14. Daryl
Chapter 14
Daryl
T he fire crackled, casting a warm glow across the garage-turned-living-room. Beth sat beside me on the old leather couch, her bright eyes reflecting the dancing flames. She chattered on about some new drink she was planning for her café, her excitement contagious even to my reluctant ears.
"I just think peppermint mocha is so overdone," she said, waving her hands animatedly. "What if we did something with cinnamon and a hint of orange? Something cozy but unexpected?"
I nodded, more to keep her talking than out of genuine interest. Her voice had a way of filling the space, making it less lonely. I found myself relaxing against the worn cushions.
"Your place seems nice," she said after a while, glancing around. "Kind of like a time capsule."
"Not much has changed since my folks died," I admitted, surprising myself with how easily the words came out. "I guess I like it that way."
She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sometimes, old things have their charm."
We lapsed into silence for a moment, just listening to the fire's soft crackle. Beth's presence was soothing in a way I hadn't expected. I found myself wanting to keep the conversation going.
"You mentioned you write songs," I said, breaking the quiet.
Her eyes widened slightly, and she blushed. "Oh, that? It's just a hobby. Nothing serious."
"Still," I pressed, "it takes guts to put your thoughts into words and music. Like tonight."
She laughed softly. "Says the guy who fixes cars and keeps to himself."
I shrugged, feeling a rare smile tug at my lips. "Different kind of guts, I guess."
Beth leaned back, her shoulder brushing mine. It was a small touch but felt significant in the intimate setting. "So, why don't you celebrate Christmas?" she asked gently.
I sighed, staring into the flames. "Bad memories mostly. It’s hard to find joy in something that used to mean pain."
She nodded thoughtfully, not pushing further. Instead, she shared stories about her childhood Christmases—happy ones filled with laughter and family traditions. It painted a stark contrast to my own experiences but didn't feel like rubbing salt in old wounds.
"You know," she said after a while, her voice softening, "Christmas isn't just about what it used to be or what it's supposed to be. It can be whatever you want it to be now."
Her words lingered in the air between us, heavy with meaning yet light with hope.
For once in my life, I didn’t have an immediate comeback or deflection. Instead, I let her words sink in and looked at Beth—really looked at her—and saw more than just the cheerful facade she wore so well.
Maybe there was something worth discovering beneath all that brightness after all.
"I'm glad I met you, Daryl Walker," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm glad my car broke down and you were there."
"Oh, yeah?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I tried to keep my tone light, but the way she looked at me made it hard to be flippant.
She nodded, her eyes never leaving mine. "Yeah."
Her honesty caught me off guard. For once, I didn't have a snarky reply or a gruff retort. Instead, I found myself leaning in closer, drawn to the sincerity in her gaze.
Our lips met softly at first, almost tentatively. Her breath was warm against my skin. My hand moved to cup her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin under my calloused fingers.
The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent. She responded with equal fervor, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. They were bright and alive, filled with something that looked a lot like hope. It was a look I hadn’t seen directed at me in a long time.
She smiled softly and leaned in again, her lips finding mine with renewed passion. This time, there was no hesitation. We kissed like we were trying to make up for lost time—time spent hiding behind walls and guarded smiles.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing heavily. She rested her forehead against mine, eyes closed as if savoring the moment.
"I’m glad too," I found myself saying softly.
Beth opened her eyes and smiled again, a genuine smile that reached all the way up to her eyes. It felt like a promise of something new—something worth holding onto.
And for once, I allowed myself to believe it might be true.
She nestled against my chest, her petite frame fitting perfectly into the crook of my arm. She felt warm, almost fragile, and my arm instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer. It was a natural gesture, one I didn't have to think about.
As she settled in, her breathing evened out, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against mine. The realization hit me like a freight train—she trusted me. This bright, hopeful woman had chosen to let down her guard and lean on me.
I wasn't sure how I felt about it. A mix of emotions churned inside—fear, doubt, but also a glimmer of something I hadn't felt in a long time: hope. Could I deserve this? Could I be someone worth trusting?
I wanted to believe it. At least, I wanted to try.
Beth's breathing grew softer, more rhythmic. It wasn't long before she fell asleep against me. For the first time in what felt like forever, the loneliness that had been present in my life began to fade.
I rested my cheek against the top of her head and closed my eyes, allowing myself to savor the moment.
I should have woken her up. I should have taken her home. But the thought of doing either seemed unbearable. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel alone. The idea of her leaving, of returning to the quiet emptiness, twisted my insides.
So I didn’t move. I didn’t want to accidentally wake her. Beth's soft breathing against my chest was a lullaby I didn't know I needed. Her trust, her warmth, it all felt too precious to disrupt.
Her head rested against me, her hair tickling my chin. The fire had burned down to embers, casting a dim glow across the room. It was peaceful in a way that was almost foreign to me.
I stared at the shadows dancing on the walls, feeling an unfamiliar contentment settle over me. It was fragile, like glass—one wrong move and it would shatter.
The steady rhythm of Beth’s breathing slowed even further as she slipped into deeper sleep. It was strange, this feeling of wanting to protect her happiness.
Minutes passed, or maybe hours; I couldn’t tell. The chill of the night crept in around us. Still, I stayed perfectly still.
My eyelids grew heavy, the day’s weariness finally catching up with me. The soothing presence of Beth made it impossible to stay awake any longer. With one last look at her peaceful face, I let my eyes close.
Sleep came swiftly and without dreams.
"Well, well, well, Daryla has a girl at home," a voice drawled.
My eyes snapped open. Connor was standing in my living room, a smirk on his face. I clenched my teeth, trying to keep my anger in check.
Beth was still asleep next to me, her head resting against my chest. Judging by the darkness outside the windows, it was still early in the morning.
"What the hell, Connor?" I asked in a low voice, trying not to wake Beth.
Connor's smirk grew wider. "You fuck her yet?"
I stood up abruptly, careful not to disturb Beth. "Get out," I growled.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Easy, big guy. I was just making conversation."
"It's not funny," I said through gritted teeth. "You have no right to be here."
He shrugged. "I was just passing by and saw the light on. Figured I'd stop in and say hi."
"Well, you've said hi. Now fuck off."
He looked over at Beth, who was starting to stir. "Who's your friend?"
"None of your business," I said, moving to stand between him and the couch.
He chuckled. "You always were a possessive bastard. I can see why you like her, though. She's cute."
I felt my anger rising again. "I mean it, Connor. Get out."
“You think you’re better than us, Daryl? Too good for your own family?” Connor’s frustration boiled over. His smirk vanished, replaced by a sneer.
I clenched my fists, feeling the familiar heat rise in my chest. “That’s not it, Connor. I’m just tired of cleaning up your messes.”
“Bullshit,” he spat. “You think just because you’ve got this garage and play Mr. Mechanic, you’re some saint? You’re no different from me.”
“You really believe that?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “I was always there for you. Stopping you from fighting, bailing you out of jail.”
“And I didn’t ask for it!” Connor’s voice echoed through the small space, making Beth stir again.
“You didn’t have to ask,” I replied, keeping my voice low. “But someone had to keep you from destroying yourself. You're the one who left. In and out, whenever it was convenient for you."
His eyes flashed with anger. “Well, guess what? I can’t stay here, not after what happened.”
“You can’t change it,” I said, my tone softening just a fraction. “Might as well move on.”
He glanced over at Beth, a cynical glint in his eye. “That what you’re doing, little brother? Moving on?” He scoffed. “You know she’ll never love you, right? When she finds out who you really are...”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Someone like her doesn’t belong in our world,” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “Deep down, you know this.”
I stood there, fists clenched at my sides, every muscle taut. But I didn’t respond. The words were lodged somewhere between my heart and throat.
Connor gave me one last look before shaking his head and walking out the door.
Beth stirred again, her eyes fluttering open. "Daryl?" she murmured.
"Yeah," I said quietly, my voice hoarse from holding back so much. "I'm here."
I watched Connor leave; the door closing with a soft thud. The room seemed to exhale; the tension dissipating into the quiet. I returned to the couch, feeling Beth’s warmth even before I settled beside her. She reached for me instinctively, her fingers brushing my arm, seeking comfort.
I pulled her close, feeling her small frame relax against mine. Her head nestled against my chest, her breathing slow and steady. I tightened my grip, needing to feel her here, solid and real. Her presence was an anchor in the storm of my thoughts.
Beth fell back asleep almost instantly, her soft snores a soothing rhythm. I, however, remained wide awake. My eyes drifted to the dying embers in the fireplace, their glow casting faint shadows on the walls.
Connor’s words echoed in my mind, gnawing at me like an old wound reopening. You know she’ll never love you. It wasn’t just his usual spite talking. Deep down, I knew he was right.
Beth was everything I wasn’t—bright, open-hearted, full of life.
And me?
I was a mess of broken pieces barely held together by grease and solitude. I couldn’t imagine her wanting to stay once she saw who I really was.
I shifted slightly, careful not to wake her. My gaze remained fixed on the fireplace as memories of my brother flooded back—his laughter, his anger, his ultimate disappearance from my life.
And now Connor's reappearance only reminded me of all that loss and chaos.
Beth stirred slightly but remained asleep, unaware of the turmoil inside me. Her presence brought a strange mix of comfort and fear—comfort because she was here with me; fear because I knew it couldn’t last.
I tightened my hold on Beth one more time, wishing for just a moment that I could freeze this fragile peace forever.