Page 65 of Ghost Note

The glass of wine was placed in front of me, and Danny peeked over my shoulder to take a look, bringing a cloud of aftershave with him that made my nipples turn hard beneath the thin material of my top, and goosebumps rise on my skin with nowhere to hide them.

He laughed. “You were always so bad at Jenga.”

“Hey!”

“I’m not even sorry. You sucked at it.”

“That’s because it’s a stupid game.”

“Nah, you were just always so unsure about the shit you removed. You’ve got to have a steady hand, even when you’re not sure if the thing you’re taking out is going to make everything fall down or not. It’s all about your confidence.”

“And you had plenty of that for the both of us.”

We went about our business for another five minutes, with me looking through the pictures while Danny focused on the letters. I caught sight of him scowling to himself on occasion before he’d bring the wine to his lips, take a good few mouthfuls, and then fold the letter up and pick a different one to read.

“You were so loved, you know,” I found myself saying without thought.

He turned to look at me but didn’t say a word, and the realisation of what I’d said made my cheeks heat. I picked up another picture and held it in front of me. This time in the photo Danny was on Florence’s sofa, while I sat in his lap with his arms around my waist. It looked like we were doing nothing more than watching television together, but something about this picture made my stomach twist up. I missed that closeness with him, and the thought that it could take years, if not decades, to find and nurture that intimacy with someone else made me ache.

“You were so loved, and you still left. I don’t think I’ll ever understand that.”

“Daisy, all the love in the world from everyone else couldn’t help me to love myself. That wasn’t going to happen until I went out there and did what I was the most afraid to do,” he said, and I looked up at him. “It’s easy to live a quiet life and get caught up in the way wethinkthings are meant to go—too easy—and I know you don’t get it, but I was sick of always feeling so safe. There’s no adrenaline in safety. I wanted the scary stuff. I wanted to do things that would make my heart feel like it was about to fucking fly out of my chest with nerves.”

I thought about telling him how he’d done that for me every time we’d been together, but I was tired of sounding pathetic, so instead, I simply offered a nod, dropped the picture back down onto the counter, and I picked up my wine.

“What are you going to do with all these?” I asked.

“She wanted me to keep them, so I’ll keep them.”

“In storage or something?”

Danny softly shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “I think I’ll take this box with me wherever I go.”

Twenty-Two

Hours passed by too easily, and what was meant to be sixty minutes or so of my time soon turned into me sitting by the gas fire of Florence’s living room with my legs crossed on her faux sheep-skin rug while the moon came out, permitting the sun to sleep. A third bottle of wine was sitting on the floor between Danny and me. The right side of his face and jaw was lit up with an orange glow, contrasting against his tanned skin and dark clothing.

We’d gone through the rest of the kitchen, deciding what could stay and what should be packed up and given to charity. We’d been through the bathrooms, bedrooms, and the study, too.

“I’ll tackle the double garage on my own,” Danny said as we talked about the things we’d found. “Grandad had a load of shit I don’t think even Gran would have looked through. I’ll just box it up this week, and then that’ll be that.”

“Whatever you think is best.” I took a drink of my wine, unsure how many glasses I’d had now. The awkwardness had turned to softness as the alcohol took control. “Can I ask you a question that’s been bugging me since our conversation on the rooftop this morning?”

“Sure.”

“If you’re so quick to want to sell this place, what do you plan to do with your parents’ house—the house you grew up in?”

The muscles in his jaw twitched before he scratched an eyebrow awkwardly and looked down into his lap. “I… uh… I haven’t planned to do anything with it yet. I haven’t even been back there since… you know…”

My brows rose. “In five years?” I whispered.

He looked up slowly. “I’m not ready.”

The sadness in his eyes killed me, and I tilted my head to the side, copying his grief-filled expression. “What happened to you not wanting to let nice places go to waste? That’s a beautiful home, Danny. It deserves to be looked after.”

“By who? I can give someone else the gift of Gran’s home, sure, but I can’t give up the house I grew up in. The one I slept in. The one where Mum and Dad used to call me down for breakfast, watch me do my homework, yell at me for spending too many hours on the Xbox, and all that shit that seemed so unimportant and irritating at the time—the shit I’d give anything to relive. There are too many memories. I can’t even go back inside without thinking of…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m ready to face a lot of things, Zee, but that’s not one of them.”

I held my hand out for him to take, and he reached over, squeezing my fingers in his palm and holding my gaze. “Danny…” I sighed softly.

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