Page 90 of Hot Girl Summer

I don’t know what to say. But just knowing that he hasn’t given up on this sends a rush of butterflies to my stomach. “Working.”

“When aren’t you working?”

He pins me with those hypnotic golden-olive spheres. My heart is racing. “Sunday.”

“Keep it free.”

“Why?”

“I want to do something we’ve never done before. I never got the chance to take you on a real date.”

“Danny, I don’t know.”

I don’t know how many more apologies I can handle before I completely surrender to you.

“Give me a chance to fix this. Please.” His hold on me is so strong and undeniable that I can’t convince myself to say no. My subconscious guides me to an earlier conversation of ours.

“Music is like an anchor. It’s a feeling, a surrender. Music has the ability to capture, bind and free you all at the same time. It’s healing.”

No matter how much I deny it, Danny is all those things to me, and I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t lead with my heart and give him a chance to redeem himself. He’s far from perfect, but so am I. What we had was real, I’m sure of it. Our journey together brought both of us growth and healing, and whether my pride allows it or not, I need him.

“Fine.”

The look on his face is victorious, and adorable, like a kid who’s won a Blue Peter badge.

“I’ll pick you up at ten. Bring your wellies.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sundayrollsaroundquickly.Butterflies, nausea, and excitement settle in my tummy while I get ready, but it’s nothing a quick meditation can’t fix. The mid-October weather is surprisingly warm, so I opt for high-waist jeans, a crop top and smart white trainers, and I carry a brand-new pair of wellington boots, because who out of the equestrian or dog-walking world owns a pair of wellies?

I watch Danny’s car pull up on the curb outside the townhouse, and I grab a light bomber jacket on my way out, then shout goodbye to Stefan and James.

“Get in loser, we’re going winkle picking,” Danny calls from the rolled down window.

I laugh, his comment instantly putting me at ease. I can’t believe he remembered my throwaway Mean Girls reference in the hospital. Then again, I bet he's been dying to say that. I slide into the passenger seat and throw my jacket into the backseat next to a couple of souvenir shop bucket and spade sets.

“You weren’t kidding, were you?”

“Nope. The tide is on its way in, but we should be good for an hour or so.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re parked up in his driveway. Armed with our buckets, we walk through the house to the beach, taking Penny with us. Danny weaves his way over an abundance of seaweed, rock pools and stones to a large cluster of rocks.

I fall into step with him, while Penny laps up the glorious ocean. The underside of a rock houses an abundance of periwinkles, Danny shows me what to do, and we pick them off one by one, putting them in the buckets, making sure to leave plenty behind for reproduction.

“You know, this feels completely backwards,” I say.

“What does?” Danny asks.

I follow him against the rocks, always one step behind, making patterns with our footprints in the sand. “I mean, after everything that’s happened.”

He turns to face me, eyebrows raised.

“Don’t you think I owe you at least one date?”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“No, you’re right. But you deserve better than the way I treated you.”

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