Page 10 of Ghost Note

“I want to want him, G,” I said, almost absently.

I did.

I saw what Ben was capable of offering, and I knew that a life with him would be filled with laughter… but a fixed-up heart doesn’t always work the way it once did. Now, I had to let that beat-up thing guide me without applying too much force to it. I had to trust it, even if it did stutter and get confused along the way.

Gina dropped a hand to my shoulder. “You can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t feel.”

“If I could, he’d be perfect.”

“You could start by opening yourself up.”

“How?”

“By allowing yourself to be a little more vulnerable. Right now, you’re wound up tightly because you don’t want to get hurt again. You can’t live so cautiously. It’s not the way life works.”

She took off, making her way over to Ben and Jackson.

“Thanks for the pep talk,” I muttered to myself, wishing she could have provided me with the answers I needed.

It took me a minute before I followed her, traipsing over well-manicured, pure green grass on heels until I was standing in front of Ben. He brushed my hair over my shoulder and brought his knuckles up over my cheeks. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment before I looked up into amber eyes filled with warmth again.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Sure?”

My answer was a small nod before I entwined our fingers together and rose on my toes to press my lips to his.

The public display of affection surprised him. I felt it in the way he froze for just a fraction of a second before he curled his arm around my waist and pulled me against him with a soft moan.

“Get a room,” Jackson grumbled, and despite the fact that we’d just buried a woman I admired and respected, I smiled against Ben’s lips.

I smiled because I realised it was time to figure out how to live again, and living, it turned out, started with a nice kiss from a good man at a funeral.

* * *

Or so I thought.

“This isn’t what Florence would have wanted.” Gina glanced around the wake, taking in the other mourners’ sad eyes, and the way they looked down into their half-empty glasses as though pouring a tribute drink down their necks was causing them physical pain.

“No,” I said quietly. “It’s too…”

“Drab,” Gina finished, turning back to me and tilting her head to one side. “Shall we head home after we finish these.” She lifted her glass of beer in the air, and I offered her a careful nod.

Ben’s attention was currently being stolen by Mr Freeman—owner of the local garage—as they went over the rising costs of fuel and how it was affecting tourism in our small coastal village. According to Mr Freeman, when people can get a flight to Spain for less than it costs for them to drive to Devon, our future as a hotspot for tourists looked bleak.

What was this? A funeral or something?

“Where’s Jackson?” I asked Gina.

She turned to look out through the windows of the pub, taking in the ocean and the small beach across the way. “I let him stay out there. The kid’s seen too many events like this.”

“You’re doing good with him, G.”

“So you keep telling me.” A small smirk played on her lips when she looked back at me. “Again, and again, and again, and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s only because I care.”

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