Ghost Note: A Rock Star Romance

by Vicki James

  “Why would you want me to be that person?”

  “Because then you’d be free.” He tilted his head to one side. “Free to make your own choices, no matter what anyone else thinks, or who you piss off in the end by being who you need to be.”

  “Quite the psychologist over there in your plaid shirt and with your slicked-back hair, huh?”

  “Just… being me, Daisy.” He shrugged, like nothing I said or did would ever bother him.

  “Damn you, Ben Atwood.” I sighed, pushing up to lean over the table again, my eyes cast down into my untouched food. I stayed there for a moment, looking at that pasta like it held the answers to questions I hadn’t even asked myself yet.

  “You worried he’s going to come back for the funeral?” Ben asked, and when I looked up, he was taking a sip of his wine again, eyeing me over the rim of the glass.

  I shook my head. “He won’t come back.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because Danny Silver is a coward who caused too much wreckage around here, and he’s not man enough to come back and handle what we’d all have to say about his actions… or lack thereof.”

  “But, what would you say to him… if you could?” he asked, lowering his glass.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Come on. We’ve all fantasised about putting an ex in their place before. Pretend he’s here, Daisy. Pretend my eyes are his. Look into them, and tell me what you’d say—”

  “I’d tell him, thank you,” I said in a rush, cutting him off. “Thank you for showing me who he really was and for walking away.”

  “I’m not sure thanking him for hurting you is the right way to go.”

  “Why not? He did me a favour. At least now I can find someone to love who will be real with me, and Danny was never real. I was in love with a guy who didn’t even know himself. How can you love a man like that? You’re only loving a ghost—someone who doesn’t exist. So, yeah. I’d say Thank you for leaving. Thank you for breaking my heart. Thank you for not letting me live a lie. And… and then I’d kick his famous arse all the way out of Hope Cove and tell him to never come back.”

  Ben studied me, seeking out the lie, before he huffed out a laugh, shook his head, and reached over to scoop up some of my pasta with his fork. “I’ve got to say, I love your fire. There’s nothing quite like heartbreak to turn peaceful girls into the kind of women who will start a riot to show the world they’re okay again.”

  “Ben?”

  “Yeah?” His eyes shot up to mine.

  “Shut your garlic-mouth up.”

  Three

  The funeral was small, but so was our local church the service was held in. It sat on the hilltop, surrounded by greenery and shrubs, with the most gorgeous sea view that turned the church into a beacon of faith the village could look up to.

  Gina and I were in the back pews—our heads bowed as we listened to the vicar give his speech on Florence Silver’s long and peaceful life. She’d been married for forty-eight years when her husband Albie had died a few years ago.

  “Since then,” the vicar said, speaking to the congregation, “Florence went about her days peacefully, volunteering here at the church, amongst other things. She founded a book club where she and her friends would meet every Friday evening to discuss their latest romance read.”

  I looked up in time to see the vicar smile as if a memory of her had just hit him.

  “Florence was vigorous in her quest to defend romantic literature, and I would often find her at the back of this very church, arguing respectfully with men who used to mock her taste in books. A few of them are here today, I’m sure.”

  A low rumble of sad laughs and agreement washed over the pews, and I imagined Florence Silver, with her petite little body, perfectly combed grey hair, and raised chin taking on the men twice her size with her colossal attitude. She may have been small in body, but Flo was the definition of mighty, and when she pulled you into her arms, she somehow had the ability to make you feel protected. As though nobody could hurt you while she was in control.

  “I, myself, had many a debate with her about books. She used to sit for hours and hours, talking about her favourite authors and how fascinated she was that words on a page could make her heart beat faster. How sentences weaved together could make her feel like she was falling in love for the very first time all over again. How black ink on white paper could be the very thing to give her hope—hope that romance and true, genuine love exists for everyone out there, the way it did for her and Albie. It made her remember the moments she shared with her husband when they were younger, especially since he was no longer with us.”

  The vicar dipped his head, taking a moment to collect himself before he looked up again, pushing his chest out and raising his chin.

  “I’ll admit, I used to be the biggest critic of romance novels, but thanks to Florence, I am now educated. I understand how she saw peace in dreaming. I think it’s beautiful how she lost her troubles to fantasy for a short period of time, easing the ache of her real world while she drowned in that of the fictional. And, above all else… I admire her strength. I admire the way she was able to look at love like every time was the very first time, in spite of her heart having been broken. Florence; I hope now you’ve returned to a new reality with Albie. One filled with everything you ever read about, and so much more than we mere mortals could ever imagine being possible.”

  Tears filled my eyes, and goosebumps rippled my skin as everyone stood to sing their final hymn for this formidable lady.

  I admire the way she was able to look at love like every time was the very first time, in spite of her heart having been broken.

  I glanced down at my black dress, bringing my bare arms in front of me to clasp my hands together. A tear fell, landing on the toe of my black shoe, and I mourned for a woman who had always been nothing but nice to her grandson’s girlfriend, treating me like family from the very first day.

  When the service was over, Gina and I stayed where we were, letting the rest of the mourners leave before us. I offered them smiles filled with sympathy and gentle nods in greeting as they glanced my way. I wondered if some of them were surprised to see me there. After all, the whole village knew how Danny had left me. Did they think I was only there in case he showed?

  “That was beautiful,” Gina said quietly, pulling me away from my own thoughts before they derailed completely. “Everyone’s gone now. Think we should follow?”

  I looked around and offered her a nod. We were the only two in there, the rest having gone outside to where Florence was about to be lowered into the ground.

  “He hasn’t come,” I found myself saying, unsure which emotion was more dominant. The relief I felt at not having to see him again, or the sadness I felt for Florence that her own grandson hadn’t shown up.

  “Did you think he would?”

  “No. But I hoped, for her sake, he might.”

  “Not yours?”

  “I never want to see him again in my life.”

  With a huff of exhaustion, I pushed to my feet and turned to walk out of our row of pews. The taste of that lie lingered in my throat as much as Sandros’ garlic pizza bread, but I carried on regardless, making my way outside.

  The sun shone brightly—too bright for a funeral. Days like these were supposed to be carried out under grey skies and heavy clouds, not thirty-degree heat with the birds singing their happy songs. Or maybe I’d gotten everything wrong about these things.

  I glanced around the cemetery, looking at every tree and all the hiding spots to see if Danny would be there, trying to keep himself concealed.

  But… nothing.

  The ache in my chest pinched, and I cursed under my breath at him for having let Florence down.

  Once the whole thing was over, Gina turned to point to the other end of the cemetery, where Ben stood with a weak smile on his face. He offered me a feeble wave, and Jackson, who was standing next to him, did the same.

  “I se
e he kept my brother alive,” Gina sighed. “What a guy.”

  “If you like him so much, go and get him.”

  “Ben?” I could hear her confusion—practically picture the frown she was aiming my way. “A little part of you is sick. You know that, right? Daisy, the man is obsessed with you. So much so, he’s waiting at the end of a funeral service to make sure you’re all right.”

  I took a moment to study Ben, seeing him talking to Jackson with ease. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his black trousers now, and he wore a white shirt that was opened at the collar. He’d dressed respectfully, even though he’d not been a part of the day officially.

  “I want to want him, G,” I said, almost absently.

  I did.

  I saw what Ben was capable of offering, and I knew that a life with him would be filled with laughter… but a fixed-up heart doesn’t always work the way it once did. Now, I had to let that beat-up thing guide me without applying too much force to it. I had to trust it, even if it did stutter and get confused along the way.

  Gina dropped a hand to my shoulder. “You can’t force yourself to feel something you don’t feel.”

  “If I could, he’d be perfect.”

  “You could start by opening yourself up.”

  “How?”

  “By allowing yourself to be a little more vulnerable. Right now, you’re wound up tightly because you don’t want to get hurt again. You can’t live so cautiously. It’s not the way life works.”

  She took off, making her way over to Ben and Jackson.

  “Thanks for the pep talk,” I muttered to myself, wishing she could have provided me with the answers I needed.

  It took me a minute before I followed her, traipsing over well-manicured, pure green grass on heels until I was standing in front of Ben. He brushed my hair over my shoulder and brought his knuckles up over my cheeks. I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment before I looked up into amber eyes filled with warmth again.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure?”

  My answer was a small nod before I entwined our fingers together and rose on my toes to press my lips to his.

  The public display of affection surprised him. I felt it in the way he froze for just a fraction of a second before he curled his arm around my waist and pulled me against him with a soft moan.

  “Get a room,” Jackson grumbled, and despite the fact that we’d just buried a woman I admired and respected, I smiled against Ben’s lips.

  I smiled because I realised it was time to figure out how to live again, and living, it turned out, started with a nice kiss from a good man at a funeral.

  Or so I thought.

  “This isn’t what Florence would have wanted.” Gina glanced around the wake, taking in the other mourners’ sad eyes, and the way they looked down into their half-empty glasses as though pouring a tribute drink down their necks was causing them physical pain.

  “No,” I said quietly. “It’s too…”

  “Drab,” Gina finished, turning back to me and tilting her head to one side. “Shall we head home after we finish these.” She lifted her glass of beer in the air, and I offered her a careful nod.

  Ben’s attention was currently being stolen by Mr Freeman—owner of the local garage—as they went over the rising costs of fuel and how it was affecting tourism in our small coastal village. According to Mr Freeman, when people can get a flight to Spain for less than it costs for them to drive to Devon, our future as a hotspot for tourists looked bleak.

  What was this? A funeral or something?

  “Where’s Jackson?” I asked Gina.

  She turned to look out through the windows of the pub, taking in the ocean and the small beach across the way. “I let him stay out there. The kid’s seen too many events like this.”

  “You’re doing good with him, G.”

  “So you keep telling me.” A small smirk played on her lips when she looked back at me. “Again, and again, and again, and—”

  “Okay, okay, I get it.” I laughed, shaking my head. “It’s only because I care.”

  “You think I don’t know that—”

  Gina was cut off by the door to the pub opening with an almighty bang, causing everyone in the small function room to turn in its direction, only to see Jackson running through, out of breath. His eyes were wild as he came to a stop, panting as he sought out his sister.

  She was by his side in a second like a natural-born mother, one hand on the shoulder of his ratty old band T-shirt, while the other came up to the back of his dark, messy hair.

  “Jax, what’s wrong?”

  “Sis, shit!”

  “Jackson!” she scolded, casting everyone a quick glance of apology when the room filled with quiet gasps of disapproval. Gina guided her not-so-little brother back to the pub’s door, turning him away from the crowds. “What has got into you?” Her voice was lower. “This is a funeral. Show some respect.”

  Jackson pressed a hand to his chest, as though he just couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, before he offered her an apology.

  An apology!

  Jax never apologised for anything—his teenage pride usually wouldn’t allow it.

  “Gina,” he gasped. His cheeks were rosy red. “Sorry, all right—I really am—but you’re never gonna believe who I’ve just seen.”

  “I don’t care if it’s the bloody Pope, Jackson Jones, you do not behave that way in front of half of our—”

  “Danny Silver!” he shouted to cut her off. “He’s here. He’s back!”

  That chill up my spine spread out into icicles on my skin, my lips parting, and my mind going lightheaded at the mere mention of his name. Gina froze too, staring at her brother like he’d grown two heads as he went on and on saying Danny was back in Hope Cove, and how he couldn’t believe one of his biggest idols was around, and, and, and…

  “Shit,” I whispered, loud enough for Gina to turn to me with wide eyes.

  She didn’t chastise. She simply stared right at me, thinking the same thing I was thinking…

  What the hell was he doing back in the one place he swore he’d never return to? And where the hell had he been during the funeral?

  Four

  Jackson couldn’t believe his luck.

  Even though he’d known Danny before he left, thanks to their parents being close friends, Jackson saw Danny as someone different now. A hero who’d fled this place and made something of himself. He wasn’t just Danny Silver, the older boy he’d known when young and growing up. He was Danny of Front Row Frogs, holding a superhero status Jackson couldn’t stop chasing for himself.

  After a minute of me staring blankly at the floor, trying to process my emotions, a hand landed on my arm, pulling me out of my reverie.

  “What’s going on?” Ben asked.

  I glanced between him and my best friend, my heart beating fast and no words forming in my mouth. I heard Gina telling Ben what Jackson had shared—their voices somewhat muffled as white noise rang in my ears.

  “Leave it with me,” Ben finally said, his voice firm with a small growl forming in the back of his throat. He’d managed to take two steps forward when I reached out and grabbed him with all the power I had. My nails bit into his skin, and Ben scowled and winced when he turned to face me, the confusion there when our eyes met.

  “Don’t!” It was one word, but I was sure it was the strongest I’d ever spoken.

  “Daisy, he can’t be here,” Gina said quietly.

  “It’s his grandmother’s funeral,” I reminded her.

  She looked at me, confused, but said nothing.

  I swallowed all the hate I had for Danny Silver, and I raised my chin, letting go of Ben. “Jackson?”

  “Yeah, Aunt Dais?”

  “Where is he?”

  “Danny? Erm, he’s down on the beach. Just… sitting there looking out at the water. He’s got a big bottle of something hanging from his hand, and a fancy blac
k car waiting for him at the top of the walkway, but that’s about it.”

  After years of being a million miles away, Danny was beyond that door in front of me, and it would only take thirty seconds to reach him once I’d stepped out into the sweet ocean air.

  But I couldn’t see him. I wouldn’t even allow myself to visualise what he was doing, so instead, I rested a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Leave him alone, okay? He’ll probably get back in that fancy car in half an hour and go back to his dream life, away from us. I know you’re starstruck, and I know you want to run to him and talk about music and all the things you love, but this isn’t the right time. Today isn’t the day to talk to him…”

  “Daisy, what are you doing?” Gina whispered.

  My eyes shot to hers. “We don’t get to exile him from this, G.”

  “He’s not welcome around here.”

  “Today, he is.” I let go of Jackson and took a step back. My chest was so tight, and my voice didn’t sound like my own. The memories of my romantic youth were pressing against my adult willpower, trying to seep through the weak cracks to remind me of what had once been.

  I had to force them down because I wasn’t that girl anymore, and Danny wasn’t that guy.

  “Today, Hope Cove is his home again. It’s what Florence would have wanted.”

  “What about what you want?”

  “Since when has that ever mattered to him?”

  Without waiting for her answer, I turned and walked away, listening to the sounds of Ben, Gina, and Jackson muttering things as I went. I got the gist. Jackson was pissed. Gina was pissed. Ben was pissed.

  Me? I was scared, and nothing made me run quite like fear did.

  Once I made it to the back door of the pub that led out into an open beer garden, I pushed through and stepped out into the bright, dazzling sunlight. My dress suddenly felt too tight, and I couldn’t catch a damn breath. Inhaling didn’t do anything for me, not even when I closed my eyes and tried to take in as much oxygen as possible. It only made me feel more claustrophobic than before… like I’d forgotten how to breathe.