ROBBY IS NOT EVIL!!!!! THE REASON ROBBY IS LIKE THAT IN THIS SEASON IS BECAUSE OF BURNOUT!!!!! EMPATHY IS A MUSCLE THAT CAN GET WORN OUT!!!! THIS IS A COMMON ISSUE AMONG PEOPLE PROVIDING CARE!!!!!
— Chapter summary: With nerves and excitement all over you, you get ready to meet Joel at 175 N Jean Street. wc: 15.7k
A/N: Alright, after a month, here’s an update. I hope you enjoy it. I stayed up all night editing so I could post it today since I’m leaving for vacation tomorrow, and I really wanted to get this up before I go <3 Last night I said I’d post this “tonight,” and technically I haven’t slept yet… so it’s still “tonight,” okay??? Dooooon’t worry, it’s not like I stayed up just editing the chapter, I’ve had trouble sleeping for years (sad) but here it is (happy). Thank you so much for all your comments, and I’m sorry for leaving this story hanging this past month <3 love you so much!!! #teamsnow. In case you want to support me, buy me a ko-fi 🤍
Your house, evening.
You glanced at the clock on your kitchen wall and caught your lower lip between your teeth. 3:23. You should be out the door in sixty seconds. Picking up River would take ten minutes on foot, maybe less, and getting to the house on Jean Street… well. You weren’t entirely sure. You’d been there once with Maria when you stopped by the office, and you didn't remembered enough to fake confidence about it.
You pivoted, grabbed the plastic container where you’d carefully lined up thick slices of the carrot loaf you’d baked earlier (yes, with walnuts and all) and slipped it into your bag. Then, you added a thermos with enough coffee for you and Joel.
You couldn’t explain it. The way you were looking forward to seeing him, actually looking forward to it, sat under your ribs and made your skin feel too tight.
What would you even talk about? How would this go? Would you just show up and stand there, staring at each other until one of you cracked and said something first?
You were up early that morning, heading to the greenhouse to help Zach with the vegetables. Plenty was ready to harvest but he wouldn’t let you crouch, lift, or so much as bend your ankle the wrong way. Not even a little.
You’d started to suspect people around here had a flair for dramatics when it came to injuries. Either that, or you were criminally underestimating your own.
“Hey, you wanna come by my place this afternoon?” Zach had asked a few hours earlier, wiping his hands with a damp rag. “Got that DVD player Isa gave me workin’ again. Figured I’d see if my movies still play or if they’re just scratched-up dump.”
“What time?”
“’Bout five?”
You pressed your lips together. “Um. I’m not sure I can. Maria asked me to go with her to check something out on Jean Street.” The lie came easy. There was no universe in which Zach would casually verify that with Maria or anyone in her orbit.
“Oh. Well,” he shrugged one shoulder, “If you’re free later, I’ll be home. Though I’m warnin’ you now, odds are none of those movies’ll even run.”
“Don’t be so pessimist,” you nudged his shoulder lightly.
Zach laughed and guilt pricked at you harder than you expected. It was such a harmless lie, barely a lie at all.
But what were you supposed to say? No, can’t make it. I’m heading over to this house on Jean Street and there’s a strong chance something happens with Joel, sorryyyy.
Yeah. Absolutely not.
It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Zach. You did. He wouldn’t breathe a word, and honestly, he’d probably lean in with a wide grin and demand every little detail. But this, whatever this was, hadn’t even taken shape yet. It felt like barely something, purely hypothetical. And selfishly, you liked having it tucked away, just yours for now.
After the greenhouse, you went home and took a cool shower, staying under the rain longer than usual. You used everything; soaps, lotions and the natural scrubs Zach insisted on gifting you in bulk.
Being friends with him came with perks; namely, a never ending supply of ridiculously good smelling organic products. Your bathroom constantly smelled like a botanical garden thanks to him.
In your closet, the clothes Isabella had given you rested in perfect order, neatly folded and carefully hung. From there, you picked a fitted white blouse made of a soft lightweight fabric. The front gathered gently into a subtle neckline, fastened all the way down with a row of pearly buttons. The sleeves were short and loose, slightly puffed, with elastic at the ends.
You skipped a bra; none of the ones you owned matched, and certainly none were delicate enough to stay invisible beneath the thin fabric. Besides, the neckline was similar to the dress you’d worn to the dance, structured enough to keep everything in place without much fuss.
You pulled on a pair of straight leg blue jeans and your cowboy boots (the safest bet in your arsenal) then gave yourself a once over in the mirror.
Pretty nice, right?
By then your hair was halfway dry, so you styled it as best you could with your fingers and a quick brush-through before heading downstairs to the kitchen.
Half an hour later, here you were.
You slipped the plastic container into a basket (the one you usually used for loose-leaf tea bags) then arranged everything with care; the thermos, two porcelain cups. You adjusted them until nothing clinked, then closed the lid.
Off you went to get River.
Jackson stables. Fifteen minutes later.
River was so thrilled to see you. He was nudging his head into your chest and demanding affection as your hands slid along his face. Such a good boy, he surely missed you. At this hour, Erin was usually around, but today, it was Fabrizio instead.
“He’s a real fine horse, ain’t he?” he said, glancing at you while brushing down Floyd.
You led River out of his stall, tugging gently on the lead rope.
“Yeah. He’s happy. He already knows we’re heading out.”
“How’s that ankle holdin’ up?” Fabrizio straightened. “You sure you should be ridin’?”
“I can walk just fine,” you said. “It aches a little when I put weight on it, but it’s way better than before. Honestly, the hardest part will be getting myself up there.”
You eyed River’s back.
He laughed. “C’mon. I got you.”
Fabrizio held out his hand and you shifted carefully, placing all your weight on your good foot. You set it in the stirrup, grabbed hold, and with his help, pushed yourself up and swung onto River’s back.
“Thank you,” you smiled, stroking River’s neck while Fabrizio crouched to retrieve the basket you’d left on the ground minutes earlier.
“Madam,” he said, hooking it onto the saddle and giving River an affectionate pat along the neck.
You smiled again, noticing the dimple that carved into his cheek.
Fabrizio really was a nice man. Not just physically (though, yes) but there was a warmth about him that drew people in without much effort. His eyes carried such a nice calmness and you couldn’t help noticing the way they crinkled at the corners whenever he smiled.
“Havin’ yourself a picnic?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
You nodded. “Yeah. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Sure is. And whatever you’ve got in there smells mighty good, too.”
“It’s carrot cake. Want some?”
Fabrizio’s mouth curved to the side. “You serious?”
You nodded again and leaned down to open the basket. Carefully, you lifted the container's lid.
“My hands’re dirty,” he said, a flicker of shyness slipping into his voice.
“Oh, that’s fine. Hang on,” you grabbed one of the clean cloth napkins from inside the basket and used it to pick up a slice, wrapping it before offering it to him.
“Thank you. I’ll give you my full verdict later,” he said, bringing the napkin to his nose. “But right now I can tell you it smells real good.”
You smiled, murmuring a soft “thank you,” then sealed the container and closed the basket.
“I’ll see you later?” he asked, stepping back to give you room.
“Sure. See you.”
You gave River the cue, and he started forward at an easy walk.
Somewhere in Jackson, twenty minutes later
The walk to meet Joel was easy on the eyes and even easier on the ears, mostly because it was dead silent. You had the place to yourself since the neighborhood was still a work in progress; the skeletons of the houses looked sturdy enough but the insides were a mess of busted pipes and peeling paint. You’d scouted similar renovations with Joel in another part of Jackson months ago, but this particular corner of the woods was new territory.
With the sun beating down, your hat was doing all the heavy work. River, meanwhile, was clearly on island time. He was taking every single second to soak it in, moving at a leisurely crawl that you didn't have the heart to interrupt. Besides, it wasn't like you were punching a clock, right?
The closer you got to the address Joel gave you, the more your stomach felt like a cage full of hyperactive crazy butterflies. Every time the street numbers ticked up, a shaky breath escaped before you could catch it. To keep your head on straight, you focused on the scenery, thinking about how these houses were actually so nice and charming and how the gardens would look if someone just gave them a little bit of attention. Jackson was already a stunner, and this was a massive upgrade from the damp, dark and depressing holes you’d spent years surviving in.
Truth be told, this life still felt like a bit of a prank. A bed on your own? Sheets that didn't smell like a campfire? A pillow that wasn't a rolled up jacket? It was almost too much. Your room was yours, the slippers on the rug, the robe, the soft pajamas, they were all strictly for you. No other people, no chaos. For the first time, you could actually exist at your own speed; spending hours doing absolutely nothing, nursing three cups of tea in a row, and enjoying a peace that no one was coming to kick down.
You exhaled as you turned the corner, spotting the house about two minutes ahead. And there, parked out front, the blue truck.
With a gentle nudge, you finally convinced River to pick up the pace.
One of the windows stood open, and inside, a silhouette moved back and forth, gesturing toward the walls and then higher up near the ceiling. You narrowed your eyes, trying to make sure it was Joel... but just then, the front door opened and he stepped out. The single silhouette inside split into two.
There were more people there.
“Hey,” Joel said, walking toward you. His mouth tightened slightly. “I’m sorry. Tommy and a couple of the guys showed up outta nowhere. Sounds like Erin’s tied up with the other thing, so they figured they’d move this along. Last minute. I didn’t know.”
“What?” You frowned, already attempting to dismount.
Joel didn't hesitate; he closed the distance quickly and, without warning, hooked his hands around your waist. He hoisted you down like it was the most natural thing in the world, so effortless as breathing. And the second your boots hit the dirt, the lingering ghost of his grip sent a fresh wave of static through your nerves.
“I’m afraid we ain’t alone,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “Gonna have to be another time.”
“Oh… I mean, that’s fine. When?” You tried not to let the disappointment leak into your voice.
Joel dragged his tongue slowly along the inside of his lower lip, thinking. “Well, I don’t rightly know. Now that we’re actually gettin’ into the real work, we’ll probably be here a couple more hours.”
You frowned, complaining silently to yourself.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t know this was gonna happen,” he said, stepping a little closer. One hand rested on his hip, and it was frankly unfair how good he looked standing there like that.
Blue jeans. A lightweight black button down, three buttons undone at the top, revealing a dark gray cotton T-shirt underneath. His hair looked soft and so, so nice.
“It’s okay,” you said, forcing an easy shrug. “Really. We can just do this another time.”
He nodded and parted his lips to answer—
“Hey, Snow.”
Tommy’s voice interrupted whatever Joel was about to say as he appeared from behind him, walking toward you with grin. “What’re you doin’ out here? Good to see you.”
You smiled, genuinely this time. “Just out for a ride. This area’s pretty quiet.”
“It sure is,” Tommy glanced at Joel for a beat, then back at you. “How’s that ankle holdin’ up?”
“Much better, actually.”
He nodded, lips pressing together briefly. “By the way, we handled the situation with Trevor, alright? Won’t be happenin’ again. He won’t be comin’ near you. Though he did say he’d like to apologize, if you’re willin’ to hear it.”
“That ain’t gonna happen,” Joel cut in.
You blinked, then cleared your throat softly.
“Um, I don’t mind if he apologizes,” you said, looking from Joel to Tommy. “But thank you. For keeping him away.”
“It’s nothin’,” Tommy shook his head. “I’m real sorry, though. We try to keep things a certain way around here, but you can’t rein everybody in. There’s always gonna be a few questionable folks.”
“Don’t worry about it, Tommy. Really. Thank you.”
He nodded once. “Alright then. I’ll head back inside. You have a good afternoon.”
“You too.”
Tommy gave you one last smile, then shot Joel a look that lingered a second too long before he turned and went back into the house, closing the door behind him.
And just like that, it was quiet again.
You and Joel stood there, saying nothing, just looking at each other for a couple of seconds.
“Listen,” Joel said finally, his patient eyes tracing over your face. “If you ain’t got plans later… I’d like to see you. I don’t know when we’ll finish up here, but I can come get you. Are you free tonight?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll take River back now and probably head over to Zach’s later. But I’ll be home after dinner, probably.”
“Alright,” Joel nodded. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”
You turned without adding much else, trying to mask the sudden dip in your mood as you got ready to mount River again. These things happened. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.
What you didn’t like (at all) was realizing just how much you’d been looking forward to this afternoon. Enough to feel this thrown off when it unraveled.
“Need a hand?”
Joel stepped closer, his hands already moving toward you. But before he could grab your waist or lift you outright, you reached for him first. Your hand settled over his, and that’s how he helped you up; steadying you rather than sweeping you off your feet.
He gave your boot a light tap. “I’ll come find you later, alright?”
“Yeah. See you,” you said with a small smile, then nudged River gently, signaling him to move.
River stepped forward, carrying you away while Joel stayed behind; watching, you were almost sure.
Zach's house, an hour later
"Oh, it's actually working! It's working!" Zach beamed, a massive grin plastered across his face as he pointed frantically at the old TV in his living room.
The screen flickered to life bleeding bright and saturated colors that made your eyes widen in pure nostalgic joy.
To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar was a movie you’d only seen once, decades ago, when you were little and spent an afternoon curled up beside your mom. You barely remembered the details, just the dusty little town and that final scene.
Zach laughed, sinking back into the cushions of the sofa, next to you.
"I'm losing my mind. You have any idea how much we can watch now, Snowy?" He nudged your arm lightly. “You gotta convince Joel to get us more movies.”
You laughed. “What? Why him? Erin’s got contacts too.”
“Yeah, but I’ve seen what he got Isa. They’ve got stacks of tapes and videos. I’m sure Erin’s connections are solid,” he said, waving a hand, “but Joel’s gotta have some good ones too. C’mon. Ask him.”
You smiled and rolled your eyes, curling up beside him as the movie began. The two of you watched, completely absorbed, while a strange melancholy settled over you; nostalgia for a time you hadn’t really lived through.
1995. You’d been too little to remember it properly, and yet somehow you’d been there.
Patrick Swayze looked breathtaking as Vida Boheme, and he very quickly became your favorite. Though you had to admit, Chi Chi and Noxeema were just as sweet and hilarious in their own ways.
At some point, you blinked and realized the actress playing Carol Ann was the very same Betty Rizzo from Grease. A detail your much younger brain hadn’t clocked back then, mostly because you hadn’t even seen Grease yet.
Earlier, after seeing Joel, you brought River back to the stables. Fabrizio was gone, but he left everything tidy and quiet. You said your goodbyes to the horses, running a hand along River’s neck, and figured Zach was probably home by now, either celebrating his technological triumph or aggressively negotiating with the DVD player.
You headed to his place, fully aware you didn’t want to go back home just yet and, if you were being honest, you wanted Zach’s company.
He opened the door with a grin. “So? What happened with Maria?”
“Tommy was there. They didn’t need us,” you said, technically telling the truth.
“Works out great for me.”
This wasn’t a consolation prize. It wasn’t some backup plan. You made sure to repeat that to yourself so the guilt that crept in during the first few minutes wouldn’t take root.
Once To Wong Foo ended and the credits rolled, Zach leaned forward. “Alright. What do we watch next? Just think about it, baby, think about the possibilities. Isa’s got a VCR too, so we could get our hands on a whole lot more.”
You gasped, pressing both hands to your cheeks. “I want to see Bridget Jones's Diary. And Notting Hill. And honestly? Everything. Even the bad ones.”
“Know what I’d really like to watch?” Zach asked, a slightly unhinged glint in his eyes that made you laugh immediately.
“What?”
“Friends.”
“Oh,” you blinked. “I don’t remember much of that.”
“Me neither,” he dropped down beside you. “But my older sister used to watch it all the time. I kinda wanna see it now that I’m grown.”
“Me too. And Dawson's Creek!”
“ER!”
“Full House!”
“Boy Meets World!”
“Oh, and all the Halloween movies!”
Zach burst out laughing. “You tryna make me spiral?”
“What are you talking about?” You nudged his shoulder. “There’s nothing better than watching people whose lives are worse than ours. It’s comforting, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know how healthy that logic is, darlin’,” he said, tilting his head. “But I support you anyway.”
You laughed, stretching your legs out in front of you. The clock above the fireplace read 7:34 p.m.
You turned toward him. “I’m starving.”
“Me too,” Zach grinned. “If you don’t mind waitin’ for me to shower, we can head to the dining hall.”
“Sure.”
“In the meantime, entertain yourself with this.” He stood with a dramatic groan and shuffled over to the TV, where the movie had stopped a few minutes ago. He hit play again. “That work for you?”
You laughed. “Absolutely. Go, go shower!” You waved him out of the way so he’d stop blocking the screen.
Jackson Dining Hall, thirty minutes later
The dining hall was packed when you arrived, though most people were just grabbing their rations to go. Still, that didn't do much to clear the tables. The place was buzzing with chatter and the air felt really warm despite the open windows and the front door being propped wide.
In the distance, you spotted Tommy sitting with Maria and Benji and instinctively, almost against your will, you scanned the room for Joel.
He wasn’t there.
You and Zach managed to snag a corner spot by a window after picking up your plates, falling into an intense and fun conversation about what other treasures you could dream of finding. The list was long, ranging from "maybe" to "nope, no." Movies, books, what else? Honestly, you had no clue how Joel or Erin pulled off half their hauls. Who exactly were they talking to? How did those people get their hands on this stuff? Was it a straight trade, or did it involve the kind of weird... favors? You’d crossed paths with plenty of dangerous types in your time, people who’d traffic anything for a price, but you’d never been brave enough to ask for the details.
A few minutes after you and Zach settled in, he aimed a soft kick at your shin and jerked his chin toward the door.
You turned.
Fabrizio. And of course he wasn’t alone. Clint walked beside him, and on the other side, Joel.
You watched the three of them step up to the serving window, waiting their turn. But you looked away before you could see what they were saying.
Your cheeks warmed and suddenly you found your mashed potatoes deeply fascinating, stirring them into a nervous swirl.
"Hey, Fabrizio!" Zach hollered out of nowhere, waving his hand high enough to catch the attention of basically everyone in the dining hall.
You kicked him lightly under the table. “Hey, what are you doing?”
Zach just grinned, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Calling him over, obviously. Don't look now, here they come."
"I thought you couldn't stand Fabrizio."
"Never said those words."
You stayed frozen for a second, shooting him a smirk.
The three of them approached balancing their trays loaded with food and plastic cups of water. Despite yourself, you looked up with a smile already in place.
Joel angled toward you, clearly aiming for the empty seat at your side. But seconds before he could reach it, Fabrizio stepped in first, setting his tray down in that very spot. Joel paused, just for a fraction of a second, before taking the seat beside him instead.
"How’s it going?" Zach asked, suddenly acting way too charming for his own good.
"Pretty great. You guys have quite the spread here," Clint said, flashing a grin. "Specially the greens, so thanks for that."
“Oh, well. Happy to be of service,” Zach said smoothly.
You glanced at Fabrizio, who offered you a warm smile while Clint and Zach dived into a deep dive about carrots and lettuce. Just next to him, Joel remained a silent statue.
"By the way, that carrot cake you made was delicious," Fabrizio said, leaning in just a fraction.
"Really? You liked it?"
“Yeah, very much,” he nodded. “I like walnuts. And I think Clint’s right, the vegetables here are real good. Carrots especially. But you get full credit for bakin’ that.”
You smiled.
Joel cleared his throat.
“Well, thank you. I’m glad you liked it.”
“I was thinkin’,” Fabrizio went on, leaning in just a touch, “since I don’t know Jackson all that well yet… maybe you could show me around sometime? The places you like.”
Zach kicked you under the table again without even looking at you, still deep in conversation with Clint. You kicked him back.
“I mean, no pressure,” Fabrizio added quickly. “Just thought it’d be nice to get to know the town better.”
“Of course,” you smiled. “I’d love to.”
Your stomach twisted with too many things at once; Fabrizio, Joel sitting right beside him, Zach hearing every word and still blissfully unaware of the situation unfolding beneath the surface.
Fabrizio grinned. “Great. Just tell me when you’re free.”
"If y'all excuse me. Enjoy your meal," Joel interrupted. He pushed back from the table and snatched up his tray.
"You're headin' out already, Miller?" Clint asked, surprised.
"Been a long day," Joel replied, his gaze fixed anywhere but on you. And without another word, he turned and walked away.
Fabrizio watched him walk away for a beat before turning his focus back to you. He flashed a grin. "And please, keep that carrot cake coming."
You forced a smile, fighting every instinct that told you to bolt after Joel right then and there.
"You got it," you said, glancing over at Zach. He was wearing a massive smirk, his eyes way too knowing and way too still.
Thirty minutes later
"See you at the greenhouse tomorrow?" Zach called out once you’d finally made it out of the dining hall.
"Of course! I’ll be there!" you shouted back, already putting some distance between you and heading the opposite way.
Zach was off to the Tipsy Bison to meet up with Flo and had tried to drag you along after dinner. But honestly, the day had drained you. You just wanted to get home and, secretly, see if Joel might show up. If he didn't, fine. You’d just crawl into bed and sleep. It would be a little bit of a restless sleep, sure, but sleep nonetheless.
Fabrizio and Clint had cleared out a while ago, so you just gave Zach a final wave. And once he was out of sight, you turned around. Despite what your body was screaming at you to do, you took the long way home.
There were plenty of people out on the street; the night was beautiful. Kids darted around with water guns, shrieking as they chased one another, while their parents stood off to the side chatting and passing time. Others walked past you in small groups, likely heading toward the dining hall or the Tipsy Bison.
Isabella and Hugh drifted into your thoughts. You should visit them tomorrow. Maybe invite them over for dinner. It had been a long time since the three of you spent real time together, and you missed it, really missed them. Those evenings always pulled you back to your first days here, when your body was still healing and most of your time was spent reading, resting and rebuilding yourself quietly.
You wanted to cook for them. The best you could manage with what the town offered without leaning too heavily on privilege. You’d talk to Florence about it. She was always going on about the kitchen, about recipes she half remembered from her mother’s old cookbook. Between the two of you, you could figure out something special.
You kept your eyes on the ground, kicking a stray pebble across the street. You couldn't wait to finally kick off your boots and breathe.
"Hey. Snow."
You pulled up short and glanced back.
Joel stepped out of a building that looked closed from the outside, though a light glowed behind the door he’d just pushed through. A brown paper bag rested in his hand.
You didn’t say anything, just watched him walk toward you.
“Where you headed?” he asked.
"Home. You?" Your eyes drifted down to the bag in his grip.
"Same."
You nodded, pressing your lips together in a tight line.
A beat.
Joel cleared his throat. "So, you're doin' guided tours of Jackson now?"
You let out a soft huff of a laugh. “By request only.”
He gave a slow nod. "Think you know the town well enough for that?"
"More every day. Today, for instance, I got a good look at the houses over on Jean Street."
A ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth, though you could tell he was trying his damnedest to stay stoic. "That area ain't exactly open for sightseeing."
“Oh?” You tilted your head. “I went just fine today.”
"That’s different," he said, lifting his chin, "but I’m sure you’ll find another way to keep Fabrizio happy. Like with that carrot cake."
You smiled. “I just offered him a piece. It was for you. Well, for us.”
Joel went very still. “So you gave him my carrot cake?”
“Just a little.”
He pressed his lips together. "And there ain't any left for me?"
“I can bake more,” you said, tilting your head.
A quiet breath left his nose as he glanced off to the side, jaw tightening just enough for you to notice.
“Okay,” he said at last, looking back at you after a few seconds. “And right now… you got somewhere to be?”
“No. You?”
He shook his head.
“Alright,” you nodded once. “I’d like to see your house. If that’s okay.”
A crooked smile appeared. “My house?”
“Yes. The one time I went over, you didn’t let me inside, remember? And you’ve been to mine more than once. Seems fair.”
He considered that, then nodded slowly. “Alright. That’s fair... C’mon.”
Joel started walking without another word. It took you only a second to fall into step beside him.
And curiously, for the rest of the walk, neither of you said a thing.
Joel's house, ten minutes later
As you climbed the steps to Joel’s porch, you couldn't shake the feeling of something shifting deep in your chest.
Was this actually happening?
He reached out, his hand wrapping around the doorknob, and swung the door open a second later. You watched him from behind in total silence, your breath hitching as you waited for the reveal. He stepped to the side, gesturing for you to head in first.
Joel’s place was way bigger than you’d imagined. To your left, just inside the entrance, there was a small table with a lamp and a framed painting of a horse. Beside it, an archway opened directly into the dining room.
It was spacious, with several windows lining the walls around a sturdy wooden table set with four chairs, one at each end and one along each side. A fireplace stood opposite the table, and above it hung a painting of mountain landscapes. Near one end of the table was a cabinet displaying framed photographs and a clock on top, and next to it, a smaller piece of furniture arranged neatly with different bottles of liquor.
Joel led the way past the table and into the kitchen, giving you a sort of mini-tour as you trailed behind him. Your eyes were everywhere, soaking up the details with greedy interest: the pots sitting on the stove, a coffee maker, a blender, the glass cups and jars of spices and rice lined up in the pantry.
He set the brown paper bag down and started unpacking it with deliberate care.
"Is that coffee?" You stepped in closer, eyeing the cans he was lining up on the counter. There were three in total.
"Yeah. Made a pretty solid trade," he said, catching your eye with a ghost of a smirk.
"I had no idea people were even in that building. It always looks abandoned."
"Nah, it’s just storage."
"Really? We’ve never been there, and I’ve never even heard of the place."
"Well, you have now," he said, tilting his head. "So keep it under your hat, alright?"
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re just gonna ask me like that? No incentive? Nothing to make it interesting?”
Joel studied you in silence for a moment. You could almost see the gears turning.
One eyebrow lifted. “Are you tryin’ to bribe me?”
You arched your brows, wearing your best look of mock innocence. "I would never dream of such a thing, Miller."
Joel huffed, rolling his eyes as a tired sigh escaped him. He reached for one of the cans and slid it across the marble countertop toward your hand.
"Oh, you really shouldn't have," you teased, picking up the tin and giving it a look over. After a second, your voice softened into something more sincere. "Thank you, Joel."
“It’s nothin’. One of those was for you anyway.”
"Oh, is that so?"
He gave a sharp nod, his brow furrowed in that way it always did when he was trying to be casual about something.
"Yeah. I know you like coffee. Figured you’d be runnin’ low soon. By the way, I actually do happen to like carrot cake."
You let your head fall back. "Alright, alright, I get the message. Thank you for the coffee, I promise I'll bake you a carrot cake all your own."
He pointed a finger at you, his expression stern but his eyes playful. "I’m holdin' you to that."
Joel took the cans and opened the pantry to tuck them away, so you took the opportunity to turn around and really scout the kitchen. Your eyes landed on the fridge, which was covered in sketches: one of the house and a portrait of Joel himself, signed by Ellie. There was also a photo of all of them having dinner together: Tommy, Maria, Jesse. You smiled when you saw it. Above it all, spelled out with letter magnets: LUV YOU.
“Your place is really nice,” you said. “You’re a very tidy man, I have to say.”
“Didn’t picture that?”
You turned to look at him; he was leaning back against the counter.
“It’s not that,” you said. “I just don’t think I ever managed to picture what your house would be like.”
“Does it live up to expectations?”
“Well, it’s quiet. I like the blue walls and the smell of wood.” You paused. “Is your workshop here, or do you have it outside?”
“No. It’s upstairs.”
You nodded, setting the coffee can down on the counter.
“Can I see it?”
Joel parted his lips slightly and, a little hesitant, pushed himself off the counter.
“Yeah. Of course,” he said. “Follow me.”
He led the way out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. You followed closely, taking each step with care and trying to place your weight as gently as possible. Joel noticed you lagging behind and immediately checked his pace, coming to a halt at the top of the landing to wait for you before moving on.
The upper floor was a perfect continuation of the rest of the house: blue walls paired with firm dark hardwood floors, all topped with a white ceiling and exposed cross beams. Rural landscapes hung along the hallway, and a rustic wooden sideboard with black iron hardware sat against the wall. On top of it sat an antique clock and a wooden sculpture that almost certainly came from his own hands.
Three doors faced you now, and Joel reached for the one right next to the sideboard. He stopped in front of it, hand settling on the knob. He pushed it open and stepped aside, jerking his chin for you to go on in.
You only peeked at first. The light inside was warm, spilling from a lamp perched on a wooden table pressed up against a window. Beyond the glass, the sky was sinking into night, blue becoming a dark bruised violet.. The curtains were drawn most of the way, just shy of closed.
On the left side of the table, a wooden and metal vise was built into the edge. Resting on the surface sat an unfinished horse; wood shavings curled around its base like fallen petals, scattered between small tools you didn’t recognize. At the center of the table lay a green cutting mat, and on top of it an open book filled with equestrian illustrations.
Horses were everywhere. In the book. On the shelf by the window. Propped against the glass; sketches, photographs, riders frozen mid gallop.
You stepped inside slowly and made a beeline for the table, stopping beside the little rolling stool parked in front of it.
On the left sat a wooden box packed with brushes, small jars of paint, glue, paint thinner and varnish. You dragged your fingers lightly over them, catching the scent of the materials, the same warm woody smell you’d always noticed on Joel. Now you knew where it came from.
To the side, four guitars hung neatly on the wall.
“You play?” you asked, caught so off guard that when you turned around, you didn’t realize he’d moved.
He was right there.
The sudden closeness snapped your mouth shut.
Joel had one hand braced on the table, the other hooked casually into his belt loop, and one boot crossed over the other. He looked so at ease, or more at ease than you anyway.
“Yeah,” he said, giving a small nod. His head tilted just slightly. “You?”
You shook your head. “No. Just piano. And I barely remember any of it.”
His brows lifted. “You play piano?”
“I used to take lessons when I was a kid,” your gaze dropped, fingertips brushing over the carved horse. “Started when I was… six? I think. Or seven. Kept at it till I was about twelve.”
Joel smiled. “That’s a good long while.”
You let out a soft huff. “Not really. And I’ve probably forgotten most of it by now.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Stuff like that don’t just up and leave you. Might be sittin’ quiet somewhere, but it’s still there. There’s a piano at the school. You see it?”
You nodded.
“You could give it a try,” he went on. “Might remember more than you think.”
“Maybe,” you smiled slowly, your eyes drifting back to him. “I like it in here.”
“Yeah?”
You nodded again. “It’s peaceful.”
Joel’s gaze shifted softly around the room. “Used to be Ellie’s room.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he dipped his chin. “Before she moved out to the garage. Didn’t much care for it sittin’ empty. Figured I’d turn it into a workshop. Make somethin’…” he reached out, brushing his fingers over the wooden horse you’d touched moments earlier, “I dunno.”
“Well, you create beautiful things, Joel. I saw a horse like this over at Tommy’s place, did you carve that one too?”
He nodded once.
“It’s gorgeous. Just like this one,” you lifted the unfinished horse carefully. It was still rough, barely shaped, waiting on sanding and polish, but even now, you could see what it would become.
“That one’s Ares.”
Your head snapped up, eyes locking onto his. A soft smile curved over your mouth.
“Seriously?”
Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Just started on him, but yeah. That’s him. See the notch in his ear?”
You leaned closer, studying the horse’s head; the curve of the ears, the hint of a mane taking shape.
“You’re right,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over the carved ear. “It’s Ares.”
His gaze was on you for a second longer than necessary.
“By the way,” he added, clearing his throat, “hope takin’ River down to Jean Street wasn’t too much trouble. Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” you shook your head, setting the figure back on the table before stepping away. Your lower back bumped lightly into the rolling stool, and you eased down onto it. “River and I needed the walk anyway.”
Joel smiled at that.
He took a step closer and leaned back against the table, bracing both hands on either side of him, palms flat against the wood.
“I’m sorry,” he went on, “Didn’t know Tommy was gonna be there. If I had, I would’ve given you a heads up. He swears it was last minute.”
“It’s okay. Really,” you shrugged lightly, “Is not like you could’ve seen that coming.”
Joel nodded and pressed his lips together. His mustache lifted the way it always did when he made that face, and you had to fight back a smile. You had the sudden ridiculous urge to reach out and squeeze his cheek.
A slow breath left his nose. His blink turned heavy.
“What?” you asked after a beat. “You already regretting this?”
His mouth parted slightly. “No. Ain’t that.”
“Then what?”
Without shifting his upper body, Joel stretched his boot forward and hooked it around the rung of your stool. With one careful pull, he rolled you toward him. The wheels glided softly across the floor until you were right there, close enough to feel the warmth coming off him.
The move caught you off guard, and a quiet laugh slipped out. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just thinkin’,” he murmured. “Today went sideways from how I had it in my head. Like I couldn’t quite get it right, no matter how I tried.”
“You think that was some kind of sign?” you teased gently. “Like maybe this isn’t meant to happen?”
Joel narrowed his eyes, a faint crease forming between his brows.
You smiled. “Really? Didn’t take you for the superstitious type.”
“I ain’t.” A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “Just got me thinkin’, is all. Figured this…” his eyes flicked between yours “... could get complicated.”
“Joel, it’s fine,” you murmured, reaching out to rest a hand against his chest. “We don’t have to do any of this if you’re having second thoughts.”
He drew a heavy breath, his eyes searching yours. There was a flicker of hesitation there, maybe something more knotted up and conflicted, but there anyway.
You eased off the stool, your hand sliding down his shirt until the contact broke.
“Maybe we should just leave it at that,” you said, taking a step back. “It’s alright.”
You gave a small nod, though your pulse was lying to you; you didn't want to walk away, you didn't want to leave it at that.
Feeling the sudden need for some air, you started to turn. “I should probably head out—”
“No.”
Joel’s hand shot out, catching your arm before you could put another inch between you. His grip tightened, reeling you back in until your chests were nearly flush. Your heart hammered against your ribs.
“Please stay,” he murmured, his hand sliding down from your elbow to your wrist, then into your hand. His thumb slowly traced lines inside your palm. “Don’t go.”
“You sure?”
He nodded.
You gave a soft hum. “How sure?”
His gaze drifted from your eyes to your mouth, lingering there long enough to make your breath turn shallow. For a second, you felt like prey; held in place by nothing but the weight of his attention.
“Just tell me what you want,” Joel said, lifting his blown-out pupils back to yours, “and I’ll give it to you.”
You bit your tongue, suppressing... something. A sound, a gesture, a sigh, you couldn't be sure. All you knew was that you had to hold back whatever was threatening to spill over. And as if gravity itself had demanded it, something warm dropped low in your stomach and settled deep inside you. Your legs felt weak.
His thumb grazed your palm once more, and you closed your fingers around it, squeezing. "Whatever I want?"
Joel nodded, his breathing growing measured and shaky.
Oh.
Okay.
"Kiss me," you requested.
He obeyed. His lips lowered to meet yours, and you rose slightly on your good foot to reach him.
It was so sweet, so soft. Joel’s kiss was delicate and careful while his hands migrated to your waist, pulling you against him, bringing you impossibly closer to his body as your own hands slid up his chest to bury themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck.
The taste of him made you moan, and instinctively your tongue sought more, searching for his, your patience fraying. And sensing your desperation, Joel slid one hand up to the nape of your neck, burying his fingers in your hair. He gave a tug, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss; the gesture sent a jolt of electricity straight from your spine to your toes.
One of your hands began to wander, already familiar with the path. Your fingers traced over the solid plane of his chest, dipped over the softness of his belly, and slipped beneath his leather belt. You gave a sharp tug, pulling him forward, and Joel let out a low groan against your mouth.
You pulled your lips from his; the wet, tacky sound of the break made your skin tingle.
“I wanna see you,” you murmured against his damp mouth. You shifted your hand lower and palmed him softly, “Let me see it.”
Joel exhaled a ragged breath before finally nodding. His hands released you and moved to his waist; his fingers found the buckle of his belt as you took a step back to get a better look. He unfastened it with trembling hands and eased the zipper of his jeans down, sending the nerves in your chest fluttering like a thousand frantic butterflies.
Your mouth went dry in an instant, but you didn't move a muscle. Joel was hard and thick, straining against the open fly of his jeans and the thin cotton of his boxers.
You stepped closer and rested your cheek against his chest. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against your ear, and the scent of him made you throb. Your hand found the bare skin of his stomach beneath his shirt, tracing the line of hair upward before sliding down, agonizingly slow, until you felt his rigid length beneath your palm.
Joel’s hand settled at the small of your back, sliding upward in a slow stroke. His thumb traced lazy circles there.
You tilted your head back to look at him, still pressed firmly against his chest. You watched his jaw reset, his teeth grinding together as you increased the pressure. A small triumphant smile tugged at your lips as you shifted your grip, finding the sensitive head of him through the fabric. You swiped your thumb over the crown, and he let out a jagged, broken sigh.
Hungry for more, your fingers hooked into the elastic waistband. You started to ease the cotton down, your mind torn between two sights: the undone look on Joel’s face or the first glimpse of him fully bared. You couldn't choose, so you watched his expression first; the way his eyes hooded with pure unadulterated need, until the heavy weight of his cock slumped against the side of your hand.
Your breath hitched, and your gaze finally dropped to take him in.
Holy fuck.
Your pupils blown wide as black moons as you took him in. Joel was big; far more daunting than he’d seemed through the barrier of his underwear or that fleeting glimpse back in the woods. He was long and thick, the girth of him rivaling your own wrist, with heavy veins mapping the silken heat of his skin. His head was bulbous, dark and crowning, already weeping a pearly bead of slick.
Your hand closed around him tentatively, testing the sheer weight and warmth of him. Joel let out a broken sigh that rattled in his chest.
Slowly, you began to curl your fingers tighter, stroking him with curiosity. You watched, mesmerized, as your grip squeezed and glided, traveling the length of him and slicking over the broad head. You kept the rhythm steady, mindful and intent, while your mouth flooded with heat at the sight of him undone in your palm.
“Shit,” Joel wheezed, his eyes snapping shut as he bit back a groan.
As you pulled away, you began to sink toward the floor, bracing your hands against his thighs and the sturdy edge of the table behind him. Joel’s eyes flew open, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you and his fingers threading through your hair as you settled into place.
As you adjusted, your injured foot caught against the floor, sending a sharp twinge through your ankle. You let out a tiny sharp hiss of pain.
“Easy there. You alright?” he asked, his voice suddenly strained with concern.
You nodded quickly. “I’m fine, don't worry about it.”
“We can take this to the bed if you want.”
You looked up and offered him a small, wicked smile. Your fingers closed around him once more. “In a minute.”
Joel let out a ragged sigh and braced himself, widening his stance and shifting his weight lower against the table to bring himself closer to you. He nodded, offering no further protest.
With one hand anchored firmly on the muscle of his thigh, you began to stroke him again. This time, you dialed up the pace, fueled by your own rising impatience. You watched with fascination as his head fell back; his jaw clamped shut, and the vulnerable lines of his throat were laid bare before you.
A small grin pulled at your lips as you leaned in, catching the tip of him with your tongue. Joel’s entire frame gave a sharp, involuntary spasm, and his blown out gaze snapped back to you instantly. You felt a silent surge of triumph at how quickly, how violently, you could command his focus.
Inside, nerves were blooming like wildfire, their heat prickling against your ribs. This was uncharted territory; this raw, jagged desire to let yourself be consumed by him was unlike anything you'd felt before. No past experience even brushed against the intensity of this moment, and you certainly had never felt such a desperate, clawing need to take a man into your mouth; to taste him, to feel him slide deep against your throat, to witness the exact moment his composure shattered.
There was something undeniably intoxicating about subduing a man like Joel this way. Seeing him yield to you, watching that iron-clad restraint begin to fray at the edges, was the most addictive thing you'd ever felt.
His hand brushed your temple as you guided him back to your mouth, taking him in again; deeper this time, though not too far. Just enough to feel the weight of him, the stretch of it, the fullness that made your pulse flutter in your throat.
Joel let out a breathy sigh, his eyes fluttering half shut. You began to ease back, your lips slick and grazing his length until you reached the very tip. When your gaze locked onto his, a small knowing smile tugged at your mouth. The sheer absurdity of the moment hit you: how on earth had the two of you ended up right here?
Joel seemed to be tracing the same thought. A faint smirk ghosted over his lips, and he ran his thumb along the arch of your eyebrow.
“Well,” he murmured, “who’d have thought there was a way to keep you quiet after all.”
“Hey,” you gave a playful mock-offended huff, giving the base of him a firm little squeeze. “I bet there’s a way to make you shut up, too.”
He clicked his tongue and opened his mouth to retort (no doubt something provocative) but you cut him off. Your hand started a steady rhythm, moving from the base to mid-shaft, while you rested his tip against your closed lips. You watched his pupils blown wide, a sharp flicker of heat crossing his eyes.
You opened your mouth, letting the head glide past your lips bit by bit, feeling the heavy solid weight of it against your tongue. Finally, when he brushed against the back of your throat, you began to suck him with a steady, relentless patience. It had been a long time, far too long, since you’d been with a man; long enough that you felt the need to refresh your memory. But your body didn't care for the lapse in time. It recognized Joel.
Blow him and make him shut his mouth, that was what your body told you.
Your hand moved up and down, squeezing with just enough force to draw a low curse from his throat as you worked your lips from the crown to the mid-shaft. Joel’s breathing grew ragged and tight; you knew he was holding it back, and you wanted to hear it; you wanted him to cave. But for a man like him, that kind of surrender was anything but common.
You ramped up the rhythm, balancing a firm grip with a certain careful touch and reached your other hand beneath the base where his weight lay unattended. You gave them a squeeze.
Joel let out a sharp gasp; a small victory for you. Uncovering his sensitive spots felt like gaining access to his secret vulnerabilities. For some reason, it never stopped feeling like a battlefield. You began to stroke him there, massaging that tender skin while he pressed against the back of your throat and your hand moved in time with the frantic thrum of your own heartbeat.
“Shit,” he hissed, his fingers tightening just a fraction in your hair. His gaze was fixed on you, dark and blown wide. “I ain’t gonna last much longer if you keep doin’ that.”
You didn’t stop. Joel’s brow furrowed and a deep, guttural moan tore from his throat before he finally tilted his head back. Your jaw was starting to ache slightly, and slick heat trailed down your lips and chin. You eased him out of your mouth with a wet sound, but your hand didn't miss a single beat.
“It’s okay, don’t hold back,” you told him, trying to shift your weight and squat more comfortably. But as you moved, a sharp twinge shot through your ankle; a low hiss of pain escaped your lips, and your free hand reached out to brace against his thigh for support.
With his breathing still heavy and jagged, Joel reached down and cupped both sides of your face. His palms were warm as he forced you to look up at him.
“C’mon, up,” he ordered.
If you were feeling a bit more stubborn, you might’ve told him no. But your knees were starting to ache, and you certainly weren't twenty anymore. So you stood up, dragging the back of your hand across your lips to wipe away the slickness.
Before you could even get a word out, Joel was already moving, guiding you forward with a firm hand.
His bedroom wasn’t far, just a few steps down the hall to the right. Joel led the way and swung the door open, gesturing for you to head in first. And the moment the door clicked shut behind you, your heart hammered against your ribs, louder than ever.
You took a moment to truly look around the room. For some reason, you’d always tried to picture where Joel rested his head at night. Did he have a big bed or a narrow one? Did sunlight pour in through wide windows, or was it the kind of space that stayed dim even at noon? A pile of pillows, just one, or none at all?
The walls were painted a deep petrol blue, moody against the dark sturdy wood of the trim and floors. The bed sat to your left, layered in gray and muted purple blankets, and a rug with geometric patterns was beneath it. On the other side, set in front of a window, stood a desk crowded with boxes and the skeletal frame of a wood project. You figured that must’ve been where he worked before moving everything into Ellie’s old room.
“You doin’ alright?” Joel’s voice rumbled from behind you; his calloused fingertips grazing your arm with a featherlight touch.
“Yeah,” you breathed, spinning to face him. You flattened a palm against the steady heavy heat of his chest and crowded into his space, forcing him to give ground.
Joel’s hand slid upward, his thumb hooking under your jaw to tilt your face up. He took your lips with a hunger that turned your knees to water, catching your soft jagged moan right in his mouth. You didn't let him lead; you shoved against him, driving him back step by step until the edge of the mattress caught him behind the knees.
A fleeting, frantic thought crossed your mind: did he claim the left side? The right? Or did he just take up the whole middle? It was a massive bed, but suddenly, it didn't feel big enough.
Joel sat back, shifting to get steady before he hooked his hands under your thighs and hauled you up onto his lap. Your mouth crashed back onto his, desperate and messy, while your hands scrambled over the planes of his chest and the thick swell of his biceps. You hated the denim and flannel, hated every stitch of fabric acting as a barrier between your skin and his.
You tore your mouth away, breathless and demanding. “Get this off.”
He exhaled, then gripped your hips and shifted until he was centered on the bed. He sat back with you in his lap, working open the buttons of his shirt while while your hand found the rigid length of him.
Joel tossed the flannel to the floor, and a heartbeat later his T-shirt followed. You didn’t think twice; just reached for the hem of yours and pulled it up over your shoulders, letting it fall beside his.
Before you could even turn back fully, his hands were already on you.
“Your hands are shaking,” you noted as you felt his palms finally cup the weight of your breasts. You covered his hands with your own, pressing them firmer against your skin.
You knew the man had a steady hand. You’d seen him handle a rifle with terrifying precision and navigate the edge of a blade without a single slip. Even that heart he’d carved into your wooden jewelry box was flawless; not a single jagged line or stray mark. That kind of work took a delicate unwavering touch. Joel’s hands didn't shake when he held a weapon, but they certainly trembled when they held you.
You smirked, tightening your grip on his hands where they cupped your breasts, and leaned in for a fleeting teasing brush of your lips against his. Then, pressing your palms into the solid muscle of his chest, you forced him to lean back. You adjusted yourself between his thighs, keeping every other stitch of clothing exactly where it was for now.
Joel was already watching you with his head propped up by one elbow dug into the mattress. He reached up, his fingers sliding through your hair to tuck it behind your shoulder, while your hand found the heavy swollen heat of his cock again. You began to move; a rhythmic, teasing glide from base to tip that made his breath hitch.
“You don’t have to hold back,” you told him as you brought your mouth to the swollen head of his cock. “Don’t you dare.”
“You sure about that?”
You nodded. “It’s exactly what I want.”
Joel let out a long, shaky exhale as your mouth finally enveloped him. It didn’t take long to find that same rhythmic friction, only now, from this angle, it was effortless to take him deeper. Your hand stayed clamped around the base, sliding barely halfway up before your mouth crowded him back down, suction and silk and heat working in tandem.
Your heart was hammering against your ribs. This was the goal; to feel him fill you completely, to feel him come apart right there in your mouth. You wanted a hundred other things from him tonight, but you had all the time in the world, didn’t you?
Step by step, you’d thought earlier today when you’d imagined this would be a simple picnic with Joel. You hadn't set any specific expectations; you just wanted to explore this new dynamic with him. But as your day was interrupted by one thing after another, you found yourself fantasizing about the possibilities—like having your mouth stuffed with his cock and listening to him gasp desperately, exactly like he was doing right now.
Joel’s fingers tightened in your hair and a low curse broke from his lips. “Fuck, I...” He shoved his head back against the mattress, teeth gritted in a hard line.
You moaned around him, your tongue dancing in circles over the bulbous tip. Your heart was thundering and your whole body felt feverish and needy. With your eyes watering and your breathing heavy through your nose, you kept the rhythm, focusing entirely on the slick friction.
You felt him go rigid beneath you. Joel sat up slightly, his hand coming up to stroke your hair as he let out a long, trembling sigh.
“Easy, easy,” he rasped, his voice thick with the effort of holding onto his composure. “You’re... you’re pullin’ the trigger way too fast on me. Right there, yeah, just like that—shit, I’m gonna—”
You didn't give him the chance to finish. You crowded him deeper, your hand clamping tight around his base and his balls simultaneously, grounding him in the sensation.
Joel let out a guttural, jagged groan as he hit his peak. His hand came up instinctively with a frantic, trembling touch against your shoulder as if to warn you or pull you away, but you didn't budge. Instead, you dialed up the intensity, matching the erratic slamming rhythm of his pulse. You felt his entire frame go rigid beneath you, every muscle corded with tension; his back arching off the mattress as he surrendered every ounce of control he usually fought so hard to keep.
His breath hitched, then broke into a series of sharp, desperate gasps. He was completely at your mercy, his fingers knotting so tightly into your hair that it was almost a bruise, his hips bucking in a blind, helpless reflex while you drank in every drop he had to give. He sounded wrecked.
“Jesus,” he finally breathed, the word barely a whisper as the last of the tremors racked his body. He looked at you, dazed and utterly perplexed, as you finally let him slip from your lips and took a slow breath of air.
Joel reached out and his thumb catched a stray tear at the corner of your eye with tenderness. His hands were still trembling, harder than before, but the raw hunger in his face had shifted into something else; he looked dismantled, completely consumed by you. His eyes were still dark, blown out, but there was such a stark vulnerability in the way he looked at you that your entire insides shivered.
“You alright?” he asked as he nudged you to sit up.
“Yeah,” you answered, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across your face as you nodded. “Are you?”
Joel mimicked the gesture, and for a heartbeat, you just watched him in the quiet of the room. You had never seen him look this relaxed; the hard lines of his face had finally softened, the perpetual tension in his jaw gone.
Before you could say another word, he gripped your waist and hauled you back against the mattress in one fluid motion, pinning you to the sheets. You braced a hand against the massive swell of his bicep as he hovered over you, caging you in with his arms planted firmly on either side of your head. He dipped his face close to yours.
“You enjoy that?”
You smirked, sliding your hands up the skin of his neck. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
A dark, knowing smirk played on his lips. His cheeks and chest were flushed a deep feverish red, his hair was a chaotic mess from your fingers, and his body was radiating an incredible heat. You couldn't resist; you buried your fingers into his hair, letting out a frustrated needy sigh at the sheer weight and presence of him hovering over you.
“Good,” he nodded, “'Cause now it’s my turn.”
Your eyes locked onto his, and Joel leaned in until his mouth was a hair's breadth from your ear.
“You gonna give me what I want?”
You closed your eyes, feeling the heat of his cheek pressed against yours. “What is it you want?”
Without a word, Joel pressed a lingering kiss to your jawline and began to work his way down your neck. He took his time, his teeth grazing and his tongue soothing the skin with a devastating rhythm. Your arms wound around him, pulling him closer as his mouth left a trail of damp searing marks along your collarbone until he reached your breasts. He took one of them into his mouth, savoring the sensitive skin and swirling his tongue over the peak.
“Oh, Joel,” you sighed, your fingers knotting into his hair as your eyelids grew heavy and your head fell back.
Joel stayed focused on you for a long moment, licking, sucking, and offering a sharp teasing nip. Then, he migrated to the other side, repeating the torment while his hands traveled down to the waistband of your jeans. You heard the metallic pop of the button and the rasp of the zipper being pulled down.
Suddenly, his mouth released you, and he looked you dead in the eye as he slid his hand beneath the lace of your underwear.
Joel leaned in to kiss you; a slow, deep claim on your mouth as he withdrew his hand to grapple with your jeans. He broke the kiss suddenly, shifting back as he hooked his fingers into the denim. He hauled your legs up, took your boots off and tugged the fabric down and over your heels until they were discarded on the floor. A second later, your underwear followed.
A sharp shiver raced down your spine as the reality hit: you were completely naked in front of Joel. Joel Miller, the same stubborn insufferable man who had been a thorn in your side since the day you met. Suddenly, a flash of every argument and every heated standoff you'd ever had with him rushed back to you. You remembered the time you’d actually pinned him to the floor in the heat of a fight, and somehow, the memory of that friction made the heat between your thighs flare into a white hot ache.
Joel’s eyes raked over you, as he took in every inch of you. He let out a low sigh, leaning over you and sliding his hand firmly around your waist.
“You’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice soft and sincere. His hand traveled up your torso, settling at your neck where he softly pressed his thumb into the hollow of your throat. He smoothed his palm over your skin before leaning down to press a soft lingering kiss to your lips.
You managed a weak smile. It was strange hearing something like that. The men you’d been with before (only two, in another lifetime) had never been particularly expressive. They were men of short, cordial phrases and impatient hands. You couldn't exactly blame them; the world was a jagged, dying place, and they didn't know any better. Neither did you. But none of them had ever handled you with the devastating delicacy Joel was showing you right now.
Slowly, Joel trailed his mouth downward, his beard grazing your skin until he pressed a kiss to your stomach. The sensation sent a sudden ripple of ticklish electricity through you, and a soft airy laugh escaped your lips. He tilted his head up just enough to catch your eye, with a glint of something softer in his gaze.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the breathiness of your voice betraying just how much he was getting to you.
“I promise you won’t be laughing in a second.”
Your smile widened just a fraction. You pressed your lips together and instinctively squeezed your legs shut, trapping him firmly between your thighs.
“Hey,” he chuckled. He planted a heavy hand on each of your thighs, his grip firm as he locked his dark eyes onto yours. “You ticklish?”
“A little.”
Joel’s expression shifted as a slow predatory grin spread across his face, and he began to pry your thighs back open. Your heart hammered against your ribs; you could feel his hot breath ghosting over your stomach, the coarse hair of his beard sending tiny sharp sparks of electricity through your nerves.
He moved lower, his gaze centering on you and let out a long sigh; the warm, humid puff of his breath hit your tender skin and your eyes fluttered partially shut.
“You’re drippin’,” he murmured, his mouth hovering just inches away from you.
“Joel,” you moaned, your hips hitching forward in a blind reflexive search for contact.
He tightened his hold on your thighs, his knuckles white against your skin. “What do you want? Tell me.”
You propped yourself up on one elbow, looking down at his flushed face. You reached out with your free hand and tangled your fingers in his hair, giving a hard impatient tug at the curls falling over his forehead.
“Just do something,” you snapped, your composure finally snapping under the tension.
“What? Tell me,” he challenged. “Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
You let out a frustrated sigh, your grip tightening in his hair. He didn't flinch.
“Just… just eat me out.”
The last trace of a smirk vanished from his face. Joel gave a slow, solemn nod.
You felt his fingers slide from your thighs to your folds, the pads of his thumbs parting you with a deliberate touch. His eyes remained fixed there for a heartbeat, and you heard him catch a ragged breath. Then, while you watched him, unable to look away from the sight of him between your legs, Joel finally took you: his mouth opened over you, his lips warm and wet as they sealed around your heat, and you felt his tongue make its first contact;a slow, languid stroke right over your clit that made your entire world tilt.
“Good god, Joel,” you gasped, head snapping back as your fingers tangled deep in his hair. You were dying to sink into the mattress, but you couldn't bring yourself to break eye contact, not when he was looking at you like that.
Your gaze, heavy and hazed, stayed locked on him as his tongue began to work with a punishing intensity. Joel’s eyes fluttered shut, his face pressing deeper into your softest parts, and a low, gravelly groan vibrated from his throat straight into your bones.
The world blurred as you let your eyelids fall, giving in to the way his mouth was mapping out every nerve ending you owned. All that existed was the slick rhythmic friction and the filthy sweet sounds of him devouring you. He was lapping at you with a pace that felt like a beautiful kind of torture; a relentless rhythm that had you hovering right between relief and total desperation.
Joel felt your grip tighten in his hair and let out a muffled chuckle against your skin.
"Lord,... you keep makin' noises like that and..."
With a broken moan, your strength finally gave out and you collapsed back against the pillows, completely undone.
Joel smirked against you, pulling away with a sweet wet sound. He surged upward, looming over you for a heartbeat before caging you in. You blinked your eyes open just in time to see his face inches from yours; you hooked your arms around his neck, dragging him down until your mouths collided in a hungry desperate mess of heat and spit.
He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against your lips, "You still feelin' ticklish?"
Your hand trailed from his jaw, down his throat, settling over his chest. "Funny enough... no."
Joel huffed a softt laugh and started his descent again. He settled between your thighs, his large hands prying your legs wide with a grip that was, interestingly enough, no longer shaking.
The moment his mouth found you again, you choked back a ragged sob. Any lingering trace of patience had officially vanished. Joel began to absolutely devour you; his tongue swirled in slick teasing circles before flattening out, tasting the full, aching length of you. Every few seconds, he’d draw your swollen clit deep between his lips with a deep suction that sent tremors through your entire frame with every taste.
Your hips began to move on their own in a restless search for friction that Joel quickly cut short. He planted his hands firmly at your sides, pinning you to the mattress to keep you exactly where he wanted you. You felt one of his hands release its grip, and the sudden absence of his mouth left you cold for a fleeting second.
Before you could even blink your eyes open to see what he was up to, you felt two of his fingers slide, inch by agonizing inch, deep inside you.
Propping yourself up on one elbow, you watched the scene unfold with hazy eyes. Joel wasn't looking at you; his gaze was fixed on the sight of his own fingers disappearing into you. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his face flushed red, while his lips and chin glistened from the taste of you.
Slowly, he began to curl his fingers upward; they hit exactly where you needed it, over and over again.
“Oh my God, Joel,” you sobbed out, your hand reaching down to delicately trace the side of his face as the sensation took over completely.
Joel’s thick heavy fingers began to fuck you with a punishingly steady pace, robbing you of every coherent thought. You could only offer up desperate moans and broken sighs as you felt every cell in your body turn liquid, melting right there under him.
You fell back against the pillows, your spine arching as the heat in your blood reached a fever pitch; your heart was drumming a frantic erratic rhythm against your ribs, threatening to burst right through your chest. Joel didn't miss a beat; he tracked the movement, his large hand shifting to pin your hip down as he leaned back into you.
His mouth found you again, and this time, there was no mercy. His tongue began to lash over your clit in wide, flat circles that made you see stars while his fingers kept up that steady, punishing pump inside you. The dual sensation was overwhelming, a coordinated dance that had you sobbing his name into the empty air of the room.
"Yeah, that's it," he grunted against your inner thigh. "Just take it. Take every damn bit of it."
He buried his face deeper, his nose brushing against your damp skin as he picked up the pace. The squelch of his fingers entering and leaving you combined with the wet sounds of his mouth until the room felt far too small and too hot. You were melting; your muscles coiling tight and heavy, every nerve ending screaming for the release he was so expertly dangling just out of reach.
Joel looked up for a fleeting second, his eyes dark and blown wide with a primal sort of hunger, his chin was glistening. He watched your face contort with a beautiful, desperate kind of agony before he dove back in, his tongue mimicking the relentless thrust of his hand until you were nothing but a shivering mess of heat and raw need.
The intensity in the room spiked; Joel’s fingers hooked deep inside you, curling upward with a punishing precision that found that exact jagged nerve that made your entire world go white. He didn’t let up, his mouth locking onto your clit with a heavy suction that had you arching off the mattress, teeth gritted so hard your jaw ached.
You were drowning in it, completely desperate, your hands finding the sweet soft locks of his hair and tugging instinctively, pulling him even closer as he buried his face into your soaking cunt. A muffled groan vibrated from his throat against your skin.
Your chest heaved, breath coming in broken stabs. In a haze of pure unadulterated need, your own hands wandered upward, grazing over your skin until you found your breasts. You squeezed, your thumb and forefinger catching one nipple in a sharp pinch that sent a bolt of lightning straight to your core.
Joel’s eyes snapped up as he heard your moan, catching the sight; he let out a guttural sound against you.
"Look at you," he rasped, his voice completely ruined.
The pace shifted instantly. His fingers began to pump into you with a frantic intensity, mirroring the way his tongue lashed and swirled over you. The friction was relentless, a beautiful, dirty symphony of sound and sensation.
Then, the world simply broke.
You shattered; a glorious, violent climax slammed into you like a wave. It was a sensation unlike anything you’d ever known, new, terrifying, and utterly perfect. You felt yourself soaring, your internal muscles clenching and pulsing desperate waves around his fingers. Every cell in your body turned to liquid as you sobbed out his name, the pleasure invading every inch of your being until you were nothing but a shivering beautiful mess of heat and release.
Joel didn't stop immediately; he kept his mouth pressed against you, lapping up the tremors of your climax until the sheer intensity of it became too much to bear. Your hips bucked in a silent plea for mercy, and he finally pulled away from you; though he kept his fingers buried deep, still curling them in that maddening hook that kept the sparks flying behind your eyelids.
He surged up the length of your body; his entire body was warm and flushed. And when his mouth crashed into yours, you let out a broken moan directly into his throat. You clung to him, arms locking around his shoulders as you realized his fingers hadn't stopped their internal rhythm. It was a debilitating sensation; such a beautiful exhaustion that made your bones feel like lead.
Joel smelled incredible. It was just... him. It wasn't just the soaps he used or the wood scent, no, it was the salt etched essence of his skin.
You kissed him back with everything you had, tasting yourself on his lips as he gradually allowed his hand to go still inside you. And the sudden quiet of his fingers felt warm, grounding you as the world stopped spinning and your heart calmed down.
Slowly, he withdrew his hand and broke the kiss.
Joel brought his glistening fingers to his own mouth, tasting you, and the view of it made your heart skip. Then, without a word, he guided them toward your lips. You didn't hesitate, parting your mouth to take him in, lapping at the salt and sweetness of your own release from his skin.
A slow tired smirk spread across his face, his eyes were hooded.
"There you go," he murmured. "That's what I wanted."
You gave him a tired smile, your hand drifting up to brush your own cheek as a quiet sigh slipped from your lips. Joel leaned in, pressed a brief kiss to your mouth, and just as you lifted your hands to touch him again, he shifted off you, dropping onto his back at your side.
You ran your tongue over your lips and watched him for a moment. His chest rose and fell in rhythm with yours, both of you catching your breath as it gradually evened out.
His bed was reaaally comfortable, and the quiet that settled over you felt really good too while your body came back to itself. Beside you, he stayed silent.
“I gotta use the bathroom,” you said after a beat, pushing yourself upright, and suddenly, acutely aware of your bare skin.
“That door there, by the window,” he replied, lifting himself slightly onto one elbow. “Call out if you need anythin’.”
You nodded.
“Hey, wait. Take this.”
You turned your head and saw him holding out his shirt. You took it without thinking, offering him a small smile of thanks as you slipped it on. It swallowed you whole. You fastened a few buttons, just enough, and stood. You could feel his eyes on your back the entire walk to the door.
You flicked on the bathroom light and shut it behind you.
Holy hell.
What the actual hell had that been? And what exactly were you supposed to do now?
You leaned back against the door and let out a long breath, closing your eyes as you replayed it all in your head. Your legs were still weak from it—no, not just your legs. Your whole body felt wrung out, boneless and satisfied.
And you still had to go home. You’d have to walk the long stretch back pretending your knees weren’t humming like they had a motor built into them. Outside, you’d probably pass people heading in or out of the Tipsy Bison and you really, really hoped (please, God) you wouldn’t run into anyone who could read your face. Not Zach... please.
With another sigh, you padded over to the toilet, enjoying the feeling of the cool tile beneath your bare feet. After taking care of yourself, you flushed and turned on the tap.
Well, Joel didn’t have a mirror. You frowned. There was only a small one leaning against the counter by the sink. Strange. A man who owned a coffee maker, a blender, and who knew what else, but no proper mirror?
You took in the items lined up neatly along the counter: a toothbrush, a jar of that natural toothpaste Zach made (mint, baking soda, eucalyptus oil), a hairbrush, a razor, and a bar of almond soap resting carefully in a wooden dish.
You picked up the soap and washed your hands and your face, then dried off with the hand towel hanging to the side and brushed your teeth with your fingers. The mint woke you up a little.
God. You were so, so thirsty.
When you stepped back into the bedroom, Joel was nowhere in sight. But now his jeans were on the floor, though, so you figured he’d changed.
You crossed past the desk and made your way to the other side of the room, where an archway led into his closet.
Joel’s jackets hung in careful order on separate hangers. The scent of leather and him rose from the fabric just like on the other side, where his flannels were lined up from the thickest and heaviest to the lightest ones, with their sleeves falling straight.
Joel was a tidy man. Everything clean, everything in its place. It made you smile. Like he always knew exactly where things belonged.
Suddenly, the bedroom door opened without warning and you hurried out of the closet, not wanting to look like you’d been snooping.
Joel walked in holding a full glass of water. He’d changed into gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt, looking fresher; probably used the other bathroom.
“Here. Drink some water,” he said, stepping closer and placing the cool glass in your hand.
You took it and he watched you for a moment while you drank. Then, he moved to the side of the bed, gathering the rest of the clothes from the floor.
When you swallowed, your throat stung slightly; sensitive from him.
Having quenched your thirst, you stepped back toward him and set the glass on the nightstand. You took your clothes from his hands, dropped your jeans and T-shirt onto the bed, and slipped into your underwear.
“I should probably head out.”
“Mm,” Joel set his own clothes on the chair by his nightstand. “Alright. Though… I mean, you can stay, if you want.”
You straightened, pushing the sleeves of his flannel back down your wrists.
“I mean, it’s pretty late,” he went on, “and I don’t reckon it’s a good idea for you to walk all the way home with that ankle the way it is. Besides… your legs are still a little shaky,” he added, so offhand it almost sounded like nothing; maybe unaware of how the comment warmed your cheeks.
“Oh.”
“But if you’re set on leavin', I’ll walk you back. Ain’t no trouble.”
You smiled. “That’s not necessary, Joel.”
“Well then, stay.”
“Um, I… are you sure?”
Joel nodded and sat on the edge of the bed, dragging a hand over his thigh. He looked relaxed.
He glanced up at you. “I’m all alone in this big old house. Don’t mind you stayin’ the night. Bed’s pretty big, too.”
“Oh,” you swallowed. “Then… okay.”
Joel dipped his chin again. “Okay.”
You gathered your clothes and set them on top of his, draped over the chair by the nightstand. Joel stepped into the hallway to switch off the lights, and you turned to look at the bed.
Which side were you supposed to take?
It wasn’t like you were overthinking it. That’d be ridiculous.
Left or right?
The door clicked shut behind him.
“C’mon,” he said softly, pulling back the sheets and gesturing for you to climb in.
Without giving yourself time to think it through, you climbed onto the bed, Joel right behind you, guiding you gently toward the left side. You pulled the covers up to your chest and stared at the ceiling while he switched off the lamp on his nightstand.
You didn’t mind this part of the arrangement. If anything, you liked it more than you’d expected.
You’d assumed “just sex” meant stripping away anything that resembled tenderness or hospitality. In your head, it had been clinical; heat without comfort. But there was something undeniably sweet about settling into bed afterward instead of limping home in the middle of the night. “Just sex” could include aftercare, couldn’t it? You and Joel were mature enough to admit that much and let it happen. At least you were. Besides, you two always had a complicated relationship, and even in your worst moments he managed to help you and take care of you, so, this was not strange at all.
And it wasn’t as though this was new territory. You’d shared a bed before. Fallen asleep beside each other before. That particular line of intimacy had been crossed a while ago.
Lying next to him felt natural. It even reminded you a little of the cabin trip.
Joel exhaled, already settled beneath the sheets. “You feelin’ okay?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
You thought about it for a second. “I really liked that.”
A beat. “You did? Huh, couldn’t tell.”
You clicked your tongue. “Don’t get cocky, Miller.”
Joel let out a low chuckle.
“I’ve never seen your frown that relaxed before.”
“Never seen you that quiet before,” he shot back.
You pinched his arm under the covers, and before you could pull your hand away, Joel caught your wrist and gave a tug, drawing you in against him.
Instinctively, you rested your head in the space between his arm and his chest as he slid that arm beneath your neck, pulling you closer. You just closed your eyes.
“I’m tired,” you murmured.
“Then go on and sleep.”
Your eyelids grew heavier as you listened to the relaxed sound of his breathing and the quiet thud of his heart beneath your ear. Your whole body relaxed beneath the warm sheets, and you slept peacefully through the entire night.
How many hours later?
When you opened your eyes, bright sunlight poured through the windows washing the entire room in gold. Your body felt loose, rested, comfortably tucked between warm sheets and the solid body at your back. Joel.
Joel was pressed flush against you, with his arm heavy around your waist. You could feel the soft brush of his breath behind your ear, and every other second, a soft snore rumbling low in his chest.
Mhm.
You didn’t want to move yet. The bed was too warm, too comfortable, and you knew the moment you slipped out of it, you’d have to make the walk home.
Just a little longer.
Many, many hours later.
A soft sigh escaped you as consciousness slowly ebbed back in. You stretched your legs with a languid pleasure, your arm draped over the solid weight of Joel’s body. Your cheek was pressed against his back, much of your chest pressed gently to him as he slept face down beneath you, snoring peacefully.
What time was it?
Bracing a hand against the broad expanse of his back, you sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Your cheeks felt warm and flushed and a wide yawn took over as you stared at the nape of Joel’s neck. You traced the way his curls met his skin; salt and pepper strands tangled together in a heap.
You reached out, your palm sinking slowly into the curve of his shoulder blade as you gave him a gentle nudge. You could just let him sleep, slip out of the house without a word. It wouldn't be awkward; honestly, it might even be the easier move. But beside you, Joel began to stir just as sluggishly. He dragged his hands across his face and propped himself up on one elbow, causing you to slide off his back and onto the mattress beside him.
"Snow?"
"Right here."
"Oh... what time is it?" he asked, his voice even deeper and raspier than usual. He groaned softly, rolling over until he was staring up at the ceiling.
"No idea," you murmured, letting yourself fall back onto the pillows. You stretched your arms high above your head, feeling a lingering sense of peace. You’d slept so soundly you couldn't even remember if you'd dreamed at all.
Joel shifted and checked the clock on the nightstand.
“Shit. It’s noon.”
Your eyes flew open as you turned toward him. “What?”
“Twelve thirteen.”
You sat up and leaned over him to see for yourself. 12:13 p.m.
Your mouth fell open.
“No way,” you pressed a hand to your forehead. “No way, I didn’t go to the greenhouse. Zach’s probably wondering where I am.”
“I had stuff to do this mornin’,” he said, sitting up and looking at you with raised brows.
“You have stuff to do early every day.”
“Well, if anyone asks why I wasn’t there, I can tell ’em it wasn’t my fault,” he teased, swinging his legs off the bed. “’Cause it sure wasn’t.”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault?”
Joel stood and turned to face you. His eyes were still puffy from oversleeping. He planted both hands on his hips.
“You can blame your bed,” you shot back. “It’s way too comfortable. Mine’s not this dangerous.”
Joel rolled his eyes. “I sleep in this bed every night and I don’t clock fourteen hours.”
You opened your mouth, only then realizing you really had slept fourteen damn hours.
"Well, I don't exactly make a habit of sleeping fourteen hours straight either," you muttered, rubbing your eyes one last time.
Joel let out a huff, but you didn't miss the smirk that tugged at his mouth just before he rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. You watched him disappear inside and heard the door click shut; only then did you finally drag yourself up.
You stretched again, feeling that hard stiffness that comes from being out for the count for way too long.
Shuffling over to the chair where your clothes were piled on top of his, you slowly worked the buttons of his shirt. You slid it off your shoulders and tossed it onto the unmade bed before reaching for your own shirt. The fabric was a bit of a wrinkled mess, but a quick smoothing over with your palms made it look presentable enough, and finally, with your jeans back on and your socks snug, you perched on the edge of the mattress to tackle your boots.
Joel stepped out of the bathroom just in time to see you getting up and slipping inside. His eyes followed you until you were fully in.
You didn’t close the door.
“Why don’t you have a mirror?” you asked, turning on the faucet and beginning to wash your face.
"I got a mirror," he countered, stepping back inside. He reached down and picked up the small one from the counter.
You let out a laugh as he grabbed a towel and held it out to you.
"Okay, technically that’s a mirror," you said, taking the towel from him, "but you know that’s not what I meant."
"If you're talkin' 'bout one of those," he said, gesturing toward the empty space on the wall above the sink, "Ellie's got it."
Oh. That made sense.
You finished drying your face and placed the towel back where he’d taken it from.
For a moment, you just looked at him in silence.
“Oh—sorry. I’ll give you some privacy,” Joel started moving toward the door again.
You laughed softly. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry. I have to get going.”
“Oh. Right,” he nodded once. “Let me walk you to the door.”
Joel stayed still so you could pass him and step out of the bathroom, and you had to fight back a smile as you did, pretending his sudden shy politeness wasn’t completely out of character.
As you headed downstairs, a dull throb in your ankle reminded you it wasn't quite one hundred percent yet, though it was a definite improvement over yesterday. Not that it mattered much; you had a walk home ahead of you, so "rest" was officially a luxury you couldn't afford. From here on out, though, you’d have to play it smart. You couldn't exactly do your job with a bum foot.
Joel must have caught the slight hitch in your step, because the second you reached the front door, he spoke up.
"Hey, take care of that foot like you’re supposed to."
"I know, I know."
He gave a sharp nod. "Alright. Well... uh, see ya later."
You couldn't help but let a playful smile tug at your lips. "See you later, Joel."
He reached out, his hand coming to rest on the doorknob, but he didn't turn it. He just stood there, looking at you.
"What's so funny?"
"I'm not laughing."
"Why the grin, then?"
You just beamed at him. "No reason."
Joel frowned, but only for a second. A smirk slowly pulled at his lips instead.
He stepped closer, relaxed, and pressed a short warm kiss to your mouth.
“See you around,” he murmured, finally opening the door.
You were so locked into his gaze as you stepped out onto the porch that you completely failed to register the person standing directly in your path.
When you turned, you stopped short.
“Oh—Ellie, hi.”
Ellie was standing there with her brows arched toward her hairline and a tiny, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes did a quick lap, scanning you before landing on Joel, who was still standing in the doorway... in his pajamas.
"Hey. I—I... how's it goin'?" she asked, clearly doing her level best to smother a smirk.
You managed a nod and a strained smile. "Good. I'm good. You?"
"Can't complain."
You swallowed hard. "That's good. Well, I was just heading out."
"Sure," Ellie said, stepping aside to clear the way.
You walked past her without looking back, absolutely refusing to turn around. Your cheeks felt hotter than ever, embarrassment prickling under your skin.
The only things you heard were Joel’s door closing behind you, and the sound of your own blood pumping loudly in your ears.
You smiled like an idiot at how ridiculous the whole thing had been.
Oh, and for the record? You totally forgot your coffee.
divider by: omi-resources
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