Unbreakable threads

Chapter one Hundred and Twenty Two: Journey to Hilltop.

"C'mon, sit over here," Daryl grunted, motioning to the seat next to him.

Alyssa smirked and shook her head. "I think I'll stick with the holy guy. He's got better jokes," she quipped, nudging Jesus, who chuckled softly.

Daryl's irritation was clear. His expression darkened, and he muttered under his breath, "Holy, huh? I'll show you how holy he is in a damn second."

The tension in the RV became palpable. Maggie glanced at Glen, her eyebrows raised, while Glen stifled another laugh. Jesus remained calm, smiling faintly but avoiding eye contact with Daryl.

Abraham, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned forward with a knowing grin. "Alright, alright, lover boy, no need to blow a gasket. Save it for the road. Or the next holy pilgrimage."

Daryl shot him a glare, but Abraham just smirked wider.

Daryl kept glancing at Jesus, who was chatting casually with Alyssa, making her laugh every so often. The sight of her grinning at Jesus's comments, leaning toward him like they were lifelong friends, was driving Daryl insane. His jaw was clenched so tight it felt like his teeth might crack. His fingers tapped anxiously on his knee, itching to say or do something, but he held back.

Abraham, sitting nearby, watched the whole thing unfold with an amused smirk. It didn't take much for him to figure out what was going on. Daryl's death glare, the constant glances toward Alyssa and Jesus, the tension rolling off him like a heatwave—it all screamed jealousy.

Finally, Abraham leaned over toward Daryl, his voice low enough for only Daryl to hear. "You and the firecracker got somethin' goin' on, Dixon?"

Daryl froze for a second before bristling, his head snapping toward Abraham. "Ain't nothin' like that," he muttered, his tone defensive. His eyes darted back to Alyssa and Jesus, who were obliviously engaged in their conversation.

Abraham raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Coulda fooled me," he said, sitting back in his seat. "You're watchin' her like she's about to run off with him. Don't exactly scream 'nothin' to me.'"

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, trying to brush it off. "Mind your own business," he growled, avoiding eye contact.

Abraham just smirked, leaning closer again. "Oh, I am mindin' it, Dixon. I just happen to see things real clear. That girl? She's somethin' else. Hell, she's one of the toughest people I know, and I respect the hell outta her. So, if you're gonna act like a possessive puppy, at least own up to it."

Daryl scowled, his face flushing slightly. "Ain't like that," he repeated, but the hesitation in his voice told Abraham otherwise.

"Sure," Abraham said, leaning back with a knowing grin. "Just sayin', you might wanna relax a bit before you pop a blood vessel. 'Cause trust me, if she catches wind of you actin' all territorial, she's liable to knock you upside the head."

Daryl grunted, clearly irritated but unwilling to admit anything. Abraham, however, was satisfied. He'd pushed enough buttons for now and left Daryl to stew in his thoughts while Alyssa and Jesus continued their easy banter.

But Abraham couldn't help himself, muttering one last comment under his breath, just loud enough for Daryl to hear. "Better not let the holy man steal your girl, Dixon."

Daryl's glare could've melted steel.

Alyssa caught the tail end of Abraham's comment and turned her attention to him, snorting loudly. "Don't think Jesus is in that lane," she said, smirking as she nudged Jesus playfully with her elbow.

Jesus raised an eyebrow at her but didn't say anything, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn't need to confirm or deny anything; the way he carried himself already gave Alyssa a strong feeling she was right.