by Chloe Walsh
"Eight years ago," he corrected gruffly. "Not a million, and you were my best friend, Molly."
Pain ricocheted through me. "Yeah, Daryl, and you were mine."
"I'm fucking sorry, Molly!" He exhaled a pained breath. "This is killing me. Knowing that I hurt you like this?" He shook his head. "Losing you almost killed me," he admitted, voice torn.
"Yeah." I kept my back to him, staring blindly out the window into the darkness. "I'm familiar with the feeling."
Daryl
Gabe Owens had a habit of telling me and Rourke that life was a waiting game, and if we waited long enough, everything would work out the way god planned it to.
I wasn’t sure if that was bullshit or not, but I knew that I had been waiting my whole life for this exact moment.
For her to come back to me.
Barely clocking five feet tall, Molly looked frailer than I remembered when we were kids.
She hasn't grown much, I mentally acknowledged, as my gaze swept over her tiny frame. When we were young, she was petite, but now? Now, she looked downright delicate.
Dainty.
She was wearing an ankle length, white dress and scuffed Doc Martin boots. A long-sleeved purple cardigan was draped around her thin shoulders.
Jesus Christ, her clothes were horrendous.
But the girl beneath them was ethereal.
Almost angelic.
A creature that had been sent by god himself to torture me.
"It's okay, Daryl," she continued to say, keeping her back to me. "You can go on downstairs and join Rourke and the guys. Consider the air cleared between us and the chapter closed."
No, no, no, no, fuck no!
"No." I shook my head, instantly refuting her white flag. "I don’t want to clear the air." I knew coming here tonight was a gamble, and I knew that saying these words to her was even riskier, but this girl had always been like crack to me, and the prospect of having her back in my life wasn't something I was willing to give up easily, even if she appeared to want nothing to do with me. "I don’t want our chapter to close, Molly."
She released a pained sigh. "It's been years –"
"I don’t care how long it's been," I replied, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. I sure as hell wasn’t feeling steady on the inside. "I still want you in my life."
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she turned around to face me and I found myself looking into the eyes of the only person on this planet that had ever really known me.
The only person that could take me down.
All burned, and broken, and hauntingly beautiful, she stood in front of me, wrecking my thoughts and crushing every protective wall I had erected around my heart in my feeble attempt to recover from the pain of losing her.
When she left, she took a piece of me with her, and facing her after so many years apart left me completely fucking reeling.
She was fucking ethereal to me, and always had been. Even when we were little, I tailed after that girl like she hung the sun, the moon, and the stars, and I had loved her with every inch of my black heart until that night.
Until everything changed.
"I've been right here, Daryl," she urged, sounding both distressed and pissed. "For the last two years, and you haven't wanted me in your life – a very impressive life, I might add. I've been to all of your home games, by the way. You're brilliant, and I'm hella proud of you, but please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Don’t try to befriend me because you feel guilty or sorry for me." A pained, humorless laugh escaped her plump lips. "Christ, you didn’t even know who I was until today when Rourke spelled it out for you. Because he did, right?" Hurt laced her tone. "Rourke told you who I was?"
Shame filled me and I nodded slowly.
To be honest, I was surprised that I could look her in the eyes and not flinch.
A sad smile ghosted her lips. "Thought so."
Goddamn, she wore her heartache with grace.
"Look, I'm sorry," I came right out and said. "I fucked up and we both know it. And I can tell you how sorry I am a million times over, but my words won't change a damn thing. But my actions can, and I want to fix this. I want to make it up to you."
She shook her head and moved to step around me, heading for the door, no doubt. "There's really no need –"
"There absolutely is," I interjected, blocking her path and closing the space between us. Electricity jolted through me when my arm brushed against hers and I took a safe step back. "There is every need and I'm not going away until you agree."
"Agree?" Molly narrowed her eyes, instantly wary. Hell, I didn’t even blame her. I would be wary, too. "Until I agree to what?"
She was so short that I had to stoop to be eye-level with her. "Until you agree to take me back."
Her breath audibly hitched in her throat. "T-take you back?"
"Yeah." I nodded slowly, my gaze riveted to her big brown eyes. "Give me another chance, Molls." I blew out a pained breath. "Let me be your friend again."
"I'm not the same little girl you remember," she said, taking a step backwards, walls up and guarded. "I grew up, Daryl, and the version of me that I am now doesn’t exactly fit in your world."
"Yeah? Well, I grew up, too, Molly," I replied, rising to my full height of 6'4 again. "I'm not the same punk-ass kid that you remember. But I can promise that when it comes to keeping you in my life, I have no problem making room for all of your versions."
She was quiet for such a long time that I honestly didn’t think she was going to respond. But then her lips twitched and a small smile spread across her face. "Wow. Can I have fries with that cheese you just served me?"
Relief, more potent than I'd ever experienced before, filled my chest and I found myself mirroring her smile. "I meant that from the bottom of my heart."
"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Sure you did."
"So, can I take that as a yes?" I dared to ask.
"Okay…" She sounded cautious when she spoke. "I guess I can give you another shot, King Douche."
My smile morphed into a grin. "You remember that nickname?"
She smirked up at me and shrugged. "I remember everything."
Fuck, I hoped not.
"So, how is this going to work?" Climbing onto her bed, she sat cross-legged, facing me, her boots hidden beneath the hem of her dress. "It's been eight years. I've outgrown Barbies and you've clearly outgrown…well, by the looks of it, everything." Reaching for her glasses on the nightstand, she perched them on her cute little button nose and studied me with a peculiar expression. "I still stand by the theory that your mama should've had your lanky butt tested for giantism."
"It ain't my fault you stopped growing when we were eight, short-ass," I shot back with a wolfish grin, joining her on her bed, feeling myself slip back into an age-old pattern of affection and banter with her. "And the first thing we need to do is go shopping." Reaching over, I tugged on the hem of her ugly-ass cardigan. "Didn’t realize you had aged fifty years, grams."
"I'll have you know that there is nothing wrong with my choice of clothing," she snipped, smacking my hand away. "Besides, give me comfort over fashion all day long."
"Yeah?" I cocked a brow and sprawled out at the end of her bed. "Well, there's regular comfort and then there's old folk's home comfort..."
"Hey, if you're too cool to hang out with my geriatric-clad ass, then you should probably rethink this whole friendship gig," she quipped, pushing her glasses up her nose. "Because, contrary to every other girl that runs in your circle at school, I don’t dress to impress the male student body."
I grinned. "Nerd."
She smirked back at me. "Douche."
I shook my head, still smiling. "So, these are your new digs." I looked around her bedroom, taking everything in. "Nice."
"It's okay," she agreed breezily, casting a quick glance around her purple themed bedroom. "It's better than bouncing between hospital wards and hotel rooms."
Pain hi
t me straight in the solar plexus, making it hard to breathe.
"That's how it was?" My words were gruff and mixed with a combination of guilt and curiosity. "When you were gone?"
"Yep. Pretty much." Releasing a heavy sigh, she pulled her knees to her chest. "I spent the first eighteen months after the fire in and out of the burn unit. Afterwards, when I was well enough, I traveled with Dad. He moved around a lot for work." Another small shrug. "This is the first permanent address I've had since we left."
Jesus.
"Y'all didn’t settle down anywhere?"
She shook her head. "Never for longer than a few months. After a while, I couldn’t take the constant traveling anymore. I wanted to go home, and Ocean Bay was home, even though Dad really didn’t want to come back here." She waved a hand around aimlessly. "Hence his glaring absence."
Well, shit.
"You spend a lot of time alone in this house?"
"Most of the time," she confirmed. "I mean, Dad comes and goes, but his grief –" Her breath hitched and she chewed on her lip for a long moment before continuing, "Let's just say he's still struggling with his demons, and I'm a blatant reminder of trauma he would rather avoid than deal with."
I wanted to ask what about her demons, but I knew I had lost the right to ask those questions. So, instead, I didn’t say a word. I just stayed, hoping that was enough in the moment.
The Fray's Look After You drifted up from the party downstairs, and I felt the words deep in my bones. The more I looked at her, the more my heartrate spiked, and I knew that I was feeling too damn much in this moment than was safe for me.
"Daryl?" Molly pulled herself onto her knees, looking both anxious and serious now. Her brown eyes were full of wariness and a sprinkle of…hope?
I sat straight up, turned to face her, and gave her my full attention.
"I've missed this." She chewed on her bottom lip, looking up at me with big, innocent, trusting eyes. "I've… missed you."
"Yeah, Molls –" my heart jackknifed in my chest and I had to clear my throat before I could speak, "I've missed you, too."
More than you could ever comprehend.
She continued to stare at me and I continued to soak her in, drowning in both her presence and the memory of the girl I'd spent my life adoring.
"This is different," I said, reaching out to touch a short strand of her blonde hair. It was cut short now, almost as short as mine, but it didn’t make her look boyish. The opposite. She looked even more feminine. "Makes you look like Tinkerbelle."
"Is that a good thing?"
"It ain't a bad thing."
I knew I needed to pull my hand back and stop touching her, but when my thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone and fingers settled on the curve of her jaw, I knew that wasn't going to happen.
Because I needed to touch this girl.
I needed to convince myself that this moment was real and not another one of my recurring nightmares.
"It's really you." A shudder rolled through me as realization hit me like a wrecking ball. "Fuck, you're really here."
She blew out a breath and leaned her cheek against my hand. "Yeah."
"Molly-Dolly."
She reached up and covered my hand with her small one. A loan tear trickled down her cheek and she sniffled. "King Doofus."
My chest physically heaved at the sound of that old pet name and I leaned in close, unable to stop myself or think about what I was doing.
Resting my forehead against hers, I cupped her small face in both hands and blew out a ragged breath. "Can I just…hold you real quick?"
"To convince yourself that I'm really here?"
"No," I croaked out with a shake of my head. "To convince myself that I am.”
Chewing on her lip, she nodded slowly.
It was all the permission I needed.
"Fuck." It was the only word I could manage to say, as I wrapped her up in my arms and held her to my chest. "Fuck."
Moments later, her arms came around my waist, and then we were hugging, holding onto each other like our lives depended on it.
"Me too, D." Molly buried her face in the crook of my neck and released a strangled sob. "Me too."
The Past
Eight years ago
Molly
"What the hell are you doing here?" Brittany Beckitt demanded when I reached the beach. It was officially the first day of summer break and she was definitely starting as she meant to go on; being a pain in my butt.
This was going to be a long summer…
Choosing to ignore the meanest girl in my grade, I set my beach bag on the sand and quickly whipped my t-shirt over my head.
"Are you deaf?" she continued to rant when I didn’t respond. "I’m speaking to you, Peterson."
"And I'm ignoring you, Beckitt," I countered, hands moving to the waistband of my shorts.
"A one-piece?" Britt sneered, taking in the sight of my plain yellow bathing suit. "What are you, a baby?"
"No, Britt, I'm ten." Almost. "Same as you," I added, eyeing the tiny pink bikini she had on. Her suit was ridiculous, not to mention inappropriate. She didn’t even have boobs for god's sake. None of us did.
"Whatever, loser," Britt sneered, planting her hands on her bony hips. "This beach is private property and you don’t have an invitation to be here."
"Wanna bet?"
My response threw her because she was used to everyone in our grade falling at her feet.
Not me.
No sir.
I couldn’t stand Brittany, Ashley, and their nasty girl gang, and I wasn’t afraid to call them out either.
Her blue eyes narrowed in anger. "Rourke is my boyfriend. He does what I tell him. This is his property, and if I tell him to kick you off this beach, he'll do it."
"Then go ahead and tell your boyfriend on me," I countered, entirely uninterested in wasting my breath on this barbie doll. "In the meantime, I'm going swimming. Last time I checked, your boyfriend didn’t own the ocean."
"Why's she here?" another familiar voice demanded and I inwardly groaned.
Not another one!
Ashley Thomas strutted towards me, clad in a sparkling pink bikini that matched her BFF.
"Why'd you think?" Britt replied, giving me a poisonous look. "She's Daryl King's puppy dog. Loser follows him everywhere he goes."
"Didn't you hear?" Ashley snipped. "Rourke's with Britt now." A cruel, snarky smile spread across her lips. "I'm Britt's BFF, and Daryl is Rourke's. You know what that means, right?"
Yes. "No, and I don’t care." Stepping around bitch and bitchier, I moved for the water, feeling a burning flame of jealousy spark to life inside of me.
"Hey," Daryl called out when I got into the water. Splashing, he waded over to me, all golden skin and white smile. "What took you so long? You said you'd be here hours ago."
"Sorry. Mom wasn't feeling well again." Wading out to meet him, I dunked under the water before quickly breaking the surface. "I had to help with Bobby."
"No problem – hey, you okay?" His brows furrowed then, clearly noticing the lack of enthusiasm in my voice. Stilling in the water, he tipped my chin up, green eyes locked on mine in concern. "Something happen?"
"Other than Britt and Ash telling me about their grand plans to date you and Rourke, nope. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Ashley Thomas?" He shuddered dramatically. "Dude, she's a total girlie-girl."
"I think that's the point, D," I said flatly.
"Yeah, it's a hard pass," he replied, scrunching his nose up in clear disgust. "Fuck knows why Rourke agreed to date that nightmare." He shivered again. "She's bad news, Molls. I've got a good nose for that sort of thing, and that girl is gonna cause him nothing but problems."
I agreed. "Do you think they kiss?"
"I know they do."
"Ew." I grimaced. "Gross."
"Yep," he agreed with a nod. "Crazy, huh?"
"Please don’t kiss her," I blurted out then.
"Kiss who?"
>
"Ashley." Red-faced, I looked down at the water before forcing myself to meet his confused gaze. "Please don’t."
Daryl stared at me for a long time, green eyes glued to my brown ones. "Okay," he finally said, and my breath escaped me in a sudden rush. "I won't."
"You won't?"
"No, Molls." He shook his head slowly. "I won't touch her…"
Present Day
Molly
Mentally reeling from my long overdue confrontation with Daryl, the next day at school passed by in a hazed blur. Mercy was hungover to the point where she couldn’t string a sentence together without gagging, so chatting with her was a bust.
Yeah, alcohol was the devil.
And even though Daryl and I had decided to give our friendship another shot, I found myself going out of my way to avoid him at school. Thankfully, it was Friday and I had the entire weekend to comb over my issues before having to face him again.
It wasn’t that I regretted our conversation last night, or that I had changed my mind on us being friends, but I needed a minute to wrap my head around the sudden and drastic turn of events.
All of it felt so surreal.
Last night, Daryl King was sitting on my bed, saying all the right things, smiling the best kind of smiles, hugging me tighter than he ever had before, but something didn’t feel right.
Because I knew he wasn’t the same person I used to know.
He wasn’t my Daryl anymore.
Yes, I genuinely believed him when he admitted that he hadn't intentionally pretended I didn’t exist, but I had two years to study the person he had become.
The popular jock who worked hard on the field and played even harder off it.
The Falcon's QB1.
The Academy's answer to James freaking Dean.
He'd been a busy boy…
For the rest of the night, we had talked about mundane things like football and school, our favorite tv shows and music. He didn’t go downstairs to join the rest of his friends who were partying it up and I didn’t ask him to.
