My Angel is the Centerfold

Chapter 18

"Why is he here?," Harley demanded, her voice rising with her increasing frustration. "He's not allowed to be here!" She gestured towards her father, who also served as the bane of her entire existence. Despite the way she was pointing and screaming almost directly into his face, Merle didn't react to her loud ranting. Carol guessed that he'd heard it all before. He just gave Harley a sideways glance and took another bite of the grilled cheese sandwich Carol made him, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. But even that small action was enough to send Harley further into her spiral of frustration. "He's eating all the bread!"

"Harley." Carol said the girl's name, using a soft even tone. "We run a bakery. We can get some more bread." Carol could tell Harley was ready with a laundry list of complaints about her father, most of which were probably legitimate. So Carol held her hand up, gesturing for Harley to wait before she spoke again. "Sophia's dad chased me through the building. He might still be hanging around outside. It's not safe. I asked Merle to stay here, at least until Daryl and your mom get back."

Wren reached across the table, setting her slim hand on her father's forearm. "It's okay daddy," she soothed. "I'm glad you're here." Merle smiled as he pulled his arm from under her soft touch and reached over to ruffle up Wren's hair. Harley let out a string of profanity so foul it seemed to hover above the kitchen table for a moment before it dissipated. And then she stomped down the hall and slammed her bedroom door shut.

"Ya better go make sure she ain't calling the fuckin' cops," Merle suggested. "I ain't gettin' arrested fer this shit."

Carol cast a concerned glance down the hall. And then she chased after Harley, easing the girl's bedroom door open before she stepped inside. She braced herself in case something other than angry words and curses was about to be launched at her. Instead, she found Harley curled up in a ball on her bed. She looked like she was trying her best not to cry and failing miserably. Carol felt an intense surge of sympathy for the girl. With her no nonsense attitude, it was easy to forget that Harley was barely old enough to not be considered a child anymore. And she'd already gone through more in her life than most adults. Carol lowered herself down on the bed and reached over, softly rubbing her hand over Harley's shoulder.

"Go away," Harley grumbled between sobs, though she seemed to be leaning into Carol's touch instead of jerking away. So Carol stayed, rubbing her hand over Harley's back as she released what sounded like years of pent up frustration into her pillow. When her body finally stopped shaking, she spoke. Her voice was thick with emotion.

"I left my skateboard out."

Carol wasn't sure how to respond. Harley didn't even own a skateboard, not that she'd ever seen. But instead of demanding an explanation, she waited silently and let Harley say what she needed to say.

"I left my skateboard out. My dad came home drunk and tripped over it. He fell, and the bottle of whiskey in his hand hit the floor and broke. He got mad and threw my skateboard across the room. It hit my mom in the face. That's how her nose got broke." Harley paused, lifting the hem of her shirt and using it to scrub the tears from her face. "...When the cops showed up, I told 'em he punched my mom. I told them that so they would take him away. Because every time he shows up, he ruins our lives. Just look at what he did today. Now my mom has to go take her clothes off for a bunch of perverts to pay for his fuckin' mess."

Carol sighed. It was a small sad noise. River told her on a few occasions that her ex never actually laid a hand on her. But Carol didn't really believe that, not when the arrest record told another story. And even if he never physically beat River, that didn't mean Merle didn't abuse her in a hundred other ways. He was unfaithful and an addict at the very least. He broke the car window because River was dancing with another man at the club. But Carol still felt there was a difference between Merle getting drunk and throwing a skateboard across the room and Ed slowly bending her arm until it broke because she didn't cook his pork chop the way he liked it. Merle's daughters didn't appear to be afraid of him, not like Sophia was afraid of her father.

"I'm sure he's sorry for breaking the display case," Carol offered. It would have been nice if Merle took Negan outside before he cleaned the floor with his face. But she wasn't necessarily mad at Merle for what he did. River's lying cheating boyfriend got what was coming to him, in her opinion.

"He's always sorry," Harley countered. "But that won't stop him from doing something else even worse next time." Carol sat quietly, trying to decide on the right thing to say. But Harley wasn't interested in waiting to be comforted or coddled. She pointed Carol towards the door. "I'm not gonna call the cops," she promised. "Not unless he does some bullshit."

Carol nodded, squeezing Harley's slim shoulder one more time before she stood up and left the girl alone with her thoughts. When she returned to the main living area of the apartment, Merle had moved from the table to the couch. Wren was tucked in to his side, chatting away to him about school while he flipped through the channels on the television. Sophia was sitting a little further away from him, eyeing the man with equal parts suspicion and curiosity. It was the same way Carol herself was eyeing the man. Just from his appearance alone, it was obvious that Merle had lived a rough life. He looked a decade older than his younger brother, if not more. And Carol knew they weren't that far apart in age. She wasn't sure what to make of him. But she had to admit, she felt safer with him taking up space on their couch than she would if she was alone in the apartment with the girls and no idea if Ed was coming back or not.

The apartment was cramped even before Merle showed up. There wasn't any space for all of them to sleep or even sit down to eat. So after a brief discussion, Merle took River with him back to whatever rathole hotel he was staying at. And Daryl was planning to stay the night at the apartment with Carol and his nieces. Having Merle gone eased up some of the tension between him and Harley. And with him gone and Daryl there, Carol was able to call the police and file a report about the interaction she had with her soon to be ex-husband. The officers seemed generally unconcerned with the situation. And the extent of their detective work was to jot down a few notes on a pad of paper and tell Carol to call them if her ex came back. It was the same typical bullshit she'd gotten from the police over the years. It was one of the reasons why it took her so long to leave her abusive marriage. If Daryl wasn't around, there was no doubt in her mind that Ed would be dragging her out to his car by now. And this time she'd get more than a broken arm.

"Do you mind if I put the tv on?," Carol asked. "I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway…"

Daryl shrugged, giving her a noncommittal grunt. Despite the intimacy they shared earlier, everything seemed normal between them. The awkward tension didn't set in until after all the girls disappeared into their rooms. Once they were alone, Daryl began speaking to her only in grumbles and soft snorts of air. At first, Carol was concerned that he'd come to regret what happened that afternoon. But when she lowered herself back down onto the pull out sofa bed, he shifted his body closer to hers. They were sitting up, leaning against the back of the couch with their legs stretched out onto the thin roll away mattress. Daryl wrapped his arm around her shoulders. But it wasn't until she felt the stiff press of his body that she realized why he wasn't saying much. It wasn't because he changed his mind about his feelings for her. It was because he was nervous.

Carol smiled as she leaned into him, resting her hand on his thigh. She could still remember the firm boundaries she set for herself earlier. She didn't want things to go any further between her and Daryl until she was sure he was done with whatever illegal activities he and his brother were up to. But now, feeling safe in his arms, his extracurricular activities were starting to seem like less and less of a concern. In fact, she was suddenly convinced they could work all that out later.

Daryl turned, pressing a kiss into her hair as he tightened his hold on her. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her ear. But before the embrace could turn into anything more substantial, they were interrupted by the sound of movement in the short hallway that led to the girls' bedrooms.

"Mom," Sophia whispered, lingering against the wall at the end of the hall. "I'm scared." Not only was she scared of her father. She was also scared to be out of her room. If her father caught her out of bed after he sent her there, even to use the bathroom, he'd beat her. Even after they moved into River's apartment, Sophia wet her bed a few times because she was too afraid to get up.

"It's okay," Carol promised, encouraging her daughter to move forward towards the pull out sofa bed. "Everything's going to be okay."

Sophia lowered herself down onto the edge of the bed, leaning into her mother when Carol pulled her in for a hug. When she leaned back, her eyes flicked towards Daryl. "You're going to stay here, right?," she asked. He nodded.

"I ain't goin' nowhere," he assured her.

The look of relief on Sophia's face was palpable. Carol felt a strange pull in her chest. She wished she could be the one that gave her daughter that sense of safety and security. That was her job. She was the mother. But those feelings of guilt were tempered by the warmth that filled her when Sophia leaned across her to hug Daryl. She was grateful to him in a way she'd be hard pressed to explain. And she found the whole situation sad in a way, that a man who had no biological ties to her daughter was better to her than her own father.

"Will you tuck me back into bed?," Sophia asked. Carol parted her lips to agree. But before she could answer, she realized her daughter wasn't talking to her. Daryl was always a man of few words. But he nodded his head affirmatively and slid off the bed. Carol watched him walk down the hall with Sophia clinging to his hand. And then she listened to their quiet voices as he checked under the bed, in the closet, and in the dirty laundry basket for monsters both real and imagined. When he was finished, he clicked the bedroom door shut and padded silently back down the hall.

"She's a good kid," he observed, his voice barely above a whisper. "The shit her dad did… it didn't make her mean." It didn't take Carol long to catch the implication of his words.

"Like your brother?," she asked. Daryl hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Merle always took the worst of it."

The words might have been taken as an excuse for his brother's behavior. But Carol could tell he didn't mean them that way. Daryl was simply stating a fact. It didn't surprise her to find out that Daryl's father was abusive. River had alluded to it many times. But it did surprise her that he was willing to admit it. She didn't like talking about what her ex did to her. And she could only guess how much more uncomfortable that topic might be for a man like Daryl.

Carol reached over, combing her fingers through his short crop of hair. He leaned into her touch, enjoying the gentle tug at the roots of his hair. Like he had earlier, when Daryl reached for her it was in a quick rough movement. Almost like he had to act on his desires before he lost his nerve. But this time it didn't catch her as off guard as it had the first time.

His arms snaked around her waist. And he crushed her against him as they kissed. He slid his body down further onto the bed, pausing his assault on her mouth long enough to pull the blankets over them. They were in the living room with her daughter and his nieces down the hall. It wasn't the ideal situation for their first time together. Carol would have preferred a little more guarantee of privacy. But like all things in life, sometimes the best ones happened when they weren't planned. And she was quite certain that they weren't the first two people to get busy on the rollaway couch with the kids sleeping down the hall.

When Daryl tugged at the waistband of her cotton pajama shorts, she eagerly wriggled them down over her hips. Her shirt went next, followed by his pants. He left his shirt for last, pulling it off without uncovering them. His skin felt warm and soft compared to the hard muscles she could feel tensing and flexing underneath it. The pads of his fingers were rough and calloused. She gasped into his mouth when he slipped them between her thighs. There was a moment of friction against her clit. And then he entered her. He slid one finger in, adding the second as soon as he felt how slick her insides were.

He was as demanding with his fingers as he was with his lips, entering her in hard fast thrusts. The tiny bite of pain added to her pleasure. But before she could come undone he rolled on top of her, settling his hips between her thighs. There was no time for second thoughts or regrets. The moment he withdrew his fingers, he replaced them with his dick. He only got part of the way in on his first thrust. Pulling out, he moved his hands down, using them to spread her thighs as far apart as they would go. Then he pushed back in, thrusting until he was fully buried inside her tight slit. Another gasping cry escaped her before she buried her face in his neck to muffle the noise.

As he moved, she felt the heat building inside her. Carol dug her fingertips into his back. When she came, she bit her lip so hard she would realize later that she drew blood trying to keep herself from crying out. She couldn't remember the last time she had an orgasm that wasn't self induced. The pleasure rolled over her in heated waves. Just when she thought it was over, Daryl found his release. The feel of him spasming inside her tipped her over the edge again. And this time she came so hard that for a moment she was lost to it.

When the passion was spent, Daryl clutched her against his chest possessively. She wasn't used to being held after sex. And certainly not so tight. But it didn't bother her. On the contrary, she liked the feeling of being crushed against his chest. His breath ghosted against her ear. And then she heard him whisper into it.

"Won't let nothin' bad happen to you."