AN- What is Rylynn's name? I have had some great guesses in my PM inbox and the reviews, but none have gotten it correct!
Again (like a malfunctioning Pandora app), I greatly appreciate all of the feedback and views. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
Onwards and upwards!
A soft knock sounded out in the empty house. Daryl was instantly on his feet and instinctually reaching for his crossbow, which was nowhere to be found. He had left it at the house, after Carol suggested that it wouldn't be appropriate to show up to a party with it. He cursed the amount of naïve trust they had put into this place so quickly.
Rylynn was on her feet as well, and she had her large knife in hand as she eyeballed the front door. The knocking came again, and a young voiced called in, "Rylynn? Are you home?"
Rylynn let out a sigh and put away her weapon as she quickly crossed the living room and kitchen. She unlocked the front door and pulled it open to reveal Sam standing there, her guitar in both of his small arms.
"Sam, what are you doing here?" she asked, both concerned and affectionate. He looked down, afraid that he had made her upset.
"I'm sorry, I know it's late," he said to her doorstep. "I just saw that you left your guitar and…I didn't want you to worry about it."
She rubbed her fingers over her eyes and got down on her knees so that she was eye level with the young boy. "Thank you, Sam," she finally said, taking the guitar from him. "That was very considerate of you. I would have never worried about it, though, because I know you would have taken great care of it for the night."
He beamed at her praise. "Yes! Yes I would have!"
"Come on, Sam, let's let Rylynn rest," Jessie called out from the street. She had walked over with her son in the dark. Sam obediently went back to his mother, and waved good-night to Rylynn.
"Night Jessie, night Sam," Rylynn called out as she closed the front door and latched it again. She was examining the instrument as she crossed back over to the mattress. Daryl hovered around it, unsure of what to do.
"I uh….suppose I should get goin'," he murmured. "It's late an' all."
She strummed her fingers across all the strings, the chords reverberating around the porch.
"Daryl," she said, instead of responding to his suggestion. "How long has it been since you've heard music?"
The question stunned him. It seemed irrelevant, with the world on edge and the uncertainty they were living in.
"Dunno," he said.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, you said you wanted to go home, and I ignored that. That was rude of me, and I apologize."
Her bluntness stunned him. No one had ever apologized for much to him, and certainly not for ignoring him.
"'S nothin' to apologize for," he responded, still swaying back and forth on his feet.
"Of course it is," she admonished him, looking straight at him. "You are worthy of respect."
The statement made him uncomfortable, even embarrassed. Very few things he had done in his life were respectable; Rick was the respected man in the family, not him.
She noticed his discomfort. "Very few people have told you that before, am I right?"
"No one has," he muttered, still studying the floor.
"All the more reason to listen to me when I say that you are," she said matter-of-factly.
He didn't want this focus to be on him. Her intensity and her confidence made him inclined to believe her words, but the voice in his head was inching into the conversation.
"Ya any good at that?" he asked, gesturing at the guitar.
"No, I'm terrible," she joked. "The truth is, I've been holding all of Alexandria captive and forcing them to be my unwilling audience."
He shook his head at her and let out a small laugh. She grinned back and gestured to the opposite side of her perch.
"If you want, you can judge for yourself."
He hesitated. He didn't know what staying there meant. He wasn't sure he could resist her close presence for much longer, and her sweetness was starting to feel intoxicating.
But leaving…leaving felt like a physically impossible task. Every fiber in his being didn't want to leave. It was only that stupid little voice that was driving him to the door. Sure, stay. Who are you kidding? She'd never, in a million years, want to be with you. A woman who even looks like that would never look twice at you. She's probably this nice to everyone. Everyone loves her, that's part of her game. You're no exception; you're nothing special.
"Daryl?" she asked, looking to him for an answer. She saw several emotions flicker through his eyes, not the least of which was fear. Was he afraid of her? This strong, capable, ruthless hunter, scared of her, a lean, flighty, social... glorified delivery girl?
"Daryl," she said again, this time more assertively. "Let me play you something. I haven't played it for anyone here. And if you want to go after that, you don't have to say anything. It's enough that you'll even listen."
He took a deep breath, and sat down on the opposite diagonal of her. She made no comment about the space, but simply took up her instrument and began to play.
The chords were soft and gentle, pattering back and forth between themselves with the occasional inflection. Mild builds and gradual falls lent to a calm, rocking rhythm with obvious folk roots.
And then she opened her mouth, and barely above a whisper, began to sing.
"Well you send my life a whirling
Darling when you're twirling
On the floor
Who cares about tomorrow?
What more is tomorrow?
Than another day.
When you swept me away
Yeah you swept me away…"
She shyly ducked her head up to gauge his reaction. He was focused on her, his mouth partially hanging open. He voice was quiet and high, as if she had sung that way since she was ten years old. She sounded innocent and sincere, full of hope.
"You said with such honest feeling
But what'd you really mean
When you said that I'm your man
Well how my darling can it be
When you have never seen me
And you never will again
That you swept me away
Yeah you swept me away…
Well you send my life a whirling
Darling when you're twirling
On the floor
And who cares about tomorrow?
Girl, what more is tomorrow?
Than another day.
When you swept me away
Yeah you swept me away
Yeah you swept me away."
She played a few final chords and then set down the instrument in front of her. She reached across the mattress and took his hand in hers.
"Thank you for listening, Daryl," she said quietly, and the leaned across and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He felt his eyes slide closed and his face press back into her lips for the fleetest of seconds, releasing when she pulled back. She let go of his hand.
"Good night, Angel," she winked. He slowly stood up, feeling uncoordinated and disoriented. He went back into the house and crossed to the front door as she set the guitar inside next to the bookcase of rounds. It almost fell over, and she caught it and set her attention to placing it properly.
He had already unlatched the lock and his hand was on the knob when an unexpected surge of courage went through him. If Rick was going to try to overthrow the town tonight…or if Deanna showed up in the morning and told them to pack up… he wanted to make sure that Rylynn was going to choose his group, his family.
He crossed back through the kitchen and into the living room in two strides and was beside her. She straightened up from the guitar, looking at him with questioning eyes. Before he could lose his nerve, he curled one finger under her upturned chin and turned her face slightly. He lowered his face to hers and pressed his lips to her smooth skin, kissing her exactly where she had kissed him.
He pulled away and promptly turned and practically ran out the door, hurriedly saying, "Night," as he closed the door behind him. If he had taken another half a second to turn around and look at her, he would have seen an enthralled smile on her face, her fingers raised to touch where his lips had just been.
AN- For those curious ones, and to give credit where credit is due, the song Rylynn played and sang is the Avett Brother's "Swept Away" (Sentimental Version).