Page 59 of Mistletoe & Motor Oil

"Clearly," she replied, her voice sharp.

"I'm an asshole," I admitted, my shoulders sagging.

"Agreed," she drawled.

"I just… I don't know how to… I'm sorry, okay?" The words tumbled out of me like an avalanche. "I just... I'm waiting for you to realize that there's no way in hell you'd ever want to be with some redneck twice your age who can't offer you nothing except fixing things that need fixing because you deserve someone better than me, Beth. And I'm scared that by the time you'll realize it, and you will, I'll be so fucking in love with you that I can't let you go even if I should."

Beth was silent for a long time, her expression unreadable.

The silence stretched on, and I began to feel more and more uncomfortable under her steady gaze. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for her to say something—anything.

"Say something," I finally said. "Please."

"And I'm scared you'll run away when you realize I'm already in love with you," she said, her voice trembling.

I sucked in a breath, the weight of her words crashing into me like a tidal wave. I moved toward her, every step deliberate, and then I kissed her deeply, passionately. All the walls I'd built around myself crumbled as our lips met.

"Mine," I whispered against her mouth, my voice raw with emotion. "Mine. That's all I want for Christmas."

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "Yours," she said softly. "I'm yours."

I felt something inside me break free—a surge of relief and joy so intense it almost overwhelmed me. I kissed her again, pouring everything I couldn't say into that kiss.

For the first time in years, I felt whole.

"So," Beth said, leaning against me, her warmth seeping through my jacket. "The car?"

"Yours," I said.

Her eyes widened, and she pulled back slightly. "Wait, Daryl?—"

"It was supposed to be a project for me and my brother," I explained, the words coming out rough. "But he never bothered to show up."

"Daryl, it's too much?—"

"I moved your stereo into it," I continued, cutting her off gently. "I know it means a lot to you. But… I want you to have it. So I don't have to worry about you breaking down everywhere."

"Daryl," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she looked at me. Without another word, she kissed me again, and this time it was different. It was tender, a kiss that held promises and unspoken words. Her lips were soft against mine, moving slowly as if savoring the moment. I could taste the hint of peppermint on her breath, mingling with the warmth of her mouth.

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer until there was no space left between us. The world around us faded away, leaving just the two of us standing there in the cold morning air. Her fingers threaded through my hair, sending shivers down my spine.

This kiss wasn't about passion or desperation; it was about connection and understanding. It was about finding something in each other despite the shit life threw out. And in that moment, I knew that no matter how rough things got, we would always find our way back to each other.

When we finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine, her breath mingling with mine in the cold air.

"Best Christmas ever, Daryl Walker," she whispered. "Thank you."

I didn't have any words left, so I just held her tighter. I had no intention of ever letting her go.