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To lose everyone and rely on only each other, how can two people resist one another? Out there on the road, it’s a wild kind of love.
Daryl didn’t doubt that Dog would now blindly follow Beth to the ends of the earth. The animal wasn’t the only one.
He stepped up to the bar, ordered a tall cold one and sat his ass on the stool. He was on his second swallow when he felt it, a hand on his back. Not threatening, not intimidating, it was a light touch, a woman’s touch. He turned his head and there she was.
Daryl Dixon was six years old when his mother told him that he had the gift. His mom was long gone by the time he realized what she had meant. He wishes she had explained that day so he could ask who had the dumbass idea to refer to this as a “gift”.
Everyone gets lonely, she reminds herself. It comes and goes and it’s nothing to dwell on. And her always watching Daryl Dixon – anticipating seeing him every Sunday – is just because she’s lonely. She knows it doesn’t mean anything. How can it? He barely looks at her, let alone talks to her.
It is not grief, so much as a hollow ache, which stays with Daryl in Alexandria. It stayed with him when she couldn’t.
Daryl reminisces about his time with Beth.
It’s all starting to look the same. The days, the nights, the blood, the scars, the kills. Everything is becoming one big merging horror story and Daryl’s drowning. All he needs in his life is some light, all he needs is a song and then he promises: he will be good.