A Broken World

Fifty-Two

Daryl

The slam of the door echoed through the common room, and Daryl flinched, the sound cutting through him like a blade. He stayed where he was, leaning against the cold metal of the stairs, staring at the spot she’d just stood. Her words rang in his ears, soft and broken, cutting deeper than any wound he’d ever taken in this godforsaken world.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like you needed to do something you didn’t want to do.”

She thought he didn’t want her. That he regretted last night. The idea was so far from the truth it almost knocked the breath out of him. But what the hell was he supposed to say? Words had never been his strong suit. Hell, he’d spent most of his life avoiding them altogether.

Now, though, he wished he could just say something. Anything.

He rubbed a hand over his face, frustration clawing at his chest. The truth was, he’d woken up before her this morning and panicked. Seeing her there, tangled up in him, looking so peaceful—it scared the hell out of him.

What if he messed it all up again?

Years ago, he’d walked away, convincing himself it was better for both of them. He didn’t deserve her, not with the kind of life he’d led, the kind of man he was. He’d been sure she’d be better off without him, and maybe she had been. But now? Now, after everything they’d survived, he wasn’t so sure.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the railing.

He didn’t have the luxury of thinking like that anymore. Not in this world. Every second counted, and he’d already wasted too many of them.

She was out there alone, probably thinking he didn’t care, that he didn’t feel the same way she did. And it wasn’t true. God, it wasn’t true. He cared so much it scared him, made him feel raw and exposed in a way he wasn’t used to.

But she didn’t know that.

And if he didn’t get his ass in gear, she never would.

His boots thudded against the concrete as he headed for the door, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her when he found her, wasn’t even sure if he could find the right words to explain everything. But he couldn’t let her sit out there, thinking she was alone in this.

The cool air hit his face as he stepped outside, scanning the area. It didn’t take long to spot her. She was huddled against the side of the building, her knees drawn to her chest, her head tilted back against the wall.

His chest tightened at the sight of her.

She looked so small, so fragile in that moment, and it killed him to know he was the reason for it.

He hesitated, his boots rooted to the ground. Every instinct told him to go to her, to fix this, but there was still that small voice in the back of his head whispering that he’d just make it worse.

But then she let out a soft, shaky sob, and all his doubts vanished.

“Sunshine…”

His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to make her look up. Her red-rimmed eyes locked on his, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

“I…” He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “I ain’t good with words, okay? Never have been.”

She stayed silent, her gaze never leaving his face.

“I left this mornin’ ‘cause I…I didn’t know what the hell to do,” he admitted, his voice gruff. “Ain’t ‘cause I didn’t want this. Ain’t ‘cause I didn’t want you.”