A Broken World

Chapter 85

The first night in Alexandria should have been the easiest sleep I'd had in months. Instead, I spent most of it staring at the ceiling.

There was nothing wrong with the room Deanna had given me. That was probably part of the problem. The mattress was clean, the sheets smelled like laundry soap, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I could lie down without feeling dirt underneath me. There was a working lamp on the nightstand, curtains over the window and a door that actually locked. Outside the house, a metal wall separated us from the dead.

None of it made me feel safe yet.

Rick had insisted that we all stay together for the first few nights. Deanna had offered us two houses, but nobody had been interested in spreading out immediately. After the prison, Terminus and everything that had happened on the road, sleeping in separate houses because someone told us we were safe seemed stupid. Deanna hadn't argued when Rick told her we would decide when we were ready.

I had been lying awake for almost an hour when a floorboard creaked in the hallway. My hand immediately went beneath my pillow and wrapped around the handle of the knife I'd hidden there before going to bed.

The bedroom door opened a few inches.

"It's me," Daryl said quietly.

I released the knife and dropped my head back against the pillow. "You know knocking still exists, right?"

Daryl pushed the door open far enough to step inside. Someone had apparently convinced him to wash his face, but he was still wearing the same clothes he'd worn when we'd arrived. His crossbow wasn't with him, which surprised me until I noticed the knife attached to his belt.

"Didn't wanna wake everybody up," Daryl said as he closed the door behind him.

"So you decided sneaking into my room was better?"

"Door wasn't locked."

"That's not an invitation."

Daryl looked at me for a second before glancing toward the hallway again. He looked exhausted. I recognized it because I probably looked exactly the same.

I moved over and lifted the blanket. "Come here."

His attention returned to me. "I'm fine."

"That's not what I said."

"Ain't tired."

"You're a terrible liar."

Daryl hesitated long enough to make me roll my eyes. We'd slept beside each other on cold floors, in abandoned houses and outside with nothing but our jackets between us and the ground. The fact that he was suddenly acting unsure because there was a real bed involved would've been funny if I wasn't so tired.

"Daryl, get in the damn bed."

He gave me an annoyed look. "Bossy."

"And yet you're taking your boots off."

Daryl muttered something I didn't catch as he removed his boots and left them near the door. He climbed onto the bed beside me but stayed on top of the blanket.

I stared at him.

He noticed immediately. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You're starin'."

"Because you're lying on top of the covers like you're planning to run away."

"Ain't runnin' anywhere."

"Then get under the blanket."

Daryl looked like he wanted to argue just because I'd told him what to do, but eventually he lifted the blanket and settled beside me. I turned onto my side to face him while he stayed on his back and looked at the ceiling.