Daryl's Angel (10th Anniversary Edition)

Chapter 20: No Place for a Pacifist

It's another beautiful morning on the farm. Lori and Carl feed the chickens. Glenn hands out fresh-picked peaches and jerky for breakfast and, with us both showered up and clean, I walk Daryl to his tent. He doesn't really need the help, but he doesn't complain when I stay close to him. When we reach the tent, I notice that mine is right next to it, and my heart lifts.

"My tent..." I start.

"Figured you'd need it," he says.

We duck inside his tent and he settles onto his cot, exhaling. I unzip the windows and let the air in because it's already too hot inside the tent otherwise. I'm wearing a tank top and jeans and still feel too warm. I'm built for the cold, not this.

Daryl seems relaxed in the balmy Georgian weather, although he has left his shirt open, allowing me a view of his chest. He's got a bit of hair between his pecs and his stomach is flat, but not chiselled. I wonder what he'd feel like if I ran my hands down his sides and squeezed him a little. I bet he feels wonderful.

"Got something on my face?" he asks, eyebrow lifting.

I flush, turning away. "No. Nothing. You're fine." I hear him chuckle a bit. I look over at him again, then around the tent. "I...guess I can leave you to it? Unless you want the company."

"I wouldn't mind," he says. He shakes one hand over at where we can see my tent through the window. "Left my old cot in there. You could drag it over."

"Good idea!"

Thankfully, the cot is light, so my heavy-lifting problem isn't an issue. I settle it in Daryl's tent and lay down, closing my eyes as I take a long, cleansing breath. Once in a while, I glance over at Daryl. He's playing with one of his arrows and he keeps poking holes in the screen with it.

"You'll let the bugs in," I tease.

"Few bugs never killed anyone," he retorts.

"Tell that to ebola, malaria—"

"Don't be a smartass."

I grin at him and he smirks a bit before throwing a pillow at me. I throw it right back. He huffs out another laugh and I can't help but join him. Someone clears their throat and we both look up as Andrea peeks her head inside.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," she says. She holds up a book, glancing down at the cover before handing it to Daryl. "It's not that great, but..."

"What, no pictures?" Daryl asks, flipping the book open and giving her another look.

"I'm so sorry. I feel like shit," Andrea admits, shaking her head.

"Yeah, you and me both."

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but if there's anything I can do..."

"You were trying to protect the group. We're good," he says. He glances past her at me. "Besides, Hope's got me." Andrea smiles a bit and glances between the two of us before she heads back out. He calls to her once more. "Hey. Shoot me again, and you'd best pray I'm dead."

She smiles and walks off. Daryl adjusts his pillow beneath him, glancing at the book again, and I sit up.

"Want me to read to you again?" I ask.

"If you want," he says. He reaches over, passing the book off, and adds, "We didn't finish that other one, 'bout the hunting dogs and Billy."

"I left my backpack in the bedroom. We can always read more later."

"Fine." He sighs, shutting his eyes again. "I was liking that one."

"Me too," I say, flipping open the book. The Case of the Missing Man, the title says. I'll give anything a try once. "Alright, chapter one..."