20. Daryl
Chapter 20
Daryl
I got back inside my house and slid down to the floor, my back pressed against the cold door. What the hell was I thinking? Pushing her away like that.
Her smile lingered in my mind, bright and warm, but my words had been colder than December snow. I didn't deserve someone like Beth. She was sunshine, and I was nothing but a storm cloud.
The sound of her singing echoed in my ears, a soft melody that had wrapped around my heart before I even realized it.
“Fuck you do that for?” I muttered to myself, voice barely above a whisper.
I ruined it because something that good couldn’t last. At least not for someone like me. Happiness wasn’t in the cards for me; I’d learned that lesson a long time ago.
But damn if I didn’t feel the weight of it now—guilt gnawing at me, wrapping itself around my chest like a vice.
The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I'd lost something precious before even having it. Was this what heartbreak felt like? If so, it sucked.
I’d never known love, not really. But whatever I felt for Beth? It was different. She was different. She made me want to believe in things again, things I’d long since given up on.
I rested my head against the door and closed my eyes. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe there was still a chance to make things right with her.
But for now, all I could do was sit there and feel the ache of what might have been if I'd let myself reach out instead of pushing her away.
And that thought alone tore me apart more than anything else ever could.
A pounding on the door jolted me awake. My head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to it. I blinked, disoriented, realizing I’d fallen asleep on the floor, slumped against the door.
“Daryl! Open up!”
I groaned and pushed myself up, wincing at the stiffness in my joints. The knocking continued, relentless. I twisted the knob and opened the door, squinting against the morning light.
Ellie stood there, glaring at me with fire in her eyes. She wore some kind of flower crown—no, mistletoe crown—on her head.
“What the hell, Daryl?” she snapped, not bothering with pleasantries. “And excuse me, Lord, for saying that place, but considering Beth’s car broke down outside your place last night?—”
“She what?” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
“—and I had to drive her home and arrange a tow, all on Christmas Eve, even after she stops by your place to drop off food.” She held up a container I recognized from last night. Beth must have left it by my door.
“What’s your problem?” Ellie’s eyes bored into mine, demanding an answer.
I rubbed my temples, trying to piece together my scattered thoughts. “Where is she?”
“Well, considering it’s Christmas,” Ellie said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “she’s at home.”
I stared at her for a moment before stepping back and letting her in. She marched past me into the small living room, setting the container down on the coffee table with a loud thud.
“Daryl,” she began, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve got to stop this.”
“Stop what?” I felt defensive, cornered.
“This.” She gestured around the room as if it explained everything. “Pushing people away. Beth doesn’t deserve that.”
I swallowed hard. The ache in my chest grew heavier. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“But you did.” Her voice softened slightly. “Beth cares about you. You know that, right?”
I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.”
“So why are you being such a jerk?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. Not one that made sense, anyway.
Ellie sighed and ran a hand through her hair, disturbing the mistletoe crown. “Look,” she said more gently this time, “it’s Christmas. Maybe it’s time you let some light in before you snuff her out entirely."
Her words hung in the air like a challenge I wasn’t sure I could meet. But as I stood there, watching Ellie’s determined expression soften with empathy, something shifted inside me.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe it was time to let some light in.
But first… first I needed to make things right with Beth.
And for that… well, I'd need more than just an apology.
"I don’t know how to do this," I admitted.
How to apologize.
How to be someone who didn’t push people away.
“No one does, Daryl,” Ellie had said. “But you’ve gotta try.”
Sighing, I looked around my cluttered living room, the remnants of my solitary life scattered everywhere. It was time to make things right.
I grabbed my jacket and keys, hesitating only a moment before stepping outside into the brisk morning air.
“Her car?” I had asked Ellie.
“Considering you’ve fixed it a couple of times and it still broke down, I think that’s over with, don’t you?”
She was right.
"I told her?—"
“She’s stubborn,” Ellie muttered.
“I noticed,” I replied.
“So?” Ellie challenged me. “You gonna do something about it?”
I pressed my lips together and looked down at the keys in my hand. “You sure are bossy.”
She shrugged with a smile. “Get your head out of your ass, Daryl. I actually like you. Don't mess this up."
“Merry Christmas to you too,” I muttered as she walked away.
I headed to my garage. Ideas came to me easier here. I wasn't going to see her until I could fix it. Fix us.
Pulling out my phone, I dialed the first number on my list. The shop where Beth’s car had been towed picked up after a few rings.
“Hello, Davis Auto,” a gruff voice answered.
“Yeah, this is Daryl Walker,” I said, clearing my throat. “Beth Morrison’s car was towed there last night.”
“Ah, yes. That little hatchback,” the man replied. “We’ve got it here.”
“I need it towed to my shop today,” I said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “I know it's Christmas. I'll pay.”
The guy on the other end chuckled. “Christmas Day service? That’s gonna cost you extra.”
“I don’t care,” I replied firmly. “Just make sure it’s here.”
“All right then,” he said after a moment of silence. “We’ll get on it.”
I hung up and ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. That was step one. Now for step two.
I moved to the corner of the garage where the Impala sat. Popping the hood, I reached inside and unhooked the stereo system, careful not to damage any wires. My hands worked methodically, years of experience guiding me through the process.
When I finished, I heard the sound of a tow truck pulling up outside. Wiping my hands on a rag, I walked over to greet the driver.
“Mr. Walker?” the man called out as he stepped down from the cab.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
He nodded toward Beth’s hatchback being lowered from the tow truck. “Here you go. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” I replied, handing him a tip before he drove off.
I turned my attention to Beth’s car. It looked worse for wear, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle. Popping open her hood, I examined the stereo system. It was the only new thing in the car. Grabbing my tools, I set to work removing it, disconnecting wires and unscrewing bolts until it came free in my hands.
Stepping back, I looked at both stereos lying on my workbench. It felt like too much—a grand gesture that seemed almost ridiculous. But as I thought about Beth’s smile and her relentless kindness, something inside me softened.
She was worth it.
I installed her stereo into the Impala with careful precision. Once everything was in place and secure, I took a step back and wiped my forehead with my sleeve. The job was done.
The keys to the Impala sat on the workbench next to me. Taking a deep breath, I picked them up and headed toward the car. Sliding into the driver’s seat felt surreal; I hadn’t driven it since finishing the restoration.
Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life with a satisfying purr. As I pulled out of the garage and onto the road, I marveled at how smoothly it drove. The powerful engine responded effortlessly as I accelerated, and the steering felt precise and responsive in my hands.
For a moment, pride swelled within me. Despite everything—the walls I'd built around myself—I’d done something good today.
Beth deserved this.
I drove through town with a newfound sense of purpose, ready to make things right with her.
I drove through town with the Impala purring beneath me, a mechanical beast come to life. My grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white. Each turn brought me closer to Beth’s place, and with every passing second, my nerves twisted tighter.
When I finally pulled up in front of her house, I killed the engine and sat there, staring at her front door. My heart hammered in my chest like it was trying to escape. I could feel the weight of what I was about to do pressing down on me.
What was I even going to say? Everything sounded stupid in my head. "Hey, sorry I’ve been a jerk." No, that sounded too simple. "I’ve been an idiot." That seemed too obvious.
Why was I bothering? Maybe she’d be better off without me complicating her life.
I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. But the doubt kept creeping in.
And then I heard it—a voice cutting through my internal turmoil.
“You just going to sit out there all day?”
I looked up to see Beth standing on her porch. Her arms were crossed over her chest, blue eyes narrowed like she was ready for a fight. She wore a thick sweater and jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders, catching the light in a way that made her look almost ethereal despite the fierce expression.
My heart skipped a beat as I fumbled for the door handle and stepped out of the car. The cold air hit me like a slap to the face, but it did little to calm my nerves.
Beth stood there, waiting. I could see the hurt in her eyes masked by determination.
“Beth…” I started, but no words followed.
She raised an eyebrow, waiting for more.
I swallowed hard and tried again. “I?—”
Still nothing.
Her gaze softened just slightly as she uncrossed her arms and took a step forward. “Daryl,” she said quietly, “what are you doing here?”
Her question hung in the air between us as I struggled to find my voice. All those rehearsed lines melted away under her piercing stare.
This was harder than fixing any car.
It was harder than anything I'd ever done before.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "I got you something."
Her brow furrowed. "What?"
I gestured toward the Impala parked in front of her house. "The car."
She glanced at it, then back at me. "I don't understand."
"I… Your car is shit."
Her eyes went wide, and she stared at me in disbelief. "Did you seriously come over here to tell me that?"
"I want you to drive where… where you don't need me to fix your car up," I said, struggling with the words.
Beth looked at me like she was trying to figure out a puzzle.
"This is coming out all wrong," I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck.
"Clearly," she replied, her voice sharp.
"I'm an asshole," I admitted, my shoulders sagging.
"Agreed," she drawled.
"I just… I don't know how to… I'm sorry, okay?" The words tumbled out of me like an avalanche. "I just... I'm waiting for you to realize that there's no way in hell you'd ever want to be with some redneck twice your age who can't offer you nothing except fixing things that need fixing because you deserve someone better than me, Beth. And I'm scared that by the time you'll realize it, and you will, I'll be so fucking in love with you that I can't let you go even if I should."
Beth was silent for a long time, her expression unreadable.
The silence stretched on, and I began to feel more and more uncomfortable under her steady gaze. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for her to say something—anything.
"Say something," I finally said. "Please."
"And I'm scared you'll run away when you realize I'm already in love with you," she said, her voice trembling.
I sucked in a breath, the weight of her words crashing into me like a tidal wave. I moved toward her, every step deliberate, and then I kissed her deeply, passionately. All the walls I'd built around myself crumbled as our lips met.
"Mine," I whispered against her mouth, my voice raw with emotion. "Mine. That's all I want for Christmas."
She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "Yours," she said softly. "I'm yours."
I felt something inside me break free—a surge of relief and joy so intense it almost overwhelmed me. I kissed her again, pouring everything I couldn't say into that kiss.
For the first time in years, I felt whole.
"So," Beth said, leaning against me, her warmth seeping through my jacket. "The car?"
"Yours," I said.
Her eyes widened, and she pulled back slightly. "Wait, Daryl?—"
"It was supposed to be a project for me and my brother," I explained, the words coming out rough. "But he never bothered to show up."
"Daryl, it's too much?—"
"I moved your stereo into it," I continued, cutting her off gently. "I know it means a lot to you. But… I want you to have it. So I don't have to worry about you breaking down everywhere."
"Daryl," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she looked at me. Without another word, she kissed me again, and this time it was different. It was tender, a kiss that held promises and unspoken words. Her lips were soft against mine, moving slowly as if savoring the moment. I could taste the hint of peppermint on her breath, mingling with the warmth of her mouth.
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer until there was no space left between us. The world around us faded away, leaving just the two of us standing there in the cold morning air. Her fingers threaded through my hair, sending shivers down my spine.
This kiss wasn't about passion or desperation; it was about connection and understanding. It was about finding something in each other despite the shit life threw out. And in that moment, I knew that no matter how rough things got, we would always find our way back to each other.
When we finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath mingling with mine in the cold air.
"Best Christmas ever, Daryl Walker," she whispered. "Thank you."
I didn't have any words left, so I just held her tighter. I had no intention of ever letting her go.