Page 102 of Ghost Note

Dropping back to my feet, I watched him struggling. He needed this, and so did I if I were being honest. Work would be there tomorrow. And the next day. The day after that, too. Danny wouldn’t.

I waited until he opened his eyes again, and I gave him a small nod. “Okay, I’ll take the day.”

Danny’s face lit up, and I was swept into a kiss that made me forget how to breathe. Breathing was overrated anyway, and his kiss kept me alive enough as it was.

We were caught up in the summer sun soon enough, driving along roads with the windows down and the wind in our hair. Music was pouring out from the radio, with Danny giving me an education on his favourite guitar heroes, including Dire Straits, Van Halen, Nirvana—if you can’t play that riff fromSmells Like Teen Spiritthen you shouldn’t be playing the fucking guitar, according to Danny—Led Zeppelin, Guns ‘N’ Roses, Deep Purple, Rush, and a whole load more. For the first time in so long, I was paying attention to the lyrics. Whatever pain I’d felt when listening to music before had drifted away because that music was what made Danny come to life whenever he talked about it.

How easy it is to forget old pain when wrapped up in new love.

I let him ramble on as he drove us around in a big loop just to spend time on the road with me before he parked up in a car park that I was very familiar with. Donning a black cap to hide his face as much as possible only made Danny look even hotter, especially with that stubble that had grown on his chin in the last twenty-four hours, turning him from clean-shaven to rough and edgy. He was a dangerous sinner in a storybook setting, dressed in black clothing against bright blue skies.

After retrieving a backpack from the boot of his car, he reached for my hand and started heading towards a coastal track we’d been on many times before. I knew where he was taking me now. He didn’t have to say a word.

Sunny Cove was a small but perfectly-formed secluded beach that sat, quietly unspoilt, on the Salcombe Estuary. It was a short walk along the pedestrian walkway from Mill Bay car park, and a walk I didn’t mind taking. We didn’t pass many people on the way, but the ones we did were either walking their dogs or paying attention to the camera in their hands, none of them giving Danny a second glance.

It didn’t take us long to arrive at the tiny beach, and Danny’s face brightened when he saw there was nobody there but us. We made our way over to the rocky section that curled in on the left side of the beach, only for Danny to start climbing. Just beyond a few meters of rocks was an even smaller beach tucked away in its own little cove.

I trailed behind him, careful not to slip on the rocks until I reached the edge and followed Danny when he jumped into the shallow waters, feet first, soaking his trainers through. We’d done this so many times before, and once in our tiny little section that wouldn’t fit more than a few people in it anyway, we’d slip off our shoes and just lay in the shade, watching the small waves in front of us.

Danny laid out a blanket he’d brought with him, and he pulled out a few bottles of beer, uncapping two before we settled into place with warm skin and bare feet. We didn’t even discuss where we were going to sit. Danny took his place at the back of the blanket and parted his legs, and I slipped in between them, pressing my back to his chest and letting him hold me.

The old, familiar routine felt as natural as it ever had done—if not more so now. The time apart hadn’t made either of us forget how we used to be when we were together, and it struck me how five years could seem so achingly long one moment, only to feel like you blinked and missed it all the very next. Had he really been gone so long?

Had it really been five years since we’d sat this way at one of our favourite spots?

“I’d forgotten how much I love it here,” he said, resting his chin on top of my head.

“Me, too,” I lied. I hadn’t forgotten a thing.

“Have you been since… you know…?”

“Not in five years.”

“I wish you hadn’t stopped living when I left. This was one of your favourite spots.”

“I carried on… it was just a different kind of living. I couldn’t come here without you. Too many memories.”

“Too many ghosts.” He sighed.

A speedboat flew across the water, bouncing off the waves it created and disappearing just as soon as it had arrived. No one could see us here unless they ventured over the rocks and took the same path we had, which few made the effort to do only to see a beach with a few square feet of sand. Something about the privacy and tranquillity of it made me realise I might not get this again for a long time.

“What’s it like?” I asked him quietly, staring out at the sea. “Being famous?”

“Being famous is hard. Being a musician is amazing.”

“You don’t like being a global sensation?”

“It can be nice to see my name in a well-written piece from a critic or from music enthusiasts who think I have a talent. It’s nice to know I can go anywhere and do anything as soon as I drop my name or mention the band. There are perks, sure, but there are a lot of cons, too. Nothing stays private anymore. Everything’s under the microscope. If it weren’t for Jules, it would be even worse, but she manages to keep a lot of stuff brushed under the carpet.”

“Wild parties and stuff?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “And stuff.”

“Dare I ask?”

“You can ask, but you should make sure you definitely want to know the answer.” He curled his arm around my waist with one hand while I heard and felt him take a drink of his beer with the other before he dropped it back into the sand.

“Women,” I breathed out, that twist of jealousy turning my stomach over.

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