“Welcome, Mr. Jameson.” The enthusiastic talk show host for the local Boston area pumped Trevor’s hand with a beaming smile and a perfect set of pearly white, straight teeth.

“Please call me Trevor.”

“Thank you.” The talk show host seemed prideful that a rock star like Trevor would be engaging enough to allow any sort of friendly banter backstage before the interview.

Trevor was flying solo for this interview, which was uncommon. Typically, he didn’t enjoy doing press without the rest of his guys, but they were all busy today on their day off from the show.

They had arrived in Boston overnight, and Burt had already lined up this interview at least a month ago. Trevor didn’t mind the distraction. He needed to take a breather and reassess everything. The new sound company had arrived this morning and were already hard at work helping the stage crew. He had a good feeling about this. If anything went wrong, well, they’d go with the flow. There wasn’t another option.

He was happy to be in Boston. They were in a new city, and they had a chance to have a fresh start in a new location for now. The show must go on, as the famous quote always went.

“Where do we go from here?” Trevor asked casually, making polite conversation to the gracious talk show host.

His name was Eddie Falcon. He was born and raised in Boston, or so he explained to Trevor upon introductions. He had a Bachelor's Degree in broadcasting and had started out as a reporter for a local TV station in the area.

Long story short, as Eddie had detailed, he hired an agent and bam! He found himself landing the most epically local Boston TV show that the community had seen in years. The original host had retired. In walked Eddie, seemingly perfect timing as he had described it. He entertained celebrities, hosted cooking segments and a plethora of other engagements that impressed Trevor in the way that Eddie described his work.

“Do you need anything to drink?” Eddie chimed. “We have water, soda, tap water, champagne, nuts, grapes, orange juice, regular juice, crackers, biscuits, scones,—-”

Trevor cut him off with a gesture of his hand. “I’m fine. I just mean, when is the interview supposed to start?” He didn’t need to hear about every single tasty treat they had for the talent that they hosted.

“Three minutes until go time.”

One of the cameramen approached Eddie. “We need to get everyone in position.” He wore an oversized headset and a sloppy white t-shirt. “The sponsor commercials are over in two minutes.”

Eddie turned to Trevor with a zesty smile and a raise of his eyebrows. “Well, I suppose we need to get into position then.”

He clapped his hands together with a loud smack. He adjusted the pastel pink tie and the jacket of his gray suit. His vivacious energy was infectious and rubbed off on Trevor.

“I’ll follow you.” Trevor gestured for Eddie to lead the way onto the little makeshift stage in the studio.

The Production Manager came up behind Trevor and gently placed the microphone on his black t-shirt and tucked the battery pack onto his jeans in the back. “You’re all set.”

The cameraman gave them a ten-second countdown both out loud and with his fingers. Trevor took a deep breath and adjusted himself in the seat. He was calm and charismatic on camera. This wasn’t his first press interview, and it certainly wouldn’t be his last.

Trevor shifted in his seat. It was little unnerving to be here without the rest of the band. He knew he would pull it off without a hitch, but he was used to the comfort of having his best friends at his side.

As soon as the cameras began rolling, Eddie went into full-on professional mode. He leaned over to seem more approachable and engaging with Trevor.

“Tell us, Trevor, what do you like to do for fun. The world wants to know.” Eddie cackled with amusement.

Trevor smiled and glanced up at the bright lights warming him in his seat from above. “Well, I love to work with foster kids,” he admitted. “I don’t get much spare time honestly. The tour is a whirlwind. I feel like my days are swamped with activities from the moment I get up to the moment I crash on a hotel pillow when I get home.”

“I’m sure the traveling does take its toll.”

“Of course.” Trevor rubbed his palms on his jeans and cleared his throat. “After all, I’m still only human.”

Eddie slapped the top of his thigh. “Tell that to the swooning teenage girls flocking to the front row of your concerts night after night.”

Trevor nodded and laughed. “I am truly grateful to each and every one of them.” He clamped his hands together like a gratitude prayer and stared deep into the eyes of the camera lens.

“What’s it like being a rock star?” Eddie asked.

Trevor shrugged. “To be honest, I’m just a normal guy. Just like everybody else.”

His mind drifted back to Emelia and how much fun they’d had together. He didn’t want those epic nights of laughter and excitement to ever end.

“We wish the rest of the band could be here today, but we are honored to have you.” There was a twinkle in Eddie’s eye as he spoke. It was borderline fake, but he teetered right on the cusp of genuinely, so Trevor let him slide.

Eddie was easy to talk to. The conversation flowed naturally, and there was never a lag in between. Eddie was the kind of guy who roped people into talking to him and making them feel like they were the most important person in the room. The role of talk show host was perfect for him.

They discussed everything from Trevor’s favorite foods, to any pre-show rituals. Once the allotted thirty-minute time slot had ended, Trevor couldn’t believe it was over so quickly.

“Thanks, man,” he told Eddie with a firm handshake and a pat on the back. “That was an easy interview. You made it seem like it wasn’t work.”

Eddie gave him a subtle wink and leaned in closer. “That’s my job.”

Trevor was about to take his leave when Eddie put a hand on his arm and gave him pause. “Say, I’m wondering if you could clear something up for me?”

“I can try.”

“Rumor on the street says you had a falling out with a member of your crew and that he’s threatening legal action. Is there any truth to that?”

Trevor smirked. He was surprised Eddie didn’t turn on the recorder on his cell phone just to make this official. He was surprised by the legal action comment, but as quickly as rumors spread in this business, the truth always became a twisty, broken version of itself.

“I don’t have any comment, Eddie. I know you understand.”

The older man gave a dismissive shake of his head. “Oh, I know, I know. This is totally off the record, Trevor. Totally off the record.”

“Is it?” Trevor narrowed his eyes. “Is it ever really off the record?”

He may be new to this kind of stardom, but he wasn’t stupid. Every word he or his bandmates said would be scrutinized and twisted in case it made good media or turned into viral meme material. No thanks. He wasn’t about to be the reason millions of people laughed over something he said that got twisted into what it wasn’t. It was hard enough to control what got put onto social media as it was. They’d cultivated a good reputation, and it was going to stay that way.

“What about that young man that was killed, oh ten-ish years ago or so? Is it true he was the brother of your social media manager? Any connection there?”

Trevor slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, a move he turned to in an effort to keep his emotions under control.

“Am I under investigation or something here, Eddie? What gives?”

He slapped Trevor playfully on the back. “Of course not! Just trying to clear up the rumors.”

As of this moment, Trevor hadn’t been aware of any rumors. A lump formed in his throat. Eddie had asked about Kyle Greene, about his connection to Emelia. Word was out there, circulating around. How far would people dig? And just how much would they find out?

“If it’s a rumor, Eddie, you can assume it’s false. If you’ll excuse me.”

He left, despite the host calling after him. Memories flooded his mind as he skipped out on his driver and walked down the sidewalk. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going. It didn’t matter. If he kept walking, maybe the ghosts in his head would go away.

He had done it. He’d done a terrible fucking thing. He’d tried not to, and wanted to make it right. And the result had been a completely avoidable tragedy. The memory had haunted him for so damn long. So. Damn. Long.

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed a hand over his forehead. Fuck! Emelia’s face stared back at him, her innocence seeping out of her like a glow reminding him that of all the people the truth would hurt, she’d be the one to suffer the most.

She had lost Kyle once, and telling her what really happened that night would be like losing him all over again.

And Trevor would lose her.

Hell, he would lose everything.

Whipping out his cell phone, he called Roman.

“Yeah, meet me at, ah—” he looked to see what intersection he was at. “Twenty-third and Bird St. There’s a café, Holly’s. Just you.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just get your ass here, and I’ll tell you.”

Trevor took a seat at an outside café table, his fingers wringing together with anxiety he’d never felt to this extent before. His body trembled with nervous shakes. This was it. He had held the truth inside for so damn long that he couldn’t do it anymore. Downing a beer while he waited for Roman, he found himself even tenser when his friend took a seat across from him. Worry was etched all over his face, but he sat quietly and waited, seemingly knowing that Trevor had something to say at his own pace.

“There was no deer the night Kyle Greene died. His brother didn’t swerve to miss a deer. There was no damn deer.”

Roman’s throat moved as he swallowed. “How do you know, Trev?”

“Because,” Trevor closed his eyes hard. “Because I was there.”