4. Daryl
Chapter 4
Daryl
I ignored the guilt pooling in my stomach and focused my attention on fixing Beth's car. The shop was silent except for the occasional clank of metal and the hum of the overhead lights. I pulled the hood open and examined the engine, my fingers tracing over the parts that needed attention. The smell of oil and grease was familiar.
I reached for a wrench and began loosening a bolt that had rusted over time. My hands worked on autopilot, every movement precise and practiced. I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, smudging grease across my brow.
Beth’s car had a problem with the alternator. It wasn’t generating enough power, causing her battery to drain. I removed the old alternator, placing it on my workbench with a satisfying thud. Grabbing a new one from the shelf, I checked it for any defects before installing it.
The engine groaned as I fit the new alternator in place. Tightening bolts, adjusting belts, ensuring everything aligned just right—it kept my mind occupied. I could almost forget her bright eyes and hopeful smile when she’d handed me that basket of cookies.
Almost.
With the alternator secured, I moved on to check the battery connections. Corrosion had built up around the terminals. I scrubbed them clean with a wire brush until they gleamed like new. The tangy scent of metal filled my nose.
The engine needed fresh oil too. I drained the old, blackened fluid into a pan, watching it flow like ink. Replacing it with clean oil felt like breathing life back into something tired and worn out.
Finally, I ran diagnostics on the onboard computer, making sure there were no hidden issues lurking beneath the surface. Everything checked out fine.
I closed the hood with a solid thump, stepping back to admire my work for a moment before wiping my hands on a rag hanging from my pocket. Beth’s car was ready to go, better than ever.
I glanced at the basket of cookies sitting untouched on my workbench. For a split second, I considered taking one but shook off the thought quickly. No distractions.
Beth would be back soon to pick up her car, and I’d hand over her keys without looking too closely at her expression.
I turned away from the car, wiping my hands on a greasy rag, when the garage door creaked open. The smell of cold winter air mixed with the familiar scent of cigarettes filled the space. I pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit it, taking a long drag as I turned to see who’d come in.
My eyes narrowed when I saw him—Connor. He swaggered in like he owned the place, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a bar fight, with that perpetual scowl etched into his face and the way he carried himself like he had nothing to lose.
“Daryl,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Didn’t expect to find you buried under another heap of junk.”
I took another drag, letting the smoke curl around my face. “What do you want, Connor?”
He sauntered closer, eyes scanning the garage like it was beneath him. “Just checking up on my baby brother. Thought you might need some help since I'm back in this dead-end town.”
“Don’t need your help,” I bit out, flicking ash onto the concrete floor. “You got your own messes to deal with.”
He laughed, a harsh sound that grated on my nerves. “Still as bitter as ever, huh? Guess losing that chip off your shoulder didn’t lighten your mood.”
My grip tightened around the cigarette. “You don’t get to talk about him.”
“Why not?” He shrugged, completely unfazed by my anger. “We all lost something that day.”
I took a step closer, glaring at him. “You lost nothing. You left us to pick up the pieces while you ran off to who knows where.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking amused rather than offended. “Running off? More like finding better opportunities.”
I shook my head, disgust curling in my stomach. “You never cared about this family.”
Connor’s smirk widened. “Family? What family? It’s just you and me now.” He paused, glancing at Beth’s car behind me. “And looks like you’ve found yourself some new friends too.”
I ground my teeth together, resisting the urge to punch him square in the jaw.
He sauntered over to the corner of the garage where the Impala sat, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. I followed him, my cigarette burning down to a nub between my fingers.
"Just wanted to check up on my car, baby brother," he murmured.
"Your car?" I demanded, flicking the butt into an old coffee can. "You mean the one I've been fixing up for the last six months without your help?"
He ran a hand over the smooth hood, his eyes appraising the work I’d put in. “The one I won in a poker match,” he corrected, his tone dripping with arrogance.
The fucking nerve.
“Not bad, Daryl,” he continued, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the metal. “Almost looks like you know what you’re doing.”
I clenched my jaw, suppressing the urge to throw him out of my garage. The Impala had been a labor of love and frustration, each part replaced and tuned with painstaking care. Connor’s careless attitude grated on me like nails on a chalkboard.
“Could’ve used a little more horsepower,” he said, peering under the hood I’d left open for inspection. “But then again, you always did play it safe.”
I bristled at his comment, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Safe? I’ve been busting my ass to get this thing running while you were off God knows where.”
He straightened up, looking unfazed. “Someone’s gotta keep things interesting around here.”
I snorted. “Interesting? You mean screwing up everything you touch?”
He chuckled, shaking his head as if I was a joke he’d heard one too many times. “Relax, little brother. Just checking up on my investment.”
“This isn’t an investment,” I shot back. “It’s a car. And it deserves better than you.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed for a split second before that insufferable grin returned. “Maybe so,” he conceded, stepping away from the Impala and towards the door. “But it’s mine all the same.”
His smirk widened as he sauntered toward the office. I followed him, the tension in my shoulders building with every step. He stopped short when he spotted the basket of cookies Beth had brought.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled, picking up one of the cookies and inspecting it with exaggerated curiosity. “What do we have here? You got yourself an admirer?”
My gut twisted. The last thing I wanted was for Connor to know anything about Beth. Something about her made me feel protective, though I couldn’t explain why. She was a bright spot in a world that had been nothing but dark for so long.
Connor took a bite of the cookie, crumbs falling to the floor. It felt like a violation; him tainting something pure and kind. The anger that had simmered under my skin flared up, boiling over.
“Put it down,” I snapped, my voice colder than I intended.
He raised an eyebrow, chewing slowly. “What’s got your panties in a twist? She got a hold of your balls?”
I stepped closer, fists clenched at my sides. “Leave her out of this.”
Connor’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Who is this bitch?”
That did it. I grabbed him by the collar and shoved him toward the door, my breath coming in sharp bursts.
“Get out,” I growled through gritted teeth.
He stumbled back, surprise flickering across his face before he regained his composure. Straightening his jacket, he smirked again.
“Touchy,” he mocked. “Fine, Daryl. I’ll leave you to your little love affair.”
He swaggered outside, the cold air biting at our faces. I followed him, my fists still clenched, fury thrumming through my veins. He turned, that insufferable smirk plastered on his face.
“Good cookie, you know,” he said, his tone mocking. “I wonder if everything else about her tastes as sweet.”
Before he could finish his sentence, my fist connected with his jaw. The satisfying crack echoed in the quiet night, my knuckles throbbing from the impact. Connor stumbled back, surprise and anger flashing in his eyes.
We'd fought before—more times than I could count—but this was different. This wasn’t about us. This was about her.
Connor’s face twisted into a snarl as he regained his balance. “You bastard,” he spat, swinging a punch that landed squarely on my cheekbone. Pain exploded across my face, but I stood my ground.
“Family is blood,” he growled, rubbing his jaw where I’d hit him. “Pussy isn’t going to get between us.”
We glared at each other, chests heaving with adrenaline and anger. My cheek throbbed where he'd struck me, but the pain only fueled my rage. His words echoed in my mind, each one like a knife twisting deeper.
This wasn’t about family anymore. This was about respect—something Connor had never understood.
We stood there for a moment longer, the tension between us crackling like static in the cold air. Neither of us moved, each waiting for the other to back down first.
I wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
Connor scoffed, a sneer pulling at his lips. "It ain't even worth my time," he muttered before turning away, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
I watched him go, a mix of relief and regret twisting in my gut. Part of me wished he'd stay away for good. The other part felt guilty; it was just the two of us now. Family, whether I liked it or not.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and rubbed my sore knuckles. The cold night air bit into my skin as I turned back towards the garage.
Closing the door to the office, I leaned against it for a moment, letting the silence wash over me. The anger slowly ebbed away, replaced by a gnawing sense of emptiness. Connor always had that effect—leaving chaos in his wake and taking a piece of me with him.
My eyes fell on the basket of cookies still sitting on the workbench. A few crumbs lay scattered where Connor had taken his bite. I brushed them off, trying to erase any trace of him from this small kindness Beth had offered.
I moved to the corner where the Impala stood, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Running a hand over its hood, I felt the smooth surface beneath my fingertips. This car was more than just metal and machinery; it was a project that had kept me grounded when everything else seemed to fall apart.
Beth’s face flashed in my mind—her bright eyes and hopeful smile as she handed me that basket. She didn’t deserve to be dragged into my mess with Connor. She deserved better.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I grabbed a wrench and started tinkering with the engine, losing myself in the familiar rhythm of fixing something broken. Each turn of the wrench felt like reclaiming a bit of control in an otherwise chaotic world.
The garage grew quieter as the night wore on, but I kept working, letting the mechanical tasks soothe my frayed nerves. By the time I finally put down my tools and wiped my hands on a rag, exhaustion had settled deep in my bones.
I glanced once more at Beth’s car. I'd have to have her pick it up, which meant I’d have to face her again.
I moved back to the office, each step feeling heavier than the last. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting a harsh glow on the small space.
I picked up the basket, feeling its weight in my hands. The cookies looked so innocent, each one a small piece of her warmth and generosity. I could almost see her standing there, smile bright and eyes full of hope. But I couldn’t let her kindness linger here, not after Connor had laid his hands on it.
With a sigh, I walked over to the trash can and dumped the cookies in. Each one hit the bottom with a soft thud, like pieces of a broken promise. The sight of them there, surrounded by greasy rags and old coffee cups, felt like a punch to the gut. It was as if I was discarding more than just cookies—I was pushing away any chance of something good in my life.
Leaning against the desk, I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to shake off the guilt that clung to me. The scent of cookies still lingered in the air, mixing with the smell of oil and metal.
I couldn't let Beth get too close. Not with Connor lurking around, ready to ruin everything he touched. And even if he wasn't, there was no point.
The clock on the wall ticked away, each second feeling like an eternity. My mind wandered back to when I'd first moved back to this town—full of regret and burdened by loss. I’d come here hoping for some kind of peace but found myself tangled in old wounds instead.
A knock on the garage door broke through my thoughts. My heart skipped a beat as I glanced toward it, half expecting Connor to barge back in with more taunts and trouble.
But it wasn’t him.
It was Beth.