series summary: The outbreak took a lot from you, but it gave you a little sister. Wherever she goes, you go. Now, that means crossing the country with a man who keeps the world at arm’s length. But 3,000 miles has a funny way of making the heart forget how to be alone.
warnings/tags: age gap, mature language, mentions of blood and violence, grumpy x sunshine, sexual content, angst, no use of y/n, more tbd!
Blurb: Joel comes over for dinner but disaster strikes when secrets are discovered.
Warnings: 18+, sexually explicit, use of Daddy and other pet names, age gap, and slight violence.
Authors note: It’s been a while since I’ve written anything but inspiration struck and I wrote this silly little blurb to ease back in to things. Enjoy :)
Main Masterlist
- - -
Tonight marks two months of sneaking around with your dads best friend.
Two months of lying about plans, sneaking out of Joel’s house at the ass crack of dawn, and crawling back through your bedroom window before your parents wake up.
So far, your web of lies hasn’t been tangled and no one suspects a thing. Both of you have been diligent about covering your tracks and avoiding slip ups.
Tonight you set the dinner table with your mom, nonchalant, though listening around the corner as your dad greets his buddy Joel Miller at the door and welcomes him in for dinner.
“The hell happened to you man” your dad asks Joel as he ushers him inside, questioning him about something you can’t see.
Joel answers with a nervous cough but recovers quickly. “Rough day at work, some idiot wasn’t paying attention.”
You play it cool when Joel rounds the corner, joining the cozy dining room behind your father.
Your eyes immediately note the faint purple bruise on the side of his neck, just below where his dark stubble ends.
Shit.
Joel’s eyes find you immediately, an “I told you so” simmering in their depths.
Your face heats and your eyes dart to the floor, nervously tucking a stray stand of hair behind your ear.
You wear your hair up tonight, tendrils framing your face but swept back back into a a ponytail that exposes the length of your neck.
A ponytail like the one Joel had wrapped around his fist and yanked back on less than 24hours ago while he was fucking you deep into the mattress, sweaty and hard.
Growling filthy, toe curling, atrocities in your ear the entire time.
“Come on angel, ” he rasped between labored breaths as he thrusted into you, “tell daddy how good it feels.”
“Fucky, daddy,” you whined into the pillow, voice punctuated by each snap of his hips into you, “so fucking good. I’m so wet, give me more, more, more,” you pleaded until he unloaded into you before collapsing into the sheets together, legs tangled, bodies sweaty and heart rate thundering.
You snap out of your flashback.
Currently, the four of you gather around the table, plates stacked high with a lovely dinner, potatoes, veggies, and a steaming hot roast.
Dutifully, you bow your head and close your eyes as your dad says the prayer, thanking his God for the meal and welfare of his family.
“Amen” you say, like the good girl you are, in unison with everyone else as the prayer comes to an end.
“Daddy, can you pass me the salt?” You say, nodding toward the shakers out your reach.
Your dad reaches for the salt.
So does Joel.
Their fingers brush, coming into contact as they each try to grab the small salt shaker.
Your stomach drops.
Joel stops breathing, freezing in place as he realizes his mistake.
Your dad blinks and you watch as the realization strikes. First, confusion pulls between his brows. Then his eyes dart from Joel’s big brown eyes to yours. Then finally he looks back at the suspiciously small bruise on the side of Joel’s neck. That’s when your father’s face reddens and eyes go wide.
Your mothers fork clatters loudly as it drops onto her plate, the sound piercing the now silent room.
Oh, shit.
Joel’s hand go up, palms facing you father across the table from him, as he attempts to keep the peace. Before he can come up with an explanation your father interjects.
“What the fuck is that on your neck Joel” your father asks, pointing at the now obvious hickey on his neck as he stands up from the table.
Joel rises from his own seat to meet him in stature.
“I told you it happened at work”
“Don’t give me that bullshit Joel” your dad says louder now, hands clenching.
You and your mother watch in silent, awkward horror.
Then your dad’s stare pins you next.
“Didn’t we raise you better than this,” he spits, voice booming. “Running around behind our backs like a tramp. Whoring yourself off to someone old enough to be your fucking father!”
The raised voice and vile language raise Joel’s hackles. He steps ever so slightly infront of you, his body a ready barrier between you and your father.
“Baby” Joel says to you calmly, eyes trained on your father, “why don’t you take your momma into the other room. We’ve got some things to settle.”
You and your mother barely make it out of your seats before your father flies across the table, that pet name his final straw.
Plates clatter, drinks spill, and vegetables go flying across the table and floors of the dining room as the two men collide.
Joel takes a surprise first to the jaw but his sturdy build and sheer mass eat the punch before he throws himself at your father.
As the two of them begin to brawl, your mother wails in shock at the disaster unfolding.
And despite the poor timing, your stomach growls and you can’t help but mourn the fact that you didn’t even get to taste the mashed potato’s tonight.
Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.
Content Warning: In order to avoid spoilers I will not be warning you of everything. This story will contain sexually explicit material around the world of BDSM. Please remember that even with the age gap betweeen Joel and Reader, they are both legal and consenting adults. Although my intentions are never to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. That being said, as a survivor of sexual assault none of this story will contain dubcon or consensual non consent. At the heart of it all, this is a love story.
AN: I figured that @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @burntheedges and @joelmillerisapunk are all sick of me yelling at them about this story so I should start sharing! Thank you to the 4 of you for all your kind words and encouragement. To the 800+ of you that follow me, thank you for being such beautiful souls and encouraging me to work on my craft. I hope you love this series as much as I love each and every one of you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 - Part One
Chapter 5 - Part Two
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
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A/N: This was very much inspired from reading Hunting Adeline. Thank you to @alltheirdamn for screaming with me about this and bouncing ideas with me. I’m so so excited for it 😭 This one is for all the girls who’ve ever been taken advantage of, used, and are healing from unspoken trauma. This is very much all about healing and being taken under the wings of a man that breathes life into you again 🥹 This one’s for you, my healing girlies 🩷
“Left Behind” by The Plot In You was the song that really pushed me to write this 🥹
Summary: You never expected to get auctioned off in a room full of filthy rich, vile men after being taken over a year ago, but it happened. And the man that buys you, the one with soft brown eyes, just might’ve saved your life. He doesn’t want to hurt you. No. He wants to show you what it’s like to fall back in love with life.
Tags: Mentions of being trafficked, flashbacks of being abused, non-consensual touching, a boat load of angst, soft and protective Joel, tons of emotions, trust issues, PTSD, eventual smut (consensual and gentle), no use y/n, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Joel is late 40’s), pre-outbreak au, more tags to come with each chapter
Ch 1: You’re Safe With Me
Ch 2: A Million Shades of Red
Ch 3: You Trust Me?
Ch 4: Bubble Baths and Faded Scars
Ch 5: Friday Night In
Ch 6: New Introductions with a Cup of Hot Chocolate
In His Wrath, She Rises (Dark, Protective Joel Miller x Reader) MASTER LIST
Summary: You have had a rough couple of years, still wounded by a man hellbent on using you and hurting you for his pleasure. From the outside, no one can see the quiet, crippling hurt on the inside - except for Joel Miller, who just moved into the lower floor of your split-level home. In your darkness, Joel provides the only light you've had in years. Will his darkness prove to be too much for you to handle, or is it just what you have always needed?
TW: Abuse (emotional and physical), Domestic violence, Pregnancy-related trauma, Rape/sexual assault, PTSD, Discussions of medical trauma, Mentions of manipulation and coercion, birth, age gap (reader is in late 20’s)
It’s four in the morning, and you’re on your hands and knees on the slightly elevated clinic bed, gripping the railing so tightly your knuckles ache. Your knees are pressed into the thin mattress, your back arched, your forehead damp with sweat, and the pain—God, the pain—is tearing through your body like wildfire.
You can’t stop crying.
It’s relentless. Each wave hits harder than the last, curling through your abdomen, your back, your thighs. There’s no epidural. No morphine. No comfort but the dim lamplight, the soft rustle of the snow outside, and Joel’s hand on your lower back.
“I know, baby. I know,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, trying to breathe with you. “Just breathe… Breathe with me, alright?”
You try. You really do. But the pain is white-hot and unforgiving, and you sob again, rocking slightly, clutching the rail like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.
Dr. Barbara pushes open the door quietly, her face calm, collected, but you can tell she’s watching you closely. “Okay, honey,” she says gently. “Let’s check how far along you are.”
You can barely nod. You’re trembling, your arms barely holding you up, and Joel helps you shift slowly onto your back, whispering encouragements the whole way.
Dr. Barbara lifts the hem of the soft muumuu gown the nurses put you in hours ago and checks. “Ten centimeters,” she announces. “It’s time to push.”
You shake your head through the tears. “No… No, I can’t. I can’t—oh my God—it hurts so much. I feel like I’m dying.”
Joel’s already beside you, his fingers lacing through yours, his other hand cupping your damp cheek. “Hey,” he says, softly but firm. “You can. You’re doing this. I’m right here, alright? You’re not alone.”
Two nurses move quickly to your side, preparing what they need, murmuring quietly. The contractions hit harder, sharper, ripping sobs from your throat. You scream through the burn in your body, through the fire that builds with every push.
Joel holds your hand the whole time, kisses your forehead, whispers in your ear. You swear his voice is the only thing grounding you in this moment.
“Okay, Y/N,” Dr. Barbara says from between your legs. “We’re gonna start. I need you to bear down and push for ten seconds if you can. Then we rest for ten. Then we do it again.”
You nod, even as more tears spill down your cheeks. You push.
And push.
And push again.
Joel’s right there—rubbing your back, wiping your forehead, whispering how proud he is, how strong you are, how close you’re getting. His words blur together with the rush of pain, your body stretching, tearing, burning—
“Just breathe, baby, that’s it… I got you,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, grounding you through the chaos. “You’re doin’ so damn good.”
Your fingers clutch at his shirt, nails digging into the fabric, and he leans in closer, brushing damp strands of hair from your face.
“Almost there, alright? You’re so close. Jus’ a few more pushes. You can do this.”
You sob, shaking your head, eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t—Joel, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he says fiercely, voice cracking just a little. “You got this. You’re so fuckin’ strong, baby—so goddamn strong.”
His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing across your flushed skin. “C’mon, sweetheart. Show me how strong you are.”
Then Dr. Barbara’s voice rises. “That’s it! Come on—one more—baby’s almost here!”
And you scream through it, you push with everything you have—
And then the baby is finally out.
There’s a pause. One suspended second where the world holds its breath—and then the room is filled with the tiny, perfect sound of your baby crying.
You sob.
Joel does too. You feel it—his breath hitching as he presses kisses to your temple, his grip tightening on your hand like he’ll never let go.
The nurse gently pulls down your gown and lays your child on your chest, and you cradle them in your trembling arms, her soft, tiny body. Warm, squirming, crying against your skin.
Dr. Barbara asks if Joel wants to cut the cord. He nods, a little stunned, wiping at his eyes as he walks over and takes the scissors. His hands are shaking, but he does it—clean and quick—and then he’s back by your side, staring down at the baby in awe.
The nurses ask to take them to clean up quickly, just in the corner of the room, and you nod. “Of course”
And then you hear it—“Congratulations,” one of them says softly, “you have a baby girl.”
You cry again, reaching for Joel’s hand. “We have a baby girl.”
He smiles, tearful. “W-we do.”
And for a moment, you both just sit in silence, eyes locked, your fingers entwined. You lean in, kiss him—soft and full of everything you don’t even have the words to say yet. He kisses you back like it’s instinct.
When the nurses return, they’re holding a tiny bundle wrapped tightly in a blanket, a little beanie pulled over her head. “Seven and a half pounds, twenty inches long,” they tell you with smiles. “She’s perfect.”
You take her back into your arms, completely overwhelmed by how beautiful she is. You can’t stop staring at her little face, the rise and fall of her chest, the tiniest hint of a dimple when she yawns.
Dr. Barbara finishes checking that everything is okay, then gently excuses herself, giving you privacy. Joel sits beside you again, brushing your hair back from your face, eyes never leaving the baby.
The weight of everything—the pain, the exhaustion, the overwhelming love—finally settles on you. You blink slowly, taking in the quiet, peaceful moment. The room smells of newborn skin and fresh beginnings.
“Joel…” Your voice is soft, but it carries the weight of all the emotions flooding through you. “She’s... ours. Our little girl.”
Joel’s eyes glisten, once again. He leans in closer, his hand brushing over the baby’s tiny hand, marveling at her.
“She’s perfect, baby. I—" His voice catches in his throat. "I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” you whisper, reaching out and gently pulling him closer. “I want you to hold her. She’s… she’s yours too.”
Joel hesitates for a moment, still gazing down at the baby as though he can’t quite believe it. Then, with a deep breath, he slowly, carefully takes her from your arms. His hands are trembling slightly as he cradles her, his eyes soft with awe.
“She’s already got you wrapped around her finger,” you tease gently, a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re doing great.”
He chuckles softly, glancing down at the tiny girl in his arms. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.” His voice cracks as he speaks, and for a moment, his usual tough demeanor completely shatters. “But I’m gonna do everything I can to protect her, baby. I swear.”
Tears sting your eyes as you watch him hold their daughter with such care, tenderness in his gaze.
“She’s our baby girl, Joel. And she’s already lucky to have you.”
Joel nods, swallowing hard, his throat tight. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her tiny head, his voice barely a whisper, “I’m so in love with you both.”
A moment later he says
“What do you wanna name her?” he asks quietly.
You look down at your daughter again, heart swelling. The answer is already there, warm in your chest. “Aurora,” you whisper. “It means light.”
Joel’s face softens in that way you’ve come to know—like he’s breaking open inside just to hold more love. “Aurora,” he repeats, like it’s sacred. “Yeah… That’s her.”
Your little light.
A few hours later, the door creaks open and Ellie steps in with a sheepish smile and a little messy bouquet of flowers clutched awkwardly in her hands. “Hey,” she says, quiet but excited.
Joel’s still sitting by your bed, and you’re holding Aurora in your arms, swaying her gently. Ellie walks over, her eyes wide with awe, and sits carefully on the edge of the bed.
“Hi,” she whispers to the baby, voice soft and full of wonder.
You glance over at her, teasing gently. “Meet your little sister.”
Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Okay, mom,” she says with a dramatic smirk, and you just laugh—because truthfully, it doesn’t bother you at all if she calls you mom.
You’ve got your family. You’ve got your people.
You’ve got each other—and your new little light through the dark.
Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.
Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia
WC: 7.6K
A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.
Series Masterlist
Pain.
That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.
Then you smelled it.
The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.
You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.
You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?
Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.
You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.
The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.
Maybe you were dying.
Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.
"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.
"Jesse! Get her water!"
You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.
"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.
"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.
Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.
Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.
"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?
"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.
Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.
"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"
The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.
"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.
"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.
"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."
"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!
"First day of what?"
"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.
"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.
"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.
"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.
"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.
Then you saw the bodies.
Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.
"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.
"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.
"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.
"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.
"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."
"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."
"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.
"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.
You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.
So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.
"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.
You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.
"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.
"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?
"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.
"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.
"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"
"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."
"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.
You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.
"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.
"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.
You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.
At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.
This didn't seem right.
"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.
"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.
"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.
"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.
"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.
"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."
"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.
"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.
"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.
"Are we... together?" you asked him.
Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.
"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."
You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.
Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.
Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.
After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.
"Cordy- what?"
"Cordyceps," he repeated.
"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.
"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.
"How much is 'some'?"
"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.
"Ten years?!"
He nodded.
"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"
"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."
Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.
"That's the last day you remember?"
"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.
"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.
Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.
"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.
You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.
Ten years.
Ten whole years, just... gone.
What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?
The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.
You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.
The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.
He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.
His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.
Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.
Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.
"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.
"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.
"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.
Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.
"It's too soon to say-"
"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.
"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.
"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.
"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.
You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.
"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.
His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.
"Don't come near me."
He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.
"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?
"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.
"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.
"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.
"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"
"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.
The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.
"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.
You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.
"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"
Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.
"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.
"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.
"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"
Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.
"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.
"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"
"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.
"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.
"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.
"I don't want to go home with him."
Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.
"It's your home, too," he said.
"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"
Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.
"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."
You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.
"How long have I known him?" you asked.
"Five years."
You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.
"And how long have you known him?"
"All my life."
Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.
"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.
"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.
"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.
To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.
You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.
His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.
You still weren't sure who he was.
You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.
You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.
Well, second first impression.
Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.
"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.
The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.
"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.
The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.
You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.
"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.
"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.
"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.
"Yeah, I reckon it is."
Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.
"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.
"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.
"Sorry," you whispered.
"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"
You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.
"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.
"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.
"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"
"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.
You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.
"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.
Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.
The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.
Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?
But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.
You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.
"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"
Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.
"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.
"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.
"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.
"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.
"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.
"Ellie?"
He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.
"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.
"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.
"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.
"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.
"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"
"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."
"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.
"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"
"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.
"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.
"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.
"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.
"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.
"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.
"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.
"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."
"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.
"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."
"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.
"You don't live here?" you asked her.
"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.
"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.
"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"
"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.
"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.
It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.
"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.
You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.
"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.
"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.
"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."
You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.
"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"
"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."
You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.
"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.
"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.
Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.
"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.
"I kept a journal?"
"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.
You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.
"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"
Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.
"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."
He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.
"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"
"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.
"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."
"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.
"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"
"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.
"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."
"And there's no cure?"
Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.
"No, there's no cure," he finally said.
You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.
"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.
"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.
"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.
"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."
Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.
"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.
Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.
"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.
"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."
Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.
"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."
"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.
"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.
"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.
"You sound pretty confident," you replied.
"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."
Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.
Joel spun around at the sound of your scream. His chest tightened instinctively, muscles tensing, ready to protect you. But when he saw you dismounting your horse in a rush—nearly stumbling—he loosened his stance just slightly.
“Joel, Joel! No way!” you called, running toward a store with a shattered display window. The glass still clung to the frame like jagged teeth. Inside, broken mannequins and splintered counters lay scattered, but your eyes sparkled with excitement. “This is amazing!”
Joel’s guard dropped without him even realizing it. The frown carved into his face out of habit softened. Your energy always caught him off guard. It had been so long since he’d seen someone simply... enjoy things. His life was all survival, one harsh day after another—but you moved through the ruins like the world still had color.
“Find something good, sweetheart?” he asked as he dismounted, walking over to calm your horse and grab the reins.
“It’s the best thing we’ve found, Joel! Look at this beauty!” you said, lifting a pink handbag with bows and rhinestones high in the air. Years ago, it would've cost a fortune and turned heads. Now, it was just another forgotten item with no practical use—no value at all.
Joel let out a dry but amused laugh. You, getting excited over a purse in the middle of the apocalypse—God, it was disarming.
“A purse?” he asked with mocking disbelief, just to get under your skin. It worked—your face immediately scrunched up in protest.
“A purse? It's more than a purse! Do you even know how badly I wanted one of these when the world still had fashion? When it wasn’t all so gray and boring?” Your voice was full of that mix of sarcasm and longing he was starting to love too much. You looked back at the bag like it held a piece of your old self, then stepped toward the supply sack to store it.
Joel stopped you before you could tuck it in.
“That’s not a supply,” he said firmly, zipping the bag closed.
“What? Joel, this is more important!” You tried again, but he caught your wrists gently—firm, but never cruel.
“That space is for food. Medicine. Stuff that’ll actually help in Jackson, darlin’,” he said, enjoying how your frustration gathered between your eyebrows. He liked the way you fought for what you wanted. Even more, he liked watching you figure out how to make him cave.
“Joel, please...” you murmured, your gaze softening as you met his eyes. He didn’t look away. Not yet. He didn’t want to give in too easily.
“If you let me take it,” you bargained, “I promise I’ll focus more during target practice. And I’ll help you with your little carving projects, okay? Please?”
Joel hesitated. The thought of you beside him—attentive, smiling, close—tugged hard at something in him he tried not to name.
He released your wrists with a quiet sigh and the barest hint of a smile.
“Fine. Put it in.”
H didn’t see it coming. With a squeal of joy, you jumped up, threw your arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek before dancing away to tuck the bag inside the sack.
“Thank you, thank you! You’re the best!” you beamed.
Joel stood frozen, the warmth of your kiss burning against his skin. You didn’t know what you’d done to him. How your simple touch had cracked something in his chest.
And when you stepped away, humming like nothing had happened, he felt something heavy settle in his gut.
Guilt.
Because something about that sweetness—about you—felt too good for a man like him.
