Page 61 of Ghost Note

Goddammit.

“It’s not… like that…” I said, but we both heard the weakness in my broken statement. “And even if it is like that for him, it’s not for me.”

“The worrying thing is, you might actually believe that in your own head.”

“I need to do this, Gina.”

It took her a second to respond, but when she did, a long stream of air hit the receiver first. “Fine. Okay, fine. But be careful, Dais. You make a deal with a rock star, and you’re only ever going to get burned.”

“He’s not a rock star until he leaves on Sunday. While he’s home, he’s just Danny, and that’s all I’m going to see him as.”

“That version of the guy is your greatest weakness. I’d rather hewasthe rock star around you, and then maybe you’d be in with a fighting chance in all of this.”

“Trust me, Gina,” I said, my voice too small. “Everything is under control.”

* * *

An hour later, and I was pulling my bike out of the under the stairs cupboard and locking the door to my home. My eyes were dry and heavy after a night of broken sleep on the roof. When I’d looked in my bathroom mirror—the one left that I hadn’t yet smashed—I’d gasped at the dark circles under my lashes and the pale pallor of my skin. Even with a soft summer tan, I’d somehow managed to look translucent.

It’s because your heart is sick, that stupid inner voice taunted me, but I’d pushed it away and thrown on a little layer of makeup that I hoped Danny wouldn’t think was for his benefit.

It had been a while since I’d ridden over to Florence’s house like this, and memories of my youth filled me as I climbed onto the seat, tugging on the knees of my jeans to get comfortable. I glanced down at the strapless black top I had on that left my shoulders and neck bare apart from a delicate silver heart necklace, and I groaned to myself.

Not for Danny’s benefit. Yeah, right.

I arrived at Florence’s huge bungalow only a few minutes later, and when I cycled up her long driveway, nostalgia washed over me.

All the times I’d come over here while dating Danny to have dinner with his grandparents.

All the times we’d hung out in the back garden that was a place for solitude and privacy, filled with every variation of plant and every colour you could ever imagine.

The kisses. The happiness that had filled me.

God, I’d been pathetic.

So in love and naive and just… pathetic.

Those eight letters in that one word summed me up enough for it to have been a fitting middle name for me to carry around for the rest of my days.

Daisy Pathetic Piper.

A movement in the floor-to-ceiling living room window caught my eye, and I turned to see Danny standing there with a mug of something in one hand, while his other hand was tucked away in the pocket of his dark jeans, causing his Metallica T-shirt to stretch over his broad shoulders. As soon as he saw me, he smiled, bright and beaming, and all I could do was look at him and do the same.

You’re in so much trouble here, Pathetic Little Miss Daisy. Hold it together.

I had to cough my smile away and bring my long plait of hair over my bare shoulder, just for something to do that didn’t involve holding up a white flag and declaring myself no longer mad at him.

Wars shouldn’t end so easily, otherwise it diluted the purpose of the war to begin with, and I had a justified reason for feeling vengeful towards him.

Didn’t I?

Yes, I had. I really, really had.

Danny tipped his head to the side and gestured to the front door. I swung my leg off the bike and pushed it forward, propping it up against the wall before I brushed my hands over my stomach and gave myself one final inspection. White Converse. Light blue mum jeans. Black strapless top tucked into said jeans. No big deal. I didn’t look too fancy. I wasn’t… trying or anything…

The door swung open, and Danny stood there, looking brighter than I’d seen him since his return, despite his dark clothing.

“Hey,” he said, tilting his chin and leaning against the doorframe with his mug in his hand.

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