by Vicki James
Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
PLAYLIST
About Vicki James
Also by Vicki James
About Victoria L. James
Ghost Note ©2020 VICKI JAMES
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except that of small quotations used in critical reviews and promotions via blogs.
Ghost Note is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products, for the most part, of the author’s imagination, except for those venues which do exist in the world. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, events or any other incident is entirely coincidental
COVER DESIGN & FORMATTING:
L.J. Stock of LJ Designs
EDITED BY:
Claire Allmendinger of BNWEditing
PROMOTIONS:
Wendy Shatwell and Claire Allmendinger
Bare Naked Words
Acknowledgments
It takes a village.
I say it every time, but it really does.
The people who continue to help me throughout every book release are the ones who I thank every single day for being in my life, so I’m going to try and keep this short and sweet.
Lou J Stock and Claire Allmendinger,
You two are the angels on my shoulder. Neither of you demand anything, yet give me everything, and your friendship means the world to me. Thank you for all you do, always.
Tash & Sam,
My Ungodly Hour writing team. Ghost Note wouldn’t be finished without you. Thank you for the friendship, the encouragement, and the laughs.
Mary Green & Sara Robertshaw,
My two beta readers who give me honest feedback and catch all my mistakes. Stella? Stella? Who the f*ck is Stella? Thanks for everything.
Sue Hollingmode,
You don’t need me to write here what you mean to me. You already know. But thank you anyway. You’re a real diamond in my life. Or should I say, a real piece of confetti? Hmm?
Wendy Shatwell, Charlie M. Matthews, Francesca Imperial, Amy Trevathan, Elle Brooks, Zoë Lowdon, Katy Watson, and all my gym girls… thanks for keeping me sane. Writing is a lonely occupation, and you girls keep me going when there’s nobody here for me to talk to. Thanks for always being there for me whenever I need you.
My Mum and Dad, as always, thank you. I love how you always believe in me.
Paige, Connor, Charlie, and Harry,
Thanks for always looking so proud of what I do instead of being embarrassed. Your encouragement keeps me going.
Carl,
Thank you for never asking me if I want a beer and just bringing it into me anyway, especially around deadline dates and release days. You’re a rock, and I love you. Even with your horrendous quarantine long hair.
To every blogger who reads, reviews, shares, comments, or likes a post about my books. Thank you. Indie authors wouldn’t last a day without you there to help us.
The J Team
My Facebook reader group.
You guys are everything. I cannot tell you how many dreary days you’ve brightened up. I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve you guys, but thanks for being there for me always.
And last but definitely not least, to you, the reader.
Cherry Beats changed my life.
Dirty Rock made me believe the dream wasn’t going to end.
I hope Ghost Note fills your hearts the same way the others did.
Words cannot express how grateful I am that you’ve chosen to read my book.
With love and gratitude,
Vic x
To every reader who took a chance on Cherry Beats, Dirty Rock, and now Ghost Note.
You’ve made my writing dreams come true.
Thank you.
Prologue
DAISY PIPER
Danny stared at me from his perched position on the bonnet of his white Volkswagen Scirocco. The car that was his pride and joy, coming second only to me.
At least that’s what he’d once said.
Now, his strong hands hung limp between parted legs, and his eyes turned sad as he waited for me to respond to the news he’d just shared.
News. That’s what he was calling it.
He hadn’t warned me that what it was, in fact, was him ending our relationship like it didn’t even matter. He hadn’t warned me that I’d kissed his lips for the very last time without knowing so, or that this news wasn’t even news at all. What it was, when you stripped away all the bullshit, was a goodbye.
I studied him, seeking out the twenty-year-old boyfriend who’d held my hand and guided me through life for the last six years. Instead, I saw a stranger.
I have to do this, Daisy. I have to follow my heart, and that heart is taking me to the music.
The music.
The goddamn music!
After years of pledging our love to one another, he was throwing me away like a chewed-up, overused toy he’d grown bored of, and I was meant to stand here and tell him that he had my blessing—that I admired him for chasing his dream without the heavy burden of me on his back.
“Is that what you want?” I eventually asked, my voice frayed at the edges.
Danny looked at me with his sea-green eyes. Eyes I’d woken up to hundreds, if not thousands of times, and eyes I would probably never wake up to again. I studied his short brown hair, and visions of all the times I’d clung to it while he’d been inside me flashed through my mind. All that sweet love we’d made. The things we’d said to each other. The memories we shared.
“Want is a weird word to use,” he answered. There was no life in his response, and it made me scowl into the car’s bright headlights. Danny was the definition of life. None of this made any sense. He sighed dramatically. “I don’t want to hurt you, Daisy…”
“But you’re going to anyway. We’ve been together since we were fourteen, Danny,” I reminded him.
“Exactly. There’s more to life than this.”
“Than us?”
“Than Devon. Hope Cove! This dull, crappy village we live in. This way of existing. This…” He raised his hands only to slap them back down on his thighs, his frustration obvious in his tired exhale as he looked around. “There’s more to life than what we know. I have to go out there and try to discover some of it.”
“Why can’t we do that together?”
“Taking you with me wouldn’t work. You like this qu
aint way of living. You like waking up to familiar things and knowing what’s going to happen in the next twenty-four hours. I want more than that, Zee. I want to live in the real world. Hope Cove isn’t it.”
I wanted to run to him—to throw my arms around his neck and kiss his lips the way I’d done so many times before. I wanted to whisper a reminder in his ear; a reminder of the promises we’d made to one another, the things we’d overcome, and all the ways we could be happy. But Danny was different now, and since joining his rotten band, just twelve months ago, I’d watched him drift further and further away from me, little by little, week by week, piece by piece.
Until we’d come to this.
Nobody wants to sound desperate, so I swallowed down my pleas and took a moment for myself.
This night was meant to be so different.
I’d chosen the perfect outfit to wear on what I thought would be another date filled with romance. One where we’d perhaps walk on the beach, barefoot. One where he’d brush his hand through my long brown hair and tell me how much he adored the way it felt between his guitar-playing fingers. One where he’d perhaps tell me how my pale blue tea dress was pretty, and he loved the way it hugged my breasts… or one where he’d finally, finally look at me like he had when we’d first started going out.
He used to tell me that I was his dream and that nobody could replace me.
I guess that hadn’t been a lie. Nobody had.
It wasn’t a person who stole my future. It was a thing. A passion. An addiction that had wormed its way into the heart and mind of the love of my life, making him blind to me and a possible future together—the very thing he once said he lived for.
I’d been replaced by a guitar, and only one of us appeared to be mourning the fact.
“Don’t do this,” he whispered roughly, drawing my eyes back up to him. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Tears formed, threatening to roll down my cheeks. “I love you, Danny.” It was a simple statement, but it was the strongest truth I had.
“I know that. I know.”
“But it’s not enough.”
“Not… not enough to stop me.”
His words winded me, making my lips part, and my breath hitch in my throat. “It’s not enough,” I repeated quietly.
“Daisy, listen, there’s more I want to say but—”
“You should go.”
“Let’s just take a minute and talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re leaving. We’re over.”
Danny’s face fell, and the words that had always come to him so easily looked to be stuck in his throat as he stared at me helplessly.
I took a step back, retreating from his handsome face. I couldn’t look at the things I loved about him for a second longer, like the way his veins in his strong forearms pulsed beneath his skin, or the muscles that tensed beneath his tight, black T-shirt. I couldn’t see his strong jaw and perfect lips for a second more. The guitar was his addiction, yes, but he had always been mine. I was a young woman desperately in love, being crushed by a man I never thought would do this to me. Danny had always been one of the good ones. A boy who’d grown up too soon because his soul had been here before, and one who was chivalrous for his young years. He was the kind of guy who kept you safe from all the bad things out there in the world.
Until he became the worst thing to exist in mine.
“Go, Danny,” I croaked. “Just fucking go.”
He rose to a stand, his face creasing in pain with every step I retreated. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t handle him looking like the wounded victim when this was what he wanted. I couldn’t take on more pain when I could barely carry my own.
“Fine,” I whispered. “If you won’t, I will.”
“Zee…”
“Don’t you dare follow me.”
Just before I turned to run away, I thought I saw him reach out an arm and open his mouth to speak but whatever he had to say never got spoken. Whatever he thought about doing never got done, and so I ran.
I ran until my breaths became too tight, my feet became too clumsy, and my knees hit the dirt. My cries of despair filled the skies like those of a wolf howling to the moon. I broke apart under the blanket of a starry night, with nobody around me to pick me up or tell me everything would be okay, no matter how much I prayed.
No gods answered my calls.
No parents came to my rescue.
No friends found me in the dirt.
No lovers scooped me up in their arms.
And that was the fateful night that the love of my life, Danny Silver, chose a future with his band over a lifetime of contentment with me...
Thanks to a stupid little thing called music.
One
Five Years Later
“There you go, Mrs Rafferty.” I handed the paper bag filled with trinkets and balls of wool to the old lady who was a regular in the shop. “Make sure you take care and stay safe. Don’t let the sunshine fool you. I heard it could get a little stormy out there later.”
“I don’t ever let those silly old weather forecasts dupe me. I’m old enough to feel the rain approaching. Trust me, we’re going to be just fine today.”
“Glad to hear it.” I smiled as she took the bag with her frail hands—the skin over her knuckles almost translucent now, showcasing her narrow bones and fragility. “If you need anything else, ring ahead and I’ll get it ready for you.”
“You’re a real sweetheart, Daisy Piper,” Mrs Rafferty said with a strained grin of her own.
It didn’t take her too long to shuffle to the door where Ben was waiting, holding it open for her until she passed through, offering him a wave of goodbye as she went.
The bell chimed when Ben closed the door and turned to me, his smirk in place.
“You’re utterly adorable,” he said smoothly before he started walking closer in that slow, confident way of his.
“I know.” I dropped my elbows to the counter and rested my chin on my fist.
Ben had short dark hair, and his skin was always tanned from working outdoors. He was a boatman with a small fleet he hired out to tourists in the spring and summer, which meant he was always down at Harbour Beach, fixing something up or painting something new. His amber eyes sparkled under the shop’s twinkling lights, and my smile grew the closer he came until he was standing in front of me.
“You’re giving me that look,” I told him. “The one that tells me you’re feeling horny.”
“Around you, Dais, I’m always horny.”
“Don’t try to make me feel special. I saw you just before. Even Mrs Rafferty was getting the eye.”
“You saw that, huh?”
“Everyone who lives in Hope Cove sees it daily, Mr Atwood.”
“Are you saying I’m a flirt, Miss Piper?”
Standing tall, I held my hands out in front of me and began to stagger them upwards. “There’s a small flirt. A medium flirt. A large flirt. And then there’s you.” My hand paused, just above my head, only for Ben to grab it and pull me forward so I was leaning over the counter.
“The only woman I’m interested in is staring right into my eyes at this very moment.” He placed a gentle kiss to my smiling lips, and I kept my eyes open, watching as he closed his. I always did this with him. His kisses were nice but losing myself in the moment wasn’t easy anymore.
“I’m working,” I reminded him coyly. With a groan, Ben pulled away, allowing me to land back on my feet and push my hair away from my face. “Maybe you should think about doing that, too.”
“It’s a quiet day.”
“Lucky for you.” I eyed him with a raised brow. “Some of us still have tourists passing through.”
Right on cue, the bell above the door rattled again, and in walked a couple of tourists, wearing their baggy shorts, sun hats, and their almost-matching vest tops.
Ben turned to them, and I saw the roll of his eyes before he let his head drop back in my
direction, and he sighed.
“Anyone would think you were purposely trying to get rid of me, Daisy.”
“I am. Get out of here.”
“See you tonight?”
“Sure.”
“Seven o’clock?”
“Absolutely. I’ll meet you at the restaurant if that’s okay. I have some paperwork to drop off at Gina’s on the way.”
“Whatever works for you.”
With a wink, Ben pushed his hands into the pockets of his pale trousers, and he left the shop that had become my life in the last few years.
‘Daisy’s Devon’ was a little boutique, barely six hundred metres back from the coastline, filled to the brim with rare finds, quirky interiors, trinkets galore, and a basement full of coloured wool… just for Mrs Rafferty. Who could deny a sweet old lady her one pleasure in life? Certainly not me.
Hope Cove relied on the warmer seasons to bring the real tourists in, and as soon as this quaint building had become available for rent, I’d snatched it up, along with my best friend. The two of us had gone into business—Gina being a silent partner who wanted nothing to do with the day to day running of the place, only a share of the profits in return for capital that helped me secure the shop. It was a win-win situation, allowing me some control over a life I’d never planned.