When we finally broke apart again, both breathless and flushed, I saw something new in his eyes—a vulnerability he'd never shown before.
I leaned in and kissed him gently one last time, feeling the tremor in his lips as he kissed me back just as softly.
We stood there in the snow-kissed night, tangled up in each other and whatever this moment meant for us.
"Take me home with you," I whispered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.
Daryl's eyes widened, and he shook his head slightly. "Beth, I?—"
"We don't," I stammered, feeling my cheeks burn. "I don't mean…"
I cleared my throat, trying to steady myself. "I just… I want to kiss you again. And I'm getting cold."
I tilted my head to the side, searching his eyes for any sign of what he was thinking. The snow continued to fall around us; the world muffled and quiet.
Daryl's gaze bore into mine, as if he was trying to see into my soul.
"Sorry," I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "I'm too forward. I?—"
He cut me off again and kissed me softly, his lips warm and gentle against mine. The world seemed to stop spinning for a moment as everything faded away except for the feel of his mouth on mine.
"I'll take you home," he murmured when we broke apart. "But my place isn't…"
"You've seen my car," I pointed out with a small smile. "I'm not going to judge you, Daryl. I… I just want to know you."
"But… why?" he asked, his voice low and rough. "I'm not… anything, Beth. Nothing you deserve."
"Let me figure out what I deserve, hmm?" I asked softly.
He looked like he was going to refuse but finally nodded. He picked up the old guitar case and gestured toward his truck.
We walked together through the snow-covered streets, our footsteps crunching softly in the quiet night. The cold air nipped at my skin, but I didn't mind. Daryl's presence was enough to keep me warm.
When we reached his truck, he opened the passenger door for me and helped me in before closing it gently behind me. He climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine; the heater blasting warm air as we drove through town.
The ride was silent except for the hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the truck as it navigated the snowy roads. Daryl's hand rested on the gearshift, his knuckles white with tension.
I reached over and placed my hand on top of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He glanced at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road, but I saw a flicker of something—gratitude, maybe—in his gaze.
We pulled up to a small house on the outskirts of town. It was modest but had a certain charm with its peeling paint and worn steps leading up to the front door.
"This is it," Daryl said quietly as he turned off the engine.
"It's perfect," I replied with a smile.
We got out of the truck and walked up to the house together. As we stepped inside, warmth enveloped us both—the kind that came not just from a heater but from something deeper.
Daryl set down the guitar case and turned to look at me, uncertainty written all over his face.
"I'm glad you came tonight," I said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek.
His hand covered mine as he leaned into my touch ever so slightly.
"So am I," he whispered back. "Let me just..." Daryl let his voice trail off, heading through the house to the back.
I took a step to follow him but paused when he reappeared, his arms full of wood. He moved with a quiet efficiency, placing the logs in the small fireplace and striking a match to light the kindling. Flames flickered to life, casting a warm glow around the room.
"Your house needs Christmas decorations," I pointed out, glancing around at the sparse furnishings and bare walls.
