"What's your worst hangover, your best night yet?

Your 90 proof, your Marlboro Red?

The best damn thing you lucked into?

That's easy, girl

Mine would be you."

-Blake Shelton

…

Word about him and Beth spreads quickly.

He means real fucking quick.

Martinez' reopening had been on Friday night and now it was Monday evening and Daryl was just about done with all the knowing looks and stares that'd been directed at him since he'd shown up at Dale's garage for work this morning. Apparently, one of the bints at the party had gone off and blabbed all weekend about how he'd been there with the youngest Greene and was 'practically dry-humping the farmer's daughter' in front of everybody.

Work had been barely tolerable. A couple of the guys, led by Omar and his always loyal wingman Axel, had taken a particular glee out of making fun of him and his sudden preference for 'sweet and innocent-looking jailbait'. Daryl would have knocked both of them on their asses if they'd made any other comments about Beth, but he knew that neither of the two men meant any harm or really gave a damn about who he was with and were just taking the opportunity to give him shit after years of knowing each other.

The shop's clients were another thing.

He swears to God that if he catches another one of those old broads from the church committee staring at him like he's the Devil reincarnated, sent up from the deepest hole in Hell to corrupt the innocent souls and bodies of the young girls in their small town, he's gonna give 'em all a reason to be really afraid of him. As it is, it'd only been T-Dog's presence that stopped him from yelling at them to mind their own fucking business.

"Good things happen to good people," T-Dog had told him, pulling his attention away from the ladies he'd driven over from the church in his van so one could pay Dale her tab for fixing a broken radiator the previous week. He'd placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it twice in a demonstration of solidarity, before giving him a sympathetic smile. "I know Beth, and she's a smart girl. Don't let a little gossip ruin whatever happiness y'all found."

Daryl'd been too dumbfounded to do anything other than nod.

He could easily remember all the times Merle had made racist and bigoted comments about the man, calling him a dog and nigger and every other fucked up and derogatory name and stereotype he could think of when it came to the Atlanta native. While Daryl hadn't ever really signed on to that school of thought, he knew he should have tried and put a stop to it instead of keeping his mouth shut for so many years and letting Merle spit his poison. It wasn't until after the last time his brother took off that he started running into T-Dog more frequently, eventually buying him a beer they'd both understood was meant as a silent apology once he realized what a loyal and honest to God good person the man was.

Still, he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

As soon as the old clock hanging from the north wall chimed five o'clock Daryl'd climbed out from underneath the old impala he was working on. He hadn't even bothered to change his oil-stained shirt or wipe off the grease that'd been accidently splattered on his face when they'd taken out the transmission from the Chevy. Instead, he'd called out to Dale that he was leaving for the day and ignored Oscar's taunts about getting home to the little misses, flipping him off over his shoulder at the same time that he revved up his motorcycle so he could get home.

Truth was, he wasn't even sure when he'd be seeing Beth again. She was supposed to come over tomorrow night, but he doubted her Daddy would be giving her much of a chance to get away from the farm once he found out what his daughter had been up to in town since she'd graduated from Jefferson High. If her old man hadn't found out by now, it wouldn't be long until the news reached him. Daryl was already half-prepping himself for when the retired vet showed up at his door, demanding answers about his baby girl.

It was not something he was looking forward to, facing off with the man who was very likely to end up being his future father-in-law, but he'd stand his ground and fight for her if push came to shove. He was done with people telling him he didn't deserve the things he wanted in life.

Daryl eases off the accelerator once he starts nearing the edge of town where his house is located. It stood at the end of the quiet street, a single floor with a large backyard and a tool shack that was one winter away from falling apart. His neighbors were the Peletiers, consisting of an older woman named Carol and her teenage daughter Sophia. They were good people who minded their own business and he would gladly admit to taking a liking to them, keeping an eye out for both girls when things started to buzz around in the rough neighborhood.

It wasn't much, by anyone's standards: small with two bedrooms, a bathroom, living room and kitchen; practical and efficient. The sink in the bathroom leaked if you didn't close the handles just right and the plumbing rattled at night when the weather got cold and the pipes would strain. The outlets in the kitchen had been crossed by a useless electrician and needed some fixing, and the heater in the living room had to be replaced. The place needed a lot of work that Daryl just hadn't had the time to get to.

But it was clean, and it was his, and he was paying it off with the money he worked his ass to earn. Most importantly, it'd never belonged to another Dixon. As far as he knew, nothing bad had ever happened inside and he could step into any room and feel peace instead of the dread and weight of his memories. It'd been less than two years since he'd sold their old house and moved into this property, and Daryl's only regret was that he hadn't done it sooner.

He pulls into the driveway, a smile blooming on his face as he notices the familiar blue pick-up truck already parked there. It always threw him for a loop, really, how his tiny slip of girl got around in her cowboy boots and monstrous old truck, beat up and dented from years of labor in the farm. She was a natural behind the wheel, too, used to the uneven terrain and messed up highways; his girl could handle herself in anything.

Daryl knew she was there, but it doesn't prepare him for the sight that meets him when he opens the door.

Beth is in the kitchen, standing next to the stove as she lifts the lids off a few pots and mixes up the sizzling and steaming contents with a spatula. Her long hair is pulled up into a messy bun and the frilliest blue apron he's ever seen is tied around her waist. Instead of her usual dresses she's wearing a spaghetti strap lilac crop top and a black pair of skinny jeans that fit her like a fucking glove, accentuating her ass in a way that makes his mouth water even more than the smell of whatever she has baking in the oven.

"Hey!" she greets him when she spots him walking in, turning off the handles on the stove and double checking that her timer is still working. She pulls at the strings of her apron and tosses it onto the counter, rinsing her hands in the sink before practically skipping over to him.

"I wanted to surprise you," she giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck to bring his head down for a kiss. Beth moans when his hands fall to her waist, gripping onto her hips with enough pressure to make her lose her breath and gasp when his right hand slides up underneath her top and rubs against her rib bones.

Daryl loves that she doesn't care that his shirt is dirty and will probably stain her pretty blouse if she keeps pressing against him. He loves that she doesn't even flinch at the smell of engine grease on his cheek and forehead when she leans in to kiss him. He loves that he can hold onto her even if his hands are dirty and she'll never look down in disgust at how he's tainted her porcelain skin or rubbed off some dirt into her pores.

She wants him, and everything that comes with him.

He breaks their kiss and she sighs happily against his lips, bringing one of her hands to rest on his chest as she hugs and holds onto him. "So, what do you think?"

"You got me," he admits, resting his chin on the top of her head and letting his hand wander until it's caressing the length of her spine and Beth starts arching into his touch. "Didn't think I was gonna see ya 'til tomorrow, at least."

"Me neither" she agrees, separating from him but grabbing onto his hands so she can slip her fingers between his. "But I've got some great news and I had to see you tonight."

She looks happy; more so than he was expecting and he wonders just what had happened that had her in such a great mood. He's sure that she has to know the town's been gossiping about them by now, and he'd figured she'd be worried about her Daddy's reaction. Yet here she was, happy as a clam and cooking dinner for him. "You gonna tell me soon?"

"Yeah, but let's get you comfortable first," Beth nods, smiling at him at the same time that she tugs onto his hand until he's following her to the sofa. She pushes him softly, motioning for him to take a seat and Daryl wants to groan in pleasure when his tired back hits the soft cushions she'd brought over from her room last week. He thinks he must be getting old, because spending entire days tucked under a car just wasn't the joy that it once used to be.

For her part, she takes a seat on the floor, crossing her legs as her swift fingers begin to work on the knots of his heavy-duty boots. She's quiet and diligent as she untangles the laces, pulling off both his shoes and carefully placing them to his right before tugging the white cotton socks he's wearing along with them. Her hands are soft and gentle and Daryl can only stare at her as she massages the balls of his feet with a tenderness he didn't know existed before her.

They've done a lot of things together, and he's seen and touched every part of her he could reach and vice versa, but somehow this little moment felt just as, if not more, intimate than if they were naked and wrapped up in each other. She doesn't have to do this, and he would be the first to tell her as much, but he knows that she's doing it because she wants to show him that she cares about him. This completely crazy girl wanted to love him and prove it and he was getting tired of fighting against the voices yelling in his head for him to let go of his reasons and just let her do so.

God, it's so fucking domestic: him coming home from his nine-to-five to find his beautiful girl with dinner almost ready for him, wanting him to relax in the sofa as she takes care of him and welcomes him home.

He knows his father must be turning in his grave right now, and no doubt Merle would call him a pussywhipped little bitch if he were to walk into the scene that he and Beth were creating at the moment, but Daryl doesn't give a shit.

He wants to live out this dream; this little glimmer of hope that she lights in him.

"Patricia knows about us."

"What'd she say?" he asks, groaning when her nimble fingers press down against one of the knots of stress that'd dug into the bottom of his heel. "Should I be expecting to be ambushed soon?"

Beth shakes her head, tilting her chin and beaming at him. "Nope, I talked to her about it last night and explained everything," she tells him, patting his legs before climbing onto the sofa so she can sit beside him and gushing with uninhibited joy. "She understands, Daryl! She even said she'd help me talk to my Daddy about it."

For the second time today, he's left speechless. He hadn't expected anybody in her family to be in their corner, especially not the woman who played the strongest maternal role in Beth's life. He feels like a weight is being lifted off his shoulders, and a little bit more of that hope she's always trying to get him to have creeps into his heart.

"That's just, fucking great," he mumbles out, cringing at his word choice and hoping that she understood he meant that in the best way possible and that he's really just out of his depth right now. He's never been good with words, but he'll always give it a try when it comes to her. "I mean, really, didn't think we'd have anyone being all understanding from your side."

Her smile turns into a grin, so he guesses she understood what he meant. "I know! But Patricia is one of the most amazing and kind women I've ever met, and, yeah, she was a little shocked, but once that wore off she was happy that I'd found someone to love who treated me right."

"When are you plannin' on telling your dad?"

"Tomorrow night, at dinner," she answers, leaning closer so she can kiss him again. "He's finally gonna know and then we won't have to worry about sneaking in time to see each other anymore."

"Yeah, cause he's gonna lock you up in there and load up his shotgun so he can come looking for me," Daryl grumbles, pinching her hip and smiling when she laughs out loud. "Want me to make it easier for him and be there when you tell him tomorrow?"

His offer hangs between them, and her expression turns soft and loving as she gazes at him and contemplates her options. "I've been thinking about that, and I think it'd be best if I talked and explained to my daddy alone, first."

"Ya think so?"

"Yeah," she repeats, scooting closer to him until their legs are pressed up together and he can almost hear her heart beat. "I know he's gonna be mad because he's so protective, and I think seeing you there ain't gonna do us much good. Once he cools off you can come by so he can see what I see in you, and I know he'll understand."

Daryl lifts one of his hands until it's behind her head, pulling at the yellow scrunchie that was holding her bun up until the golden waves he's obsessed with tumble down along her shoulder and back. "You're placin' a lotta faith on a somethin' that only you believe."

This time, Beth only shakes her head at him, leaning down until she's ghosting her lips across his.

"You're a good man, Daryl, it just takes people a little time to see it."

…

The drive up to the farm from Atlanta is filled with silence.

The plane arrived exactly as scheduled and the car she'd reserved under both their names had been ready for them as soon as they checked into the rental lot. Pete loaded up their luggage into the trunk of the shiny black Mercedes before taking the driver's seat and they'd quickly filtered out of the heavy city traffic. Once they hit Highway 85, Beth had hoped to dissipate the tension by playing music and she'd meddled with the radio until she landed on a station that aired classic rock, causing the last half an hour to be filled with Queen's greatest hits.

Bohemian Rhapsody is nearing the end of its third verse when Beth finally decides that enough is enough and she has to own up to her outburst.

"I'm sorry."

Averting his sight away from the road for just a second, Pete glances at her apologetic expression and his brows furrow together before looking away. "You don't need to apologize for being upset about something, Beth."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you," she murmurs, looking out the window to the pretty Georgia woodlands, bursting with color even though it was January and they were straight in the middle of winter. "I just sort of got thrown for a shock and I didn't expect to react the way I did."

Pete sighs, relaxing the death-grip he'd had on the steering wheel but still not looking her way. "I don't care that you snapped at me, I just wish you felt like you could trust me enough to tell me what's going on."

"I do trust you!" she insists, wishing he would pull the car over so they could sort this out or shut his mouth and wait until they arrived at the farm to talk it out. If there's one thing she's learned from being a southern girl it's that the road is always unpredictable, and she really doesn't want to take the chance of them being distracted and running over some poor animal trying to cross over. "There are just some things that are painful for me to talk about."

He must have read her mind, because he pulls over to the next opened clearing and shuts off the car before speaking again. He lifts one of his hands so it's cupping her left cheek, and Beth leans into his warm touch by pure instinct. "I know, but part of healing is telling people about those things," he says, using his thumb to caress the slight arch of her cheekbone. "If not to me, I really wish you'd talk to somebody about it. I remember the way you were when we met, and I never want you to feel like you're back in that place."

Pete means well: she knows that, but it doesn't stop the feeling of a knife being twisted in her lungs from churning in her stomach. She doesn't want to talk about this, not to him or to anybody else; not to people who would never be able to understand how fervently she'd felt everything and how he'd snatched that away from her and left her empty and cold. Not to somebody who would sit there and judge her as a still being a stupid teenager who couldn't let go of heartbreak, even if it screwed up a relationship that promised her everything she could ever want.

"There was nothing wrong with me when we met," she spits out, moving her face away from his hands and leaning back until her back presses against the vehicle's door. "I wasn't and I'm not some little doll that needs to be fixed."

"I never said you were," Pete defends himself, keeping his tone normal and neutral even as her own rises and her temper flourishes. "But you were so sad, baby, even if you don't want to admit it. And the look you gave me in the plane was just like the ones you used to get back then and I don't want you to lose your happiness again."

Beth stares at him, hating that she's analyzing his face for traces of deceit that he's never given her a reason for, but it's as void of malice as it's ever been and she closes her eyes for a second to let herself give in. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the moist ground from this morning's rain and the gentle brush of the cool breeze coming in through the rolled-down window. If she focuses, she can hear the soft rustling of leaves on the floor and the chirps from the cicadas searching for shelter.

"It's true," she confesses, and the admission leaves her feeling like she's just torn the scab off a weeping wound that needed so much more time to finish knitting together. "But I'm not sad when I'm with you. You make me happy."

He smiles at her, and she watches as the concern eases out of his chocolate-tinted eyes and the warmth that she's grown so accustomed to finding in them returns to its rightful place. "You make me happy, too, and you know how much I love you."

"I love you, too," she answers, and this time the tightness in her throat is gone and the words come as easy as air when they leave her mouth. "I'll think about it, okay? But not right now. We'll sit down and talk about all this when we go back to Savannah in two weeks."

Pete nods, pressing a kiss to her temple when she settles back into her seat. "Together," he promises, turning the key in the ignition to restart the car and easing back into the highway.

…

The farm is just the same as she remembers it.

It's almost sunset by the time they roll into the Greene's property, and Beth feels her heart flutter with a heavy wave of nostalgia when her eyes are instantly drawn to the spot where her mother's favorite roses still bloom gorgeously in the garden. She has no doubt that Patricia is the one to thank for it, and she feels her love and appreciation for the older woman multiply tenfold. Without thought, she reaches for Pete's hand and squeezes his fingers between hers for just a second, waiting for his reassuring look to give her the boost in confidence she needs to reunite with her family.

He doesn't disappoint, and Beth's never been happier that he's here with her than she is in this moment.

"Where's my little Bethy?"

The voice pierces across the yard when Beth opens the door to climb out of the car, and on the top step of the front porch stands her Daddy, tall and proud and strong as ever, arms wide open as he waits for her to greet him. She doesn't even bother to close the door before she's sprinting over to him, letting herself be lulled by her father's embrace and the familiar scent of hay and cotton that clung to him. His snow-white beard is longer now, and his hair is pulled back into a pony tail just above his neck.

Lord, she'd missed him.

"Daddy, there's someone you've got to meet," she tells him, taking a step back and turning to find Pete standing patiently at the bottom of the steps, waiting for her to introduce him. "This is my boyfriend, Pete Dolgen."

Hershel stares at him, scanning his whole appearance in much the same way that she had earlier in the car, before holding out his hand for the younger man to shake. They're so different, her Daddy and Pete, and that's never been more obvious to her than it is as her father stands in his clean but well-worn work clothes and her boyfriend stands beside him with designer jeans and a nice gray dress shirt on.

Everything about Pete's life has led him to being formal and precise; from his strict upbringing in a wealthy home and society to his military training and background as a high-ranking officer. He was always clean and presentable, with his hair brushed and his shoulders thrown back and head held high.

"I'm Hershel Greene," he introduces himself, walking down the remaining steps so that they're both standing on the lawn. "It's very nice to meet you, young man. I'm glad you had the opportunity to come down here with my little girl."

"Honor's all mine, sir," Pete answers immediately, polite and respectful, and a little grin tugs at Beth's lips as she watches the two men interact.

"I hope you'll enjoy your time here. Breakfast is served at six in the morning and there are chores to be done right after. Otis will give you a list of your lot tomorrow and you can ask him if you need help with something. Oh, and you'll be staying in the guest bedroom, of course."

Pete is already nodding his head in agreement when Beth decides it's time to interrupt her father's mischief. "Daddy," she scolds him, placing a reassuring hand on Pete's arm and trying hard to sound stern, but it's hard when she can't even keep her laughter at bay. "Stop it; he doesn't know you're only joking."

"Oh, hush, doodlebug," he shoots back, pinching her cheek before turning to give Pete an amused smile. "It's been so long since Glenn stopped falling for my tricks that Pete here is running short on luck."

Speaking of which, they've been standing in front of the house for the last ten minutes and Beth hadn't seen or heard anyone else. Her sister and her family were already here, and Patricia and Otis moved in after both Greene sisters left King's County. Her father needed the help and it made sense for the two people who'd been his constant friends and confidants, working side by side with him for over half their lives, to join him. By all means, the place should be bursting with sounds right now, just like she remembered it being when she was younger.

She was not expecting this quietness.

Beth didn't know how to deal with it.

"Where's everybody else? I thought for sure there'd be a full house when we got here."

"Maggie brought her friend Tara from Atlanta and they both headed into town with Patricia to pick up some groceries we were missing for tomorrow night's dinner. Otis took Glenn and Michael out for a ride because that little troublemaker is obsessed with the horses and scaring the hens."

She doesn't mean to, but she flinches, and she can feel Pete's gaze burning into her as he tries to figure out what's wrong.

No. She will not let herself feel bad about her sister bringing her friend over for what was supposed to be two weeks of family bonding time. She'd met Tara almost two years ago and she was a nice girl, a little awkward and eccentric, but sweet enough. It was not her fault that she'd gotten caught up in the web of broken promises and missed phone calls that the sisters had spun for themselves, any more than it was her fault that Beth felt that she was the girl she'd been replaced for

Instead, she focuses on her Daddy's words about her sweet nephew. Maggie's son, Michael, was sweet and cute as button, from the last pictures she'd seen of him. He looked just like Glenn but had the Greene spark shinning in his dark brown eyes. His wavy black hair flopped across his forehead and he was infamous for always crawling into tight spaces and scaring his parents half to death.

They were all suckers for him.

Beth grins at her father, hoping to hide the hurt that threatened to overshadow the joy that this day was supposed to bring. "He's Maggie's son, what were you expecting?"

Hershel's expression turns wistful, and she knows that he's not thinking of their conversation anymore, but instead is wrapped up in a memory from better times that felt so far away. "That he might be," he pauses, and that little drop of sadness that lived inside all of them flickers across his face before he has a chance to put it away. "But I swear that he reminds me of how Shawn used to run around when he was that age."

Beth tenses, waiting for the familiar slap of hurt that her brother's memory always brings to hit her, but all she feels is a dull little throb in her chest, filled with longing for her brother instead of anger and resentment over him being taken from her. It's the same she feels for her mother, and she's thankful that the feeling has lessened to where she can now remember the good things they did that used to make her so happy. "Shawn was terrible; I can't even start to imagine what messes he'd get into just to prove he was the cool uncle."

She turns to Pete, smiling at him and hoping he wasn't feeling too left out from their conversation. He never had a chance to meet the rest of her family before today, and Beth knows she hasn't exactly been an open book when it came to sharing what it was that drew them apart. "You can't even imagine how much hell he would have given you for being here with me," she grins, teasing him in the same comfortable way she always has. "And then he would have tried to steal you away so y'all could be each other's 'Bro.'"

"That would've been something great to experience," he laughs, and his posture relaxes now that he's feeling a little bit more welcomed and involved. That was her Pete; always wanting to do things right and please the world, making everybody love him without much of a choice.

They all turn when they hear the familiar sound of an engine drawing nearer, and Beth recognizes her old pick-up truck driving straight into the yard. Her sister steps out of it, slamming the door behind her while she's being followed by what looks like a worried Tara and a very upset Patricia, who's scowling at the older Greene sister.

Maggie marches up the steps, storming right past her and Pete and her Daddy without a second glance, stomping up the steps until they can all hear her bedroom door being slam shut loud enough to resonate throughout the entire house. Pete stares at her in confusion, and Beth sighs as her only explanation.

God, it was good to be home.

…

AN: Hey guys!

Thanks for all your lovely reviews on the last chapter! It makes my day to read them and find out how much you guys like the story. And look, this is my longest chapter yet, to say thanks!

I've started talking to some of you guys on tumblr and you're all lovely. Also, it's taking way more self-restraint than it should to step away from that site. Ha!

Hope you like this one as well, and this is a fair warning that now that everyone's back in town things are about to start unfolding.

Thanks for reading and don't forget to review!