Page 146 of Forever, Maybe
As he left, Nell sank into the chair beside the bed. Danny’s fingers twitched toward hers. She took his hand, gripping it tightly.
“I’m glad…” His voice was a rasp. “…you’re here.”
“Shush! Don’t talk.” The words rushed out, breathless, frantic. “When Holly called, I thought—I thought I’d lost you. And I wasterrified. Because I love you. Iloveyou, Danny. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Everything that’s happened, all the mistakes, all the hurt—it’s rubbish, and I wish I could undo it all, but I can’t. I don’t care anymore. I just wantyou. I know this is unfair, I know you’re in a seriously weakened state, and I’m dumping all this on you, but—would you… could we…”
Footsteps. A throat cleared.
She jolted as the nurse and consultant materialised at the bedside, their timing impeccable.
Danny’s fingers tightened around hers. He turned his head, his gaze locking onto hers.
For a moment, she saw him as he had been—young, intense, eyes full of promise, a boy with big dreams and a heart wide open.
A beat. Another.
His lips curved into a stronger, surer smile.
“Yes.”
Chapter sixty-two
Thenextday
Danny’s injuries weren’t severe enough to warrant more than an overnight stay. After the consultant checked him over, porters wheeled him to a general ward, Nell trailing behind, her steps noticeably lighter.
The relief was short-lived.
Two plain-clothed police officers—one woman, one man—arrived not long after. When Danny relayed what the hoodie-wearing arsonist had said about Conor Kelly, they exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them.
Back in the early noughties, Conor Kelly—a well-known drug dealer—had been found dead in his car. Or what little remained of him. The vehicle had been torched, the body inside reduced to little more than charred remains. It had taken time to identify him. No one had ever been convicted, but the whispers never stopped. The prevailing theory? Shane O’Malley had eliminated Conor when he tried muscling in on his territory.
The officers gave nothing away, their faces unreadable. But the man finally spoke, his tone clipped.
“We’re following a positive line of enquiry. Whoever firebombed the shop will be charged with attempted murder when we catch them.”
When, not if, Nell noted.
Danny had always been uneasy about the origins of that loan. He had repaid the money, distanced himself from his uncle, but it hadn’t been enough. The past had a way of clawing back debts.
He swallowed, voice rasping. “Liza… is she alright?”
The female officer nodded. “Aye, she’s fine. A bit bruised, but nothing serious. Gave us a statement earlier. Might well have been the real target of the attack.”
The irony. Liza hadn’t spoken to her stepfather in years, dropping all pretence of civility the moment her mother died.
Danny exhaled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Nell squeezed his hand.
The officer’s expression softened as she turned to Nell with a grin.
“Your husband’s quite the hero. Took a huge risk going back into the shop to rescue his employee. You should’ve heard her—singing his praises!”
Danny rolled his eyes, but Nell only squeezed his hand, giddy with relief. How little it took to shift everything and let go of past hurts, grudges, the weight of old wounds.
She stayed for hours afterward, fetching him cans of ice-cold 7UP, patting his back when he coughed, grounding herself in the simple joy of being here. Of having this second chance.
There was still Mikey to talk about. But not now.
As she stood to leave, his voice stopped her.
