Page 34 of Ghost Note

“There’s a CD in the stereo there. It’s Dad’s, so it’ll have to be what it is, but you can try it.”

I did as he suggested, and as we hit the open country road, I turned the volume up to a song I didn’t recognise.

“Oh, shit. This is a tune.” Danny laughed, relaxing back on the headrest. He began to sing along, about how there was a will to set someone free in his heart, and all they had to be was true.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“Aztec Camera,Somewhere in My Heart.Dad loves this song. Sings it around the house all the damn time. Him and Mum go crazy for it.” Danny glanced at me. “You like it?”

“It’s catchy.”

“Yeah? You gonna dance for me?”

“I guess I’ll do whatever you ask. You won the bet, remember?”

I moved my shoulders in time with the beat, and it didn’t take me long to catch on to the lyrics of the verse. Before long, my head was swaying in time to the music, and I sang to the few words I knew, drawing Danny in.

One thing he loved about me more than my body and my heart?

My voice.

Danny said we could be an edgy, modern-day version of The Carpenters if I’d let it happen. He’d learn to play the guitar, and with my voice, we could make sweet music forever. I always laughed and shrugged him off, too embarrassed to perform for anyone who wasn’t him.

There, however, on that open road, I lifted my arms in the air and lost myself to that song. I let the wind push back my hair, push back my arms, and push back my worries.

“Fuck, Daisy. You lookhot!You’re gonna make me crash,” Danny joked, but I didn’t care.

My eyes were closed, and I lost myself to creating a new memory with the best guy I’d ever known.

I woke up slowly, my eyes flickering open against a wet pillowcase. I’d been crying, and now that damn song was playing on repeat in my mind after years of me pressing mute every time it dared to rear its head.

“Fuck Danny Silver,” I whispered to myself.

My morning started slow and sluggish, the memories of the night before mixing with the dream that hadn’t even been a dream, but a memory. Something very real. Something very true. The headache I had taunted me until I stepped out into the fresh air and headed for the shop. It was a Sunday, and we lived in a coastal resort. I opened because it was one of the busiest days of the week, and it was time to make some money.

The bell above the door rang out when I stepped inside, and I winced at the noise, willing the ibuprofen to kick in before I accidentally threw something in a temper again. Maybe Danny had been right, and I had gotten fiercer in his absence.

My hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and I’d foregone all makeup since I didn’t have a mirror at my vanity table to use anymore. I looked about as good as I felt.

As I stepped into the back room through the seashell curtain, my phone began to ring in my pocket. I pulled it out, seeing Gina’s name.

“Yeah?” I answered, sounding ruder than I’d planned.

“Shit, is it that bad?”

“What do you mean?” I kicked an almost empty box of padded envelopes under a shelf to try and keep it out of the way, and then I began ruffling through some stock. “Is what bad?”

“Your Danny hangover.”

My head shot up, banging straight onto the shelf above. “Mother of fuck!” I cried out as the pain tore through my skull, and I reached up to rub it, closing my eyes to try and dull the pain.

“Erm… maybe I should… go,” Gina said slowly, in a very un-Gina like manner. “We can have this conversation later.”

“Whatconversation? There’s no conversation to have.” My head throbbed, and I could already feel a small bump forming when I ran my fingers over it.

Gina paused, and it felt like she was trying to choose her words carefully.

“G?” I said, hissing as my finger caught the bump too roughly. I spun in a slow circle, looking at everything in the stock room and realising that, for the very first time, I didn’t want to be here in my little shop anymore.

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