Page 17 of Ghost Note

I was hungover, I was pissed off, and I was tired.

With a twist of the key, though, the door was pushed open, and Gina was standing before me with her blue hair highlighted by the glorious sunshine. My eyes scrunched shut, but I was able to peek one open as I ruffled my own hair with one hand and waited for the abuse.

“Oh, good Satan below, this is worse than I thought,” she blew out in a breath, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide as they took me in from head to toe and back again. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?”

“Who?” I croaked.

“Danny.”

The mention of his name had me dropping my hand and staring at Gina as my breathing picked up pace. The memory of his face was imprinted on the back of my eyelids, and all night long, I’d drifted from dream to nightmare and back again, each one featuring Danny bloody Silver and that stupid, shouldn’t-be-sexy cigarette.

Gina stepped over the threshold, closed the door, and guided me into the kitchen. I was with her, but I wasn’t, moving on auto and doing what she told me to do as she made two cups of coffee and slid one onto the two-seater breakfast table by the kitchen window. A small pot of daisies sat in the centre, and I focused on them as Gina’s concerned stare burned holes into my head.

“You look like you did five years ago,” she said, and when I glanced up, she was eyeing me over the rim of her coffee cup as she took a slow, steady sip.

I curled my hand around my own mug and sat there in the chair, limp and lifeless. “I had too much wine last night.”

“You and I both know this is more than a hangover.” Lowering her cup, she held it in both hands and leaned forward. “Jackson saw you at the beach talking to Danny.”

My brows rose. If I hadn’t been awake before, I sure was now.

Gina smirked. “You think I was just going to accept that text you sent me and leave it at that? You should know me better by now.”

“What did you do?”

“I slipped Jackson a twenty to ride his bike past your place every half hour. Told him it would work on his fitness, earn him a few coins, and keep me from shouting.”

“G, seriously? That’s some kind of child abuse.”

“Please. Say that to me when I send him down the mines. Not when I ask him to do me a favour. And you people wonder why kids today are so off-the-rails. Child abuse, my arse. They’re all soft little shit bags who need to learn to put some effort into their lives.” She rolled her eyes. “And stop trying to change the subject. What the hell were you doing at the beach withhim?”

My fingers danced along my mug. “Telling him he shouldn’t have come here.”

“That’s it?”

“I may have told him to go fuck himself, too.”

Gina’s laugh caught me off guard, and when I saw her genuine amusement, a small smile played on my lips. “Damn, Daisy. Good for you.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Yeah, I’m pissed! I don’t want you within ten feet of that wannabe guitar hero, but am I mad that you told him to go fuck himself? Hell, no. I only wish I'd seen it and had my phone on record.”

“It really wasn’t that spectacular. In fact, I think he found it amusing rather than abusive.”

“The arrogant rock star has been born, then?”

My eyes widened, and my smile pressed into a thin line. “Oh, he’s the full package.”

“Stirred up some old feelings, didn’t he?” she asked softly, and for once, there was no judgement in her voice—only concern. I’d have rather she hated and scolded me than offer this. Kindness was my weakness.

Staring straight into her eyes, I winced. “Why does heartbreak have so much love attached to it still?”

“I don’t know, honey. I really don't. I’ve never had what you and Danny used to have. But you gotta concentrate on theused topart of what I just said because that love doesn’t live in Hope Cove anymore, Daisy. Those feelings that have been stirred up are for a boy who no longer exists.”

“I know.” I dropped my head and took my first sip of coffee to stall for time. All of my thoughts were jumping over themselves, battling it out as I tried to think of something to let Gina—and more importantly, myself—know that this was a temporary migraine and not a life-changing tumour I had to learn to live with. “None of it matters, anyway, G.”

“No?”

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