Page 51 of Ghost Note

“You tell me,” I fired back, even if it was quiet. “I don’t know him anymore. He’s not a part of my life. He hasn’t been for a lot of years now.”

“Do you follow his music? Or the band?” Jules asked, and I could see the inquisition in her eyes.

I shook my head. “No. When he left, I stopped listening to music.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened. “All of it?”

“Anything with words or lyrics, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because it was what took him away from me, and I was angry,” I found myself admitting to a stranger.

Her responding smile was filled with sympathy I didn’t want or need, so I pulled the basket off the counter and dropped it by my feet so I could ring up the cost of the bunny on the till.

“Sorry,” I offered, punching the numbers in. “I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, so let’s pretend that never got said. I’ll let you buy this bunny and be on your way.” I ran a hand over my forehead and blew out a breath.

“Danny’s favourite thing about you is your voice.”

My eyes snapped up to Jules, and I stared at her. “W-what?”

“His favourite thing is your voice, followed closely by the way you look when you sleep. He says he’s never seen someone so at peace with their eyes closed, and when he used to struggle to fall asleep on tour, he’d picture you in his bed, and he’d hold that image in his mind until he drifted off.”

I swallowed hard, and my heart began to pitter-patter too quickly again.

“I didn’t mean to saythat,either,” she whispered with a smile. “So, let’s pretend that never got said.” Reaching around into her back pocket, she pulled out a twenty-pound note and a card with a number scrawled on it. “I hope that’s enough for the bunny. Corey loves it already, I can tell. And there’s my number if you come across any pictures. Or if you… I don’t know… want to talk to someone about things you don’t think you can talk to anyone else about.”

“I, erm…”

“You take care, Daisy,” she said before she scooped Corey back up onto her hip, and the two of them walked out of my shop without saying another word. Corey jiggled his new bunny in my direction, and his smile lit up his gorgeous face before he disappeared down the road with his mum.

I looked down at the twenty and her card, and I dragged both of them into my hand before I slid one into the till, and the other into the pocket of my dress.

In case of emergencies. Nothing more.

Seventeen

All day, I expected to see Danny again.

I wasn’t sure why—maybe I thought he was planning on spending his remaining days convincing me that he wasn’t the arsehole I’d painted him to be—but when I made my way home from the shop that Monday afternoon, I hadn’t seen or heard from him. There hadn’t even been a whisper of his name from the locals or tourists that passed through, buying their gifts or sharing their usual gossip. His presence had caused a fuss at first, sure, but news died quickly around here with only so many of us to create the hysteria.

Hysteria was exhausting.

As was dealing with emotions left unattended for years.

By the time I made it back to my humble home and walked into the kitchen, I was antsy. The quietness and solitude around me didn’t drown out the noise in my head. I ate dinner alone at my small kitchen table. I wandered upstairs to dress into black leggings and an oversized pale pink T-shirt adorned with more adoration of Devon on the front of it, and I threw my hair up into a ponytail before I jogged back downstairs and just… looked around.

“I could watch Netflix,” I muttered to myself before chewing on my thumb in thought. “Or I could paint a wall. Reshuffle some furniture around? Maybe organise that drawer in the kitchen with all the crap stuffed into it?”

Apart from painting a wall, which I decided was a bad idea because I didn’t have that much energy, I tried each of those things. The couch was shuffled down against the long wall a little farther. I moved some of the fake plants in my living room to try and make the whole thing feel a tad more Feng Shui. None of that made me focus enough to stop asking myself never-ending questions in my mind, though. Not even Alexander Dreymon’s portrayal ofUhtred, son of Uhtredon Netflix could stop Danny from taunting me with his smirk or his voice, so I’d switchedThe Last Kingdomoff mid-battle scene and ventured into the kitchen again to open a bottle of something cold.

Alcohol wasn’t a recommended coping mechanism, but right then, it was all I had.

By the time the sun had set, it was late at night, and I had my feet tucked under my bum, with a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other.

I’d still not heard from Danny, and I couldn’t understand why that fact was bothering me.

He’d shown me everything he needed to show me—said everything he needed to say, so why did I expect him to waste more time by knocking on my door or visiting the shop?

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