Waking up, I felt a dull ache in my back. The couch wasn't exactly the most comfortable place to sleep, but the warmth radiating next to me made it worth it. Daryl and I had fallen asleep together, his arm draped over my shoulders in a rare display of affection. I kept my eyes closed, savoring the moment. His steady breathing, the faint scent of motor oil mixed with something uniquely him—it all felt so right.
I couldn't help but smile to myself. Despite his gruff exterior, there was something undeniably comforting about being close to him. The way he had reluctantly agreed to help me with my car, the soft hum of approval when he heard me singing—it all hinted at layers beneath his rough surface.
I liked him. I liked him a lot.
The realization hit me with both excitement and apprehension. Daryl Walker was a tough nut to crack, but every glimpse of his softer side made me want to know him even more. Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was just him—the way he carried himself, the hidden kindness he didn't want anyone to see.
Shifting slightly, I risked opening my eyes to look at him. His face, usually so guarded and stern, seemed peaceful in sleep. The lines around his eyes softened, and I noticed the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. It was a side of him I doubted many people got to see.
I wondered what he would say when he woke up and found us like this. Would he push me away again, put up those walls? Or had we made some kind of progress last night? Either way, I wasn't ready to move just yet.
So I closed my eyes again and leaned into him a little more, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against my side. Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad after all.
Maybe there was hope for us yet.
I wanted to surprise him and make breakfast. Slowly, I pulled away from Daryl. At first, his grip tightened, but I murmured softly to him.
"Just getting up for a bit," I whispered.
He seemed appeased and relaxed his hold on me. Slipping off the couch quietly, I tiptoed into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I frowned at the sight before me: nearly empty shelves with only a carton of milk that looked questionable at best and a lone stick of butter.
Moving to the pantry, my frown deepened. Ramen noodles and Pop-Tarts were all that greeted me. Shaking my head, I let out a sigh. No way was I going to eat Pop-Tarts for breakfast, especially not after deciding to surprise Daryl with something nice.
Determined not to let this minor setback ruin my plans, I started thinking of alternatives. Maybe I could make do with what little he had here or take a quick trip back home to grab some supplies from my own well-stocked kitchen. Either way, breakfast was happening.
For now though, I'd need a plan—one that didn't involve ramen noodles or Pop-Tarts.
I decided to head to the store. Grabbing a sticky note from the counter, I scribbled a quick message.
Gone to get supplies for breakfast. Be back soon. -Beth
I stuck it to the fridge, making sure it was impossible to miss. Pulling on my boots and jacket, I stepped out into the chilly morning air. The sun had just started to rise, casting a soft glow over the quiet town. I pulled out my phone and called Ellie.
"Hey, can you come pick me up? I'm at Daryl's," I said, trying to keep my voice low.
Ellie spit out whatever she had been drinking. "Did you?—"
"No!" I insisted. "We fell asleep talking."
"Is that what you kids are calling it these days?"
"You're literally my age," I pointed out.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. I need an address."
"I'll text it." I sent her a quick text.
"Everything okay, though?" Ellie asked, playfulness gone for the moment.
"Yeah, just need to grab some things for breakfast," I replied, glancing back at Daryl's place.
"I'll be there in ten," she said before hanging up.
True to her word, Ellie arrived in no time. She pulled up in her beat-up old car, and I hopped in, grateful for the warmth of the heater.
"Morning," she greeted me with a yawn. "What's going on?"
"Long story," I said, shaking my head. "I'll fill you in later. Let's just get to Mistletoe Mercantile."
