NotYourLoveMonkey

PART 11: THE CABIN

Joel woke before the sun had fully pushed through the blinds, the bedroom still wrapped in that soft gray light that belonged to early hours. For a moment he didn’t move. Didn’t even open his eyes all the way. He just breathed.

You were still asleep against him. Your back rested against his chest, one of his arms wrapped around your waist the way it almost always ended up during the night. Somewhere in the dark hours you’d shifted until you’d tucked into him without either of you really waking. Your hand rested loosely over his forearm now, fingers curled there like you’d claimed it in your sleep.

Joel stayed still, careful not to wake you. The room was quiet except for the slow rhythm of your breathing.

He hadn’t realized how tightly something had been wound inside him these past few days until this moment; until he woke up and felt… calm. Not the fragile calm of pretending nothing had happened. The real kind. The kind that came after everything had been said out loud.

Joel lowered his head slightly, his nose brushing the back of your hair. It still smelled faintly like the shampoo you liked, something light and clean he could never name.

He pressed a small kiss there without thinking. You shifted a little at the touch but didn’t wake. Just made a soft sound and settled deeper into him. Joel’s hand tightened gently around your waist.

A few days ago he’d been terrified he’d lose this. Lose you. Joel exhaled slowly and looked at the ceiling.

That fight had ripped something open between you. But what came after… had put it back together differently. Better. Nothing was hidden now. Not the fear. Not the love. Not the way you’d looked at him when he said the words he almost never said.

He shifted slightly so he could see your face. Your cheek rested against the pillow, hair half fallen across your face, lips parted slightly in sleep. Peaceful.

Joel studied you for a moment. It still hit him sometimes, sudden and quiet, that you were here. In his bed. In his life. In the middle of the everyday chaos that used to belong just to him and Sarah. And somehow you fit there like you’d always been meant to.

His thumb brushed lightly along your side through the sheet. You stirred again. This time your eyes opened slowly. You blinked once, clearly still halfway asleep. Then you looked up at him.

For a second you just watched him. Then the corner of your mouth lifted.

“Morning,” you murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

Joel felt something in his chest loosen again.

“Mornin’.”

You stretched a little, shifting closer instead of away, your leg sliding over his like you had no intention of getting up anytime soon.

Joel chuckled quietly.

“You got about thirty minutes before Sarah starts knockin’.”

Juliet groaned softly into his chest.

“Five more minutes.”

Joel smiled against your hair. He could give you five. Hell. He could give you anything.

The rest of Friday unfolded the way most days did in that house. Loud. Busy. And somehow slightly out of control.

Joel drove Sarah to school, the kid talking nearly the entire way there, more than half of it about the elaborate plans you and her had apparently been making for what she had officially declared Girls’ Weekend. By the time he dropped her off she had outlined menus, movie options, sleeping arrangements, and a blanket fort strategy that sounded suspiciously like military logistics. Joel had just nodded through most of it.

By the time he got to the job site Tommy was already there. And if Sarah had been excited about the weekend, Tommy was somehow worse.

Joel had barely stepped out of the truck before his brother started in.

“You seen the pictures I sent you of that place again?” Tommy asked, holding his phone out like Joel hadn’t already looked at them five times the night before.

“Yeah,” Joel said, grabbing his tool belt from the seat.

“Whole damn lake to ourselves,” Tommy continued. “Deck right over the water. Guy says the bass out there are huge.”

Joel slung the belt around his waist.

“You said that yesterday.”

“Yeah but now it’s Friday,” Tommy said like that explained everything.

Joel just shook his head and went to work.

The day passed the way workdays usually did, sawdust, noise, measurements shouted across half-built frames, but Tommy stayed in a mood that hovered somewhere between excitement and barely contained impatience. Like a puppy.

Every couple of hours he’d mention the cabin again. The lake. The boat. The fish. Joel figured if the trip didn’t happen Tommy might actually explode.

By the time they got back to the house a little after lunch the place was already buzzing again. Sarah was home from school and talking at the speed of light.

“…and Juliet said Wendy might bring her dog but only if it doesn’t chew the couch again and we’re gonna make pancakes tomorrow but I’m flipping them this time because last time she burned them and-”

Joel set his keys on the counter.

“Kid.”

She didn’t stop.

“-and we’re ordering pizza tonight and Juliet said maybe we’ll make brownies too-”

“Sarah.”

She inhaled dramatically.

Joel nodded.

“Good. Keep doin’ that.”

Tommy was already laughing.

You were somewhere upstairs finishing a call, your voice drifting faintly through the ceiling while you moved from room to room.

Joel leaned against the counter for a second, watching the scene unfold. It was chaos. But it was the comfortable kind.

After lunch he and Tommy started loading the truck. Or at least they tried to. Sarah insisted on helping, which mostly meant she followed them back and forth across the driveway narrating her weekend plans in increasingly elaborate detail while Joel double-checked the gear.

Fishing rods. Cooler. Tackle box.

Tommy carried things out of the garage two at a time, looking like a kid about to go to summer camp.

Sarah hovered nearby the entire time.

“…and tomorrow we’re making pancakes and then  we’re sleeping in dad’s room and Juliet said we can move the table outside if it’s not too cold and-”

Joel tightened the strap over the cooler. Again.

Tommy leaned against the truck watching him.

“You interrogatin’ that thing?”

Joel gave the strap one last tug.

“Making sure it stays put.”

Sarah was still talking.

“-and we’re watching movies but not sad ones because last time with the dog movie everyone cried and-”

Tommy leaned down toward her.

“Important question.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“What.”

“You got snacks?”

She pointed at the house without missing a beat.

“Pizza. And popcorn.”

Tommy nodded approvingly.

“Excellent.”

Joel shut the tailgate with a solid metallic thunk.

And that was about the moment you stepped out of the house. Phone to your ear. Already sounding like someone somewhere had made a very poor decision.

“…No, that’s not what the statute says.”

You crossed the driveway without looking at them. Then you stopped.

“…Oh, you did not just say that.”

Joel leaned back against the truck.

Tommy murmured beside him, “Here we go.”

You tilted your head, listening. 

“Did you pay someone to pass the freaking bar, or are you just that stupid?”

Tommy bent over laughing. You didn’t even wait for the reply.

“…Yeah. That’s what I thought.” You sighed. “Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

You slipped the phone into your pocket and finally looked up. Sarah was watching you like she’d just witnessed a magic trick. Then the kid leaned toward Joel with a mischievous grin.

“Well.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. Sarah crossed her arms.

“Now she’s all mine for the whole weekend.”

Joel looked between her and the house.

“Hey,” he said. “Am I a bother for you two or what?”

Sarah considered that very seriously.

“…Maybe.”

Tommy snorted.

“Kid’s honest. Gotta respect that.”

Joel gave him a look.

Tommy shrugged.

“What? I’ve seen how you hover.”

You had reached them by then and glanced between the three of them.

“…Should I be worried about this weekend?”

Tommy grinned.

“Only if you like quiet houses.”

Joel shut the tailgate with a solid thunk.

Then he looked at you.

“So,” you said. “You’re really going.”

Joel nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Tommy leaned against the truck, still smiling. “Look who finally decided to trust the rest of us.” And then he leaned his elbow on the roof of the truck and watched the scene unfold like he’d bought tickets.

Sarah stood next to him, already suspicious.

Joel shifted his weight.

“You sure you two got everything handled?” he asked you.

You tilted your head slightly.

“I managed to survive before you, you know.”

Tommy muttered, “Barely.”

Joel shot him a look.

You stepped closer. Close enough now that Joel automatically rested his hands on your hips, like that was simply where they belonged.

Sarah made a loud gagging noise.

“Oh come on.”

Tommy nodded solemnly.

“Yeah this is getting hard to watch.”

Joel ignored both of them.

“You call if anything comes up,” he said quietly to you.

“Joel.”

“I mean it.”

You smiled faintly.

“We’ll be fine.”

Joel studied your face a moment longer. Then he leaned down and kissed you. Slow. Certain. Not even slightly embarrassed.

Sarah covered her face with both hands.

“OH MY GOD.”

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you.

“You behave,” he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I think I should be the one saying that to you guys.”

Tommy made another gagging noise over his shoulder.

Sarah peeked between her fingers.

“Are you done yet??”

Joel stepped back toward the truck.

You caught his sleeve briefly before he could turn away. He looked down.

You leaned up and kissed him again, quick this time, but deliberate. Then you released him.

“Drive safe,” you said.

Tommy climbed into the passenger seat and shook his head.

“Disgusting.”

Sarah added helpfully:

“Very.”

Joel just snorted and got behind the wheel. But he was still smiling.

The truck rumbled to life. Joel backed slowly out of the driveway while you and Sarah stood on the porch watching, waving goodbye.

Tommy leaned halfway out the window.

“Don’t burn the house down!” he called.

Sarah shouted back immediately.

“Don’t fall in the lake!”

“Rude,” Tommy muttered, pulling back inside.

Joel turned onto the street, the house disappearing behind them.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Tommy reached over and turned the radio knob. Static. More static. A burst of country music. He left it there.

Joel drove. Hands steady on the wheel.

A few blocks passed before Tommy leaned back in his seat and glanced over at him.

“You know you’re whipped, right?”

Joel didn’t even look at him.

“Shut up.”

Tommy grinned.

“I’m serious.”

Joel kept his eyes on the road.

“You seen the way you look at her?”

Joel snorted quietly.

“You seen the way you run your mouth?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Just making an observation.”

Another stretch of road passed. Then Tommy added, casually:

“That kiss though.”

Joel groaned.

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” Tommy continued, enjoying himself. “Kid and I nearly lost our lunch.”

Joel shook his head.

“You’re both dramatic.”

Tommy leaned his elbow on the window.

“Nope.”

He got silent for like two seconds and then added:

“That was romantic as hell.”

Joel shot him a look.

“You say that again and I’m turnin’ this truck around.”

Tommy raised both hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright.”

Silence settled again for a moment.

Outside the city started thinning out, houses giving way to wider roads and open stretches of land. Tommy watched the road ahead.

“You did good, you know.”

Joel glanced over.

“With what.”

Tommy nodded vaguely back toward Austin.

“With her.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He kept driving. But after a second he said:

“…Yeah, I know.”

Tommy leaned back, satisfied.

The truck rolled on toward the highway. And for the first time in a long while, the quiet between the two brothers didn’t feel heavy. It felt easy.

***************

The drive took longer than it should have. Not because of traffic, oh no… Because Tommy wouldn’t stop asking him to pull over.

“Joel. Joel-slow down.”

“I’m not slowin’ down.”

“Just a minute. Look at that.”

Joel glanced over.

“What.”

Tommy was pointing at the horizon like he’d just discovered a new continent.

“The light.”

Joel kept driving.

“It’s the sun.”

“Yeah but look at it.”

Joel sighed and eased the truck onto the gravel shoulder.

Tommy was already halfway out the door.

“Don’t go far,” Joel called, like he did with Sarah.

“I won’t.”

Tommy walked a few yards into the tall grass, phone out, taking pictures like a tourist.

Joel leaned back in his seat and watched him through the windshield. His brother had been out of rehab barely a few weeks. And here he was, standing in the middle of a field, arguing with the sunset. Looking… refreshed. Joel shook his head and smiled.

They got back on the road. Twenty minutes later Tommy asked him to stop again.

“Joel-look at that lake.”

“We’re going to a lake.”

“Yeah but this one’s shiny.”

“Every lake is shiny.”

Tommy grinned.

“Still worth a picture.”

By the third stop Joel didn’t even argue. He just pulled over.

The highway gave way to smaller roads. Then smaller ones. Eventually the pavement disappeared entirely, replaced by a narrow dirt road winding through tall trees.

Tommy sat forward in his seat now.

“This has to be it.”

Joel slowed the truck. The road curved once more and then the trees opened up. And there it was.

The cabin sat right at the edge of the water, half-hidden by tall pines, a wide wooden deck stretching out toward the lake like someone had built it just to watch the sun set.

The water was calm. Glass-smooth.

The only sound was the truck engine rumbling softly as Joel rolled to a stop.

Tommy stared.

“…Well damn.”

Joel killed the engine. Then Tommy opened the door and stepped out slowly, turning in a slow circle like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“You see this?”

Joel climbed out and shut the door.

“Yeah.”

Tommy walked down toward the dock. The boards creaked under his boots. 

The lake stretched out in front of them, quiet and wide, the late afternoon light reflecting off the surface.

Tommy looked back at him.

“You realize,” he said, “if the fish here are even half as good as my buddy claims…”

Joel leaned against the truck.

“…we’re never leaving.”

Tommy grinned.

“Exactly.”

A breeze moved across the water. Somewhere deeper in the trees a bird called out. Joel took a slow breath.

The air smelled like pine and lake water. And quiet. Real quiet. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that.

Tommy clapped his hands once.

“Alright.” He turned toward the cabin. “Let’s see the inside.”

Joel grabbed the cooler from the truck bed. Then followed him up the path.

Tommy reached the porch first. The boards creaked under his boots as he pushed the door open. Joel followed him in with the cooler.

The place was bigger than it looked from the outside. High wooden ceiling. A stone fireplace that took up nearly half one wall. Big windows looking straight out over the lake. A worn leather couch that had clearly survived a couple decades of fishermen collapsing into it.

Tommy let out a low whistle.

“…Okay.”

Joel set the cooler down near the kitchen counter and looked around slowly. The place smelled like cedar and lake water. A small kitchen sat to one side, simple but clean. Two bedrooms down a short hallway. A rack by the door already holding a couple fishing rods.

Tommy walked straight to the windows.

“Joel, look at this.”

Joel stepped over beside him. The lake stretched out like a sheet of dark glass, the late sun dipping lower behind the trees.

“…Not bad,” he admitted.

Tommy grinned.

“Not bad?” He gestured dramatically. “This is heaven.”

Joel snorted softly and pulled his phone out of his pocket. No notifications. He slid it back in.

Tommy noticed.

“Relax,” he said. “They’re fine.”

“I know.”

Joel wandered down the hallway, pushing open the bedroom doors. One had two small beds and a dresser. The other had a larger bed, an old quilt folded neatly across it.

“Guess we’re sharin’ a bathroom like civilized people,” Tommy called from the living room.

Joel leaned against the doorframe.

“We survived worse.”

Tommy chuckled.

Joel checked his phone again. Still nothing. He frowned slightly, thumb hovering for a second like he might call. Then he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Tommy watched him from the couch.

“You’re doin’ it again.”

Joel glanced over.

“Doin’ what.”

“Checkin’ your phone like a teenager with a crush.”

Joel rolled his eyes.

“Shut up.”

Tommy just grinned.

Joel walked back toward the kitchen, opening a cabinet. Plates. Another cabinet. Coffee mugs.

“…They got coffee,” he muttered.

“Well now we’re definitely stayin’.”

Joel’s phone buzzed. Both of them looked down immediately. Joel pulled it out.

It was you. He opened the message. 

A photo filled the screen. You and Sarah were sprawled across the living room couch back home, a giant bowl of popcorn between you. Sarah was mid-laugh, clearly saying something ridiculous. You looked relaxed in that way you only did at home. A blanket covered both of them. The TV glow lit the room.

Under the photo you had written:

Movie night. She picked something with dragons. We’ve already eaten half the popcorn. The house is still standing.

A second message followed.

Stop checking your phone and enjoy the lake.

Joel stared at the screen for a second. Then he snorted.

Tommy leaned over.

“What.”

Joel turned the phone so he could see.

Tommy studied the photo.

“…Wow.”

“What.”

“She already figured you out.”

Joel shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“Smart woman.”

He typed back quickly.

Looks like trouble.

A few seconds passed. Then you replied:

Always.

Joel slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Tommy watched him.

“You didn’t call.”

Joel shrugged lightly.

“Nope.”

Tommy nodded once.

“…Good.”

Joel slid the phone back into his pocket.

For a moment neither of them said anything. Then Joel grabbed the cooler again, dug around inside it, and pulled out two cans. He tossed one to Tommy.

Tommy caught it midair. He looked at the label and snorted.

“Root beer.”

Joel shrugged.

Tommy popped it open.

“Thoughtful.”

They stepped out onto the deck. The boards were warm from the afternoon sun. A couple old wooden chairs sat facing the lake like they’d been there for years. Joel dropped into one of them with a quiet grunt.

Tommy leaned on the railing for a moment before sitting in the other chair, stretching his legs out in front of him.

The lake had gone quiet. Completely still. The kind of quiet you only got far away from roads and houses and people.

They both took a sip from their cans. For a while they just sat there.

Then Tommy said, almost to himself,

“Funny.”

Joel glanced over.

“What.”

Tommy looked out over the water.

“How different everything feels.”

Joel didn’t answer right away.

Tommy rolled the cold can slowly between his palms.

“Couple months ago,” he said, “I couldn’t sit still five minutes without thinkin’ about the next drink.” He looked at Joel. “Now I’m sittin’ here drinkin’ root beer in a cabin three hours from home.”

Joel snorted quietly.

“Sounds like you’re finally where you’re supposed to be.”

Tommy smiled.

“Yeah.”

But there was something softer under it. He leaned his elbows on his knees, looking out at the lake.

“…Worth it.”

Joel studied him for a second.

Tommy didn’t look restless. Didn’t look wired or distracted the way he used to. He just looked… present.

Joel took another sip of his soda.

“…You’re doin’ good.”

Tommy nodded slowly.

“Life changes when you finally stop runnin’ from it.”

Joel glanced over at him.

Tommy didn’t look back. He just tipped his chin toward the lake.

“Funny thing is,” he said, “you changed too.”

Joel frowned.

“I did not.”

Tommy chuckled under his breath.

“Yeah you did.”

Joel shifted in his chair.

“Name one thing.”

Tommy thought for a moment.

“…You let people help now.”

Joel opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Tommy grinned faintly.

“See?”

Joel rolled his eyes.

“You been in therapy two months and suddenly you’re a philosopher.”

Tommy laughed.

“Just observin’.”

Joel didn’t answer. But he didn’t argue either.

After a minute Tommy pushed himself up.

“Alright.”

He clapped his hands together once.

“Enough emotional growth for one day.”

Joel smirked.

“Thought you were observing the pretty lake and your life choices.”

“I am.” His brother grabbed a bag from the porch. “But I’m still hungry.”

They moved down toward the fire pit near the edge of the clearing. Tommy stacked a few logs together while Joel struck a lighter.

The flame caught quickly, the dry wood crackling as the fire grew. Soon the smell of smoke drifted through the cool evening air.

Tommy set up the small grill rack over the fire while Joel pulled out a wrapped package from the cooler.

“Steaks?”

“Yep.”

Tommy looked impressed.

“Well damn.”

Joel tossed him a pair of tongs.

“Don’t burn ’em.”

Tommy scoffed.

“Please.”

The meat hit the grill with a sharp hiss. Fat dripping into the flames, sending sparks up into the darkening sky.

They stood there side by side, watching the fire. No rush. No noise except the crackle of wood and the soft lap of the lake against the dock.

Joel glanced toward the water again. Then back at the fire.

“…This was a good idea.”

Tommy didn’t look up from turning the steaks.

“Yeah.” A small grin tugged at his mouth. “Told you.”

Later that night, after the fire had burned down to glowing embers and the cabin had gone quiet, Joel pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside.

He dropped his phone on the nightstand, kicked off his boots, and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck.

It had been a long day. A good one.

He reached for his phone again out of habit. There was a message waiting. Yours. He opened it.

Sarah fell asleep halfway through the movie.

A second one followed immediately.

Popcorn still in her hand.

Joel smiled faintly.

Sounds about right.

Another message appeared.

I had to carry her to our bed.

He pictured it instantly; Sarah limp with sleep, you struggling with her weight, blanket half falling off.

You’re gonna spoil her, he typed.

Too late.

Then another message came.

I miss you.

Joel stared at that one a moment longer than he meant to.

Been gone half a day.

Still counts.

He leaned back against the headboard, phone in hand.

I’ll make it up to you when I get back.

There was a short pause.

Then:

Oh?

Joel smirked.

Yeah.

You replied:

How exactly do you plan on doing that, Miller?

Joel rubbed a hand across his jaw, already knowing where this was going.

Well… First thing I’ll do is pull you into the bedroom.

Three dots appeared. Stayed there.

Joel…

He ignored the warning.

Clothes off, especially that little lace number you like to wear to tease me. Then… I’d take my time reminding you how much you missed me. 

The dots blinked again. Then your message came through.

Stop.

Joel laughed quietly.

What.

You said:

You cannot start that when you’re three hours away.

Then he went:

Why not.

You replied:

Because I am trying very hard to behave.

Joel’s grin widened.

You beggin’ me to stop?

There was a short pause.

Yes.

A second message followed immediately.

Save it for when you get back.

Joel stared at the screen, amused.

You started it…

Goodnight, Joel.

He chuckled softly.

Night, sweetheart.

The read receipt appeared a moment later.

Joel set the phone down on the nightstand and lay back against the pillow, still smiling. Yeah. He’d definitely make it up to you when he got home.

**************

The alarm went off before the sun. Joel reached out blindly and slapped the phone until it stopped buzzing.

For a moment he just lay there, listening. The cabin was quiet except for the faint creak of wood settling in the cold morning air. Somewhere outside, a bird called once.

Then Tommy’s voice came from the other room.

“You awake or dead?”

Joel dragged a hand down his face.

“Regrettin’ this trip.”

Tommy snorted.

“Yeah, right.”

Joel swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching the stiffness out of his back.

By the time he stepped into the kitchen area, Tommy was already there, fumbling with the coffee maker like it had attacked him.

“You break that thing yet?” Joel asked.

“Don’t rush me.”

Joel grabbed two mugs and leaned against the counter.

“You read the instructions?”

Tommy gave him a look.

“There were instructions?”

Joel shook his head.

“Unbelievable.”

Ten minutes later they stepped outside with their coffee. The air was cold enough to bite. A thin layer of mist floated over the lake.

Tommy took a long breath.

“…God, that’s nice.”

Joel grunted agreement.

They loaded the gear in silence for a few minutes. Rods. Tackle box. A small cooler.

Tommy pushed the boat a little farther off the dock while Joel climbed in.

“You remember how to fish,” Joel teased, “or did you forget the instructions for that too?”

Tommy climbed in after him.

“Oh relax.” He grabbed the small motor cord. “If I outfish you today I’m bringing it up every Thanksgiving for the rest of our lives.”

Joel rolled his eyes.

“You’ve been doing that since 98.”

“Because it was historic.”

Joel shoved them away from the dock with his foot. The boat drifted quietly out into the mist.

For a while they didn’t talk. The silence was just broken by the soft hum of the motor and the occasional splash of water against the hull.

The lake slowly woke up around them as the sky brightened. Tommy cut the motor and let the boat drift.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing his rod. “This is the spot.”

Joel cast his line out without comment. They sat there in the quiet. Minutes passed.

Then Tommy said:

“You call her last night?”

Joel didn’t look up.

“Texted.”

Tommy nodded.

“She okay?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy cast again.

“You’re calmer.”

Joel glanced over.

“Am not.”

“You are.”

Joel leaned back slightly in his seat.

“Maybe I’m just enjoying the quiet.”

Tommy smirked.

“That a jab for me to shut it? ‘Cause it ain’t gonna work.”

They fished a while longer. The sun had climbed just above the trees now, burning the last of the mist off the lake. The water stretched wide and calm around them, broken only by the soft ripple of their lines.

Tommy reeled in slowly, checked the lure, cast again.

Then, he said, very casually:

“So.”

Joel didn’t even look up.

“What.”

Tommy watched the float drift.

“You gonna marry her or what?”

Joel stared at the water. Didn’t answer right away.

“…Been thinkin’ about it.”

Tommy turned his head so fast the boat shifted slightly.

“Wait… what?”

Joel shrugged like it wasn’t anything special.

“Been thinkin’ about it.”

Tommy stared at him.

“You’re serious?”

Joel cast again.

“Yeah.”

Tommy leaned forward now, elbows on his knees, studying him like he’d just said the wildest thing he’d ever heard.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Joel smirked faintly.

Tommy shook his head slowly.

“You’re serious serious.”

Joel nodded once.

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I figured I’d ask Sarah first.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up.

“…You what?”

Joel glanced over.

“She’s part of it.”

Tommy stared at him another second. Then he started laughing under his breath.

“Oh man.”

Joel frowned slightly.

“What.”

Tommy shook his head.

“You realize she’s gonna shriek, right?”

Joel snorted.

“Probably.”

“No, I mean shriek,” Tommy said, grinning now. “Like full volume. Neighbors calling the cops type shriek.”

Joel chuckled quietly.

Tommy kept going, clearly enjoying the image.

“She’s gonna start jumping around the house like a lunatic.”

Joel nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Tommy leaned back again, still smiling to himself.

“…Damn.”

They sat there a moment, lines drifting on the water. Then Tommy said, quieter now,

“She’s good for you. For both of you.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. The words settled somewhere deeper than he expected.

Tommy nudged the side of the boat lightly with his boot.

“You know that, right?”

Joel looked out across the lake.

“…Yeah.”

Tommy waited.

Joel took a breath, like he was deciding how much to say.

“…She makes it easier.”

Tommy glanced over.

Joel shrugged faintly.

“Life, I mean.”

That was it. Just that. 

Tommy’s expression softened a little.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “She does that.”

Joel looked back at the water again.

Tommy added after a moment,

“And Sarah?”

Joel waited.

Tommy smiled faintly.

“She loves her. So much.”

Joel felt something tighten in his chest at that. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. 

Tommy saw it anyway. He nodded once, like that answered everything. Then his grin came back.

“Oh, by the way...”

Joel glanced over.

Tommy pointed his rod at him.

“You realize you’re gonna have to ask Bill first.”

Joel frowned.

“What.”

Tommy grinned wider.

“If you don’t, that man’s gonna cut your balls off.”

Joel blinked.

“…Oh fuck.”

Tommy burst out laughing.

“You hadn’t thought about that, had you.”

Joel rubbed his face with one hand.

“…No.”

Tommy leaned back, shaking with laughter.

“Oh man.”

Joel muttered under his breath.

“That’s gonna be awkward.”

Tommy wiped his eye.

“You’re damn right it will.”

Joel sighed, looking back out over the lake.

Tommy grinned. 

“... I’d pay to be there.” He then laughed out loud “C’mon… Relax. Bill likes you.”

Joel thought about it.

“…He tolerates me.”

Tommy laughed again.

“Well.” He cast his line back out into the water. “You better bring your best speech.”

Joel shook his head.

“Unbelievable.”

The boat rocked gently in the quiet morning.

Later, Joel adjusted the brim of his cap and leaned back slightly, watching his line drift.

The lake had gone still again. Tommy glanced sideways at him.

“You even got bait on that thing?”

Joel didn’t look up.

“Course I do.”

Tommy squinted suspiciously.

“…Lemme see.”

Joel pulled the rod back a little, keeping it out of reach.

“Mind your business.”

Tommy grinned.

“That’s a no.”

Joel sighed and reeled the line in a few inches.

“Look.”

Tommy leaned over the side of the boat, inspecting the hook.

“…That’s pathetic.”

Joel frowned.

“What?”

Tommy pointed.

“That worm’s barely hanging on.”

Joel rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine.”

Tommy shook his head.

“No wonder you haven’t caught anything.”

Joel snorted.

“You haven’t caught anything either.”

“Because I’m being patient.”

“You’re being useless.”

Tommy grinned.

“Big difference.”

Joel flicked the rod again, sending the lure out farther.

“Watch and learn.”

Tommy crossed his arms.

“Oh I’m watching.”

They sat there another minute.

Then, suddenly… Joel’s line jerked. Both of them froze.

Tommy leaned forward immediately.

“…That a bite?”

Joel slowly lifted the rod. The line pulled again.

Tommy slapped his knee.

“That’s a bite!”

Joel started reeling carefully.

Tommy was already leaning halfway out of the boat.

“Oh man, oh man!”

“Relax,” Joel muttered.

“Don’t lose it!”

“I ain’t gonna lose it.”

“Keep the line tight!”

“I know how to fish!”

Tommy grabbed the net like he was preparing for a shark.

Joel reeled steadily. The fish flashed silver just beneath the surface.

Tommy lost his mind.

“That’s a good one!”

Joel smirked.

“Not bad.”

The fish thrashed near the boat. Tommy scooped with the net and lifted it triumphantly.

“HA!”

Joel leaned back as the fish flopped inside the net.

Tommy held it up like a trophy.

“Well, well, well.”

Joel wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Beginner’s luck.”

Tommy stared at him.

“You caught it.”

Joel shrugged.

Tommy shook his head.

“That counts as my net assist.”

Joel snorted.

“That ain’t how fishing works.”

Tommy pointed the fish at him.

“I did half the work.”

“You held a stick with a net.”

“Team effort.”

Joel leaned back again, clearly pleased with himself.

“Scoreboard says one.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes.

“Oh it’s a scoreboard now?”

Joel nodded.

“Oh yeah.”

Tommy grabbed his rod again with renewed determination.

“Fine.”

He cast the line out with exaggerated force.

“We’re doing this.”

Joel smirked.

“You started it.”

Tommy leaned forward, laser-focused on the water.

“You better enjoy that lead.”

Joel settled comfortably into his seat.

“Oh I will.”

Tommy squinted at the lake.

“…Just wait.”

The boat drifted slowly across the quiet water.

Two grown men glaring at fishing lines like competitive ten-year-olds. And somewhere beneath the surface, another fish tugged at the bait.

**********

By the time they steered the boat back toward the dock, the sun had already started dropping toward the trees.

The cooler was heavy.

Seven fish. Tommy had caught four. Joel had caught three.

Which meant Tommy had been unbearable for the last half hour.

“Four,” Tommy repeated while tying the rope to the dock. “Just saying.”

Joel stepped out of the boat with the cooler.

“You said it the first ten times.”

Tommy followed him up the dock, still grinning like a kid who’d just won a trophy.

“Not my fault you got outclassed.”

Joel snorted.

“You got lucky.”

Tommy scoffed.

“Luck had nothing to do with it.”

They walked back toward the cabin, rods in one hand, cooler in the other. Tommy kept going.

“That second one? Perfect cast.”

Joel pushed the door open with his shoulder.

“You hit the water by accident.”

Tommy ignored him completely.

“And the third one-”

Joel set the cooler on the counter.

“You caught that because my line scared it.”

Tommy pointed at him.

“Excuses.”

Joel grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Reality.”

Tommy opened the cooler again just to admire the fish.

“Scoreboard says four to three.”

Joel leaned against the counter.

“Scoreboard says you’re annoyin’ as fuck.”

Tommy laughed and finally shut the lid. A little later they stepped out onto the porch again.

The lake had gone quiet, the evening light turning the water dark gold. Joel leaned his forearms on the railing. Behind him the cabin smelled faintly of smoke and grilled meat from dinner.

They’d cleaned the fish, eaten two of them, and argued the entire time about whose catch had been better.

At one point Tommy had tried to measure them with a tape measure he found in the tackle box. Joel had accused him of stretching the numbers. Tommy still claimed the biggest one had been ‘a monster’. Joel had called it ‘barely legal’.

They’d nearly knocked over the grill laughing. Now the quiet had settled in again.

Joel pulled his phone from his pocket out of habit. For a second the screen showed nothing. Then the signal bars popped back to life.

A few notifications appeared almost immediately.

Three messages. Yours.

He opened the first one. A picture filled the screen.

Sarah sat at your mom’s kitchen table with her tongue sticking out in concentration, colorful beads spread everywhere. Bracelets half-finished around her wrist.

The caption read:

Jewelry workshop.

Another picture followed.

You and Annie sitting beside Sarah, both laughing while Wendy, your best friend, held up what looked like a wildly uneven necklace.

Sarah says this one is for you. Apparently you’re ‘a man who needs color’.

Joel snorted quietly.

A third message appeared.

She also insists she’s making one for the fish you caught.

Joel leaned his elbows on the porch railing, smiling faintly at the screen.

Then another photo came through.

Sarah holding up two bracelets triumphantly, beads clashing in every possible color. Your arm wrapped around her shoulders. Both of you grinning.

Under it you had written:

Girls’ weekend update: House still standing.

Joel shook his head softly and typed back.

Bracelet better be waterproof.

The reply came a moment later.

You caught fish?

Joel glanced toward the lake.

Three.

You replied:

Sarah says she’s proud of you.

Joel huffed quietly.

Tell her I’m proud of her jewelry empire. It better be worth enough to send her to college.

Three dots appeared.

Then you sent one last message.

We miss you.

Joel stared at the screen a moment. Then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Tomorrow they’d go back. And somehow, for the first time in a while, that felt just as good as staying.

Tommy stepped out with two sodas and tossed one to him. Joel caught it.

“Tomorrow we head back,” Tommy said, leaning on the railing beside him.

Joel nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Tommy glanced toward the lake again.

“…Good trip though.”

Joel took a sip of the soda.

“Yeah.”

Tommy nudged the railing with his elbow.

“You still lost.”

Joel didn’t even turn.

“You caught one more fish.”

“That’s a victory.”

Joel smirked faintly.

“That’s luck.”

Tommy grinned.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

They stood there a while longer, watching the last light disappear behind the trees.

Joel realized something as the quiet settled in again. He hadn’t thought about work once all day. Hadn’t worried about anything waiting back home. He hadn’t even had service. Which meant he hadn’t called. Hadn’t checked in. Hadn’t hovered.

You had Sarah. And he trusted that. The thought sat in his chest like something solid. Strange how much lighter that felt.

Tommy stretched his arms above his head.

“Man,” he said, “I needed this.”

Joel nodded.

“Yeah.”

Tommy took another drink of his soda and glanced sideways at him.

“You too.”

Joel didn’t argue.

The lake went completely dark.

Tommy finished his soda and tossed the empty can lightly into the trash. Then he glanced sideways at Joel.

“…Still can’t believe it.”

Joel didn’t look over.

“Believe what.”

Tommy leaned his shoulder against the railing.

“You, getting engaged.”

Joel huffed quietly.

“Not engaged yet.”

Tommy nodded thoughtfully.

“Well.” Joel already didn’t like that tone. Tommy went on: “That’s if she says yes.”

Joel turned his head slowly.

“She’s gonna say yes.”

Tommy lifted his hands.

“Probably.”

Joel narrowed his eyes.

“Probably?”

Tommy shrugged, clearly enjoying himself now.

“I mean… we can’t rule out the possibility she laughs in your face.”

Joel stared at him, slightly panicking inside thinking about the possibility.

“She ain’t gonna laugh.”

Tommy nodded again like he was considering it seriously.

“Or maybe she just stares at you for a long time.”

Joel crossed his arms.

“She ain’t gonna stare!”

Tommy kept going.

“Or she goes real quiet.”

Joel groaned.

“Would you shut up?”

Tommy grinned.

“I’m just preparing you for all scenarios.”

Joel shook his head.

“Unbelievable.”

Tommy pointed at him.

“You ever actually asked a woman to marry you before?”

Joel opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“…No.”

Tommy nodded.

“Thought so.”

Joel leaned back against the railing again.

“She’s gonna say yes.”

Tommy studied him for a second. Then his grin softened slightly.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “She probably will.”

Joel glanced over.

Tommy smiled.

“Just messing with you.”

Joel shook his head.

“You’re an idiot.”

Tommy grinned again.

“But man…” He looked back out at the dark lake. “…I can’t wait to see Sarah when you tell her.”

Joel snorted quietly.

“Yeah.”

Tommy chuckled under his breath.

“She’s gonna explode.”

Joel smirked faintly.

“Yeah.”

And for the first time since the idea had formed in his head, saying it out loud didn’t feel strange anymore. It just felt right.

They stood there another moment, the lake completely dark now, the night settling in around the cabin.

Then Tommy glanced over.

“…You got a ring yet?”

Joel snorted quietly.

“No.”

Tommy nodded slowly.

“Alright.”

Joel frowned.

“What’s ‘alright’ mean.”

Tommy pointed at him.

“It means you better start thinking about it.”

Joel leaned his forearms on the railing.

“Yeah.”

Tommy studied him a second. Then said casually,

“I know a guy.”

Joel turned his head.

“…You know a guy.”

Tommy shrugged.

“Jeweler. Friend of a friend.”

Joel gave him a skeptical look.

“Your ‘friends of friends’ usually end with someone getting arrested.”

Tommy looked offended.

“Man, that was one time.”

“Three times.”

Tommy waved it off.

“Point is, he does good work. And he won’t rob you blind.”

Joel looked back out at the lake.

“Yeah?”

Tommy nodded.

“I’ll talk to him when we get back.”

Joel thought about it a second. Then nodded once.

“Alright.”

Tommy smirked.

“Look at that.”

Joel sighed.

“What.”

Tommy gestured toward him.

“My big brother shoppin’ for engagement rings.”

Joel muttered under his breath.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Tommy chuckled quietly.

“Too late.”

They stood there in the dark a while longer, the lake calm and silent in front of them.

And Joel realized something as he leaned against the railing… The idea of it, of asking Juliet, didn’t feel like a risk anymore. It felt like the most obvious thing in the world.

***************

The truck rolled into the driveway just after noon. Joel killed the engine and sat there a moment, stretching the stiffness out of his shoulders after the long drive.

Tommy grabbed the cooler from the back.

“Home sweet home.”

Joel stepped out and glanced toward the house.

The front door flew open before they even made it halfway up the walk.

“DAD!”

Sarah shot out of the house like a missile.

Joel had half a second to brace before she collided with him, arms wrapping tight around his middle.

“Hey, easy,” he laughed, steadying her.

“You’re back!”

“Looks like it.”

She pulled back just long enough to inspect him like he’d returned from some heroic expedition.

“Juliet said you caught fish!”

Tommy hopped down from the truck bed behind them, dragging the cooler toward the edge.

“Oh we caught fish,” he said proudly.

Sarah leaned over the cooler, curious.

Tommy popped the lid open with a flourish.

“Behold.”

He lifted one of the fish by the tail.

Sarah recoiled instantly.

“EEWWW!”

Tommy laughed.

“What? It’s beautiful.”

“It’s slimy and it stinks!”

“That’s how fish work.”

Sarah took two dramatic steps back like the thing might leap out at her.

“Put it back!”

Joel shook his head.

“Don’t scar the kid.”

“I’m educating her,” Tommy said.

Sarah pointed accusingly.

“You’re disgusting.”

Behind them the screen door creaked open. You stepped out onto the porch. You had clearly heard the chaos already.

Your eyes landed on Joel first. For a moment the noise faded around him.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey.”

Joel walked toward you without thinking about it. Up the steps. Across the porch. You barely had time to set your mug down before he pulled you into a kiss.

He meant for it to be quick. But it lasted longer than that. Your hands came up to his shoulders automatically. Joel deepened it slightly, instinctively.

Then…

“EWWWW!”

“OH MY GOD!”

Sarah and Tommy’s voices exploded at the same time.

Joel broke the kiss with a sigh.

Tommy was leaning against the truck, shaking his head dramatically.

“Right in front of the children.”

Sarah was making gagging noises.

“So gross!”

Joel turned slowly.

“You two done?”

Tommy smirked.

“Just gettin’ started.”

Sarah covered her eyes theatrically.

“I’m traumatized.”

You laughed quietly against Joel’s shoulder.

Joel shook his head.

“Unbelievable.”

Tommy shut the cooler with a thud.

“Come on, fisherman,” he said. “Let’s get these inside before Sarah calls animal control.”

Sarah pointed at the cooler again.

“I am not touching that!”

Tommy grinned.

“Oh don’t worry.” He lifted it easily. “You’re helping clean them later.”

Sarah shrieked. Joel groaned. You laughed again. And just like that, the quiet of the lake was replaced with the chaos of home.

*********

By the time the house finally went quiet, the evening had settled into that soft kind of calm that only came after a full day.

Tommy had headed home earlier, still talking about the fish and insisting he’d won.

Sarah had crashed soon after, worn out from her ‘peaceful’ girls’ weekend and the excitement of having her father back.

Now the lights downstairs were low. The kitchen smelled faintly of soap and whatever sweetness had been baked earlier. Joel leaned against the counter, drying his hands on a towel when you came down the stairs.

“She out?” he asked quietly.

You nodded.

“Out cold.”

You crossed the kitchen toward him, slipping your arms around his waist.

Joel’s hand settled at the small of your back. For a moment you just stood there, the quiet of the house around you.

Then you tipped your head back slightly.

“Well?” you said.

Joel raised an eyebrow.

“Well what?”

“Was it worth it?” you asked. “Your boys’ weekend.”

Joel thought about the lake. The quiet mornings. Tommy acting like a ten-year-old over fish. Then he looked down at you.

“Yeah,” he said. A small pause. “But I missed you.”

Your mouth curved.

“Good answer.”

Joel leaned down and kissed you.

It started slow. But it didn’t stay that way. Your hands slid into his hair as he pulled you closer, the kiss deepening without either of you quite deciding it would.

Joel’s hands moved to your hips and, with an easy motion, he lifted you onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

You laughed softly under your breath as you settled there.

“You waste no time,” you murmured.

Joel stepped closer, moving right between your knees, his hands resting lightly at your waist.

“Been patient all weekend,” he said.

You tilted your head slightly, giving him a look.

“Oh really?”

Joel leaned in again, but this time his mouth drifted away from yours. His lips brushed just beneath your ear.

You inhaled sharply.

“Joel…”

He smiled faintly against your skin. His mouth moved slowly down the side of your neck, unhurried.

Your fingers curled around his neck.

“Thought you were tired,” you said, though your voice had softened.

Joel’s hand slid lightly along your back, fingertips tracing the line of your spine below the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Not that tired.”

You laughed quietly, though it faded when his hand moved again, resting briefly at your waist before brushing across your stomach. You leaned back slightly against the cabinets, letting out a quiet breath.

“You’re trouble,” you murmured.

Joel lifted his head just enough to look at you.

“Missed you.”

You softened at that. Your hand came up to the side of his face, pulling him into another kiss, slower this time, deeper.

Joel rested his forehead against yours when it broke, both of you breathing a little differently now.

For a moment he just looked at you. Really looked. And the thought that had been sitting in the back of his mind since the lake came back again. Clearer. Steadier. Not a question anymore. 

He was going to do it. Soon. The ring. Asking Sarah. Talking to Bill, apparently. All of it.

He didn’t say any of that out loud. But the certainty settled somewhere deep in his chest.

You brushed your thumb lightly along his jaw.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked.

Joel shook his head faintly, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

“Nothin’.”

You narrowedyoureyes.

“I know that look.”

Joel leaned in and kissed you again before you could press further.

When he pulled back he took your hand, gently helping you down from the counter.

“Come on,” he murmured.

You glanced toward the stairs.

“Making it up to me now?”

Joel smirked.

“Finally.”

He led you upstairs, the quiet house wrapping around you two… And the bedroom door closed softly behind you.

PART 10 - THE TRUST

The backyard had started to feel like an extra room of the house.

Early fall meant the heat had finally loosened its grip; the air warm but breathable, the light softer, stretching long across the grass. Someone, probably you, had dragged the old string lights back up along the fence a few weeks ago, and now they blinked lazily overhead even though the sun hadn’t fully set yet.

Joel sat back in one of the worn outdoor chairs, boots planted, a beer sweating slowly in his hand. Across the yard, you and Sarah were crouched over something involving popsicle sticks, a measuring tape, and entirely too much glitter for a school night.

“…I still say we should’ve remembered our own anniversary,” you were saying, laughing under your breath as Sarah carefully sprinkled glitter like a scientist handling explosives.

“We did remember,” Joel called. “Just… late.”

Sarah looked up immediately at you. “You are such a mess.”

You didn’t even try to deny it. “Hey, we both forgot,” you said with dignity.

Joel shrugged. “Been busy.”

“Busy being old,” Sarah corrected.

You snorted.

You’d celebrated anyway. Late. Takeout, a movie after Sarah went to bed, and Joel giving you a small gold pendant he’d clearly spent weeks picking out and pretended he hadn’t. It had been quiet. Perfect. Very you.

The flower bed near the fence where Sarah decided to play next was considerably less successful. You had planted it yourself months before… and most of it had not survived the experience.

“They're dormant,” you insisted when Joel brought up removing them for the eighteenth time.

“They're dead,” Joel replied.

“You don't know that.”

“Sweetheart, they're brown.”

Sarah settled the debate by making little popsicle-stick grave markers for three of them, which you still claimed that was deeply disrespectful.

Now the evening felt settled. Easy. The kind of ordinary that had taken a long time to earn.

The side gate creaked, and none of you reacted at first; people came and went enough that it wasn’t unusual, but then a familiar voice carried across the yard.

“Y’all just gonna sit out here without me now?”

Sarah froze. Actually froze. Then she spun so fast she nearly knocked over the stick bucket.

“TOMMY?!”

He stood just inside the gate like he’d always belonged there. Duffle bag slung over one shoulder. Leaner. Cleaner. Hair a little shorter. Eyes clearer than Joel had seen them in years.

Sarah launched at him full force. He barely got the bag off his shoulder before she hit him, arms locking around his middle. He let out a surprised grunt and then laughed, a real one, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her clean off the ground.

“Well, damn,” he said into her hair. “That’s a welcome.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” she accused, already halfway to tears and smiling at the same time.

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” he said.

You reached them next, slower. Like you needed to see it properly.

“You look…” you stopped, shook your head once. “You look good.”

Tommy’s grin softened. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Then you stepped forward and hugged him. Tight. No awkwardness, and absolutely no hesitation. He returned it just as firmly, one hand coming up to the back of your shoulder in a quick squeeze that said more than words.

“Thank you,” he murmured quietly enough only you could hear.

You squeezed once in answer. Let go before it got too heavy.

Joel hadn’t moved yet. He was still by the chair. Watching. Tommy looked up and met his eyes.

For a second neither of them said anything. Months of history. Years of history. All of it sitting there between them, quieter now but not gone.

Tommy shifted his weight. Cleared his throat.

“…You gonna just sit there lookin’ grumpy,” he said, voice rough but trying for normal, “or you comin’ over here.”

Joel stood. Crossed the yard in a few slow steps. Stopped in front of him.

They stared at each other for half a second.

Then Tommy said, low, almost sheepish, “Hey, big brother.”

Joel pulled him in. Hard.

One arm around his shoulders, the other at the back of his neck, hauling him close in a grip that was more bone than gentleness. Tommy returned it just as hard, their shoulders colliding like they needed the impact to make it real.

It wasn’t graceful. Wasn’t pretty. It was the kind of hug men gave when words weren’t enough and never had been.

Joel squeezed once, rough. Let out a breath against Tommy’s shoulder.

“…Missed you, you idiot,” he muttered.

Tommy huffed a shaky laugh. “Yeah. Missed you too.”

They separated with a couple of hard claps to each other’s backs like neither of them was interested in making a scene about it.

Tommy glanced around the yard, hands settling on his hips.

“…So,” he said, like he’d just walked in from work. “What’s for dinner.”

You burst out laughing. Sarah whooped.

Joel just shook his head and muttered, “Unbelievable,” but there was no heat in it at all.

Dinner ran long. Tommy talked. Steady. Present. He ate like someone who hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in a while and didn’t plan to waste the opportunity.

Sarah filled him in on everything he’d missed. School drama. soccer scores. The anniversary she’d helped ‘fix’. He listened to all of it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Afterward, when dishes were done and Sarah finally dragged herself to bed after insisting on one more hug, one more question, one more everything; the house settled.

Tommy ended up at the kitchen table with a glass of water instead of beer. You, sitting across from him. Joel leaning back in his chair, watching both of you. No one rushed the conversation.

Tommy rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Program was… good,” he said finally. “Hard. Real hard. But good.”

You nodded once, letting him set the pace.

“They don’t let you bullshit,” he added. “Not even a little. First week I thought I was gonna walk out twice.” A small huff of self-awareness. “Wouldn’t have made it two days on my own.”

Joel stayed quiet. Listening.

“Group therapy,” Tommy went on. “Individual. Veteran meetings. Turns out… lotta guys like me.” A faint, humorless smile. “Who knew.”

Your voice stayed gentle. “You stayed.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you. Then at Joel. “I stayed.”

He took a sip and then sighed loudly.

“They set me up with a therapist here,” he added. “And there’s a veterans AA group on Thursdays. Already got the schedule.” He tapped the table lightly. “Gonna stick with it.”

Joel nodded once.

“Good,” he said.

Tommy looked at him then. Really looked. Like he needed to know where he stood.

Joel held his gaze.

“…I’m proud of you,” he said.

Simple. Rough. No decoration.

Tommy swallowed hard. Looked down for a second. Nodded once.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Tryin’ to give you a reason to be.”

You reached across and squeezed his hand briefly. 

The three of you sat there a while after that. Quiet. No big speeches left to make.

****************

Morning came quieter than the night before. Joel woke early out of habit, the house still dim with that pale blue light that came just before sunrise. For a moment he stayed where he was, one arm stretched across the other side of the bed. Empty.

He blinked once, frowning slightly, then heard movement downstairs. Cabinet doors. The soft scrape of something on the counter. He pushed himself up, dragged a hand through his hair, and pulled on a T-shirt before heading down.

You stood in the kitchen tying your hair back into a loose ponytail. You were already dressed for your run. Dark stretchy pants, worn sneakers, and one of those fitted tops that stopped just short of your waist. When you lifted your arms to tighten the elastic, the movement exposed a strip of skin across your stomach.

Joel stopped halfway down the stairs. Well now.

You turned when you heard him.

“Morning,” you said lightly.

Joel leaned against the railing, arms folding slowly.

“…You goin’ somewhere dressed like that?”

You blinked once, then glanced down at yourself.

“Running,” you said. “Like always.”

“Mm.”

You grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, completely unfazed.

Joel pushed off the railing and wandered into the kitchen, eyes still on you.

“You know,” he said casually, “I could think of a better use of the next thirty minutes.”

You didn’t even look up while you adjusted the watch on your wrist.

“Oh really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He stepped closer, resting his hands on the counter on either side of you.

“Could make it worth your while,” he added.

That got your attention. You looked up slowly, one eyebrow lifting. Joel leaned in a little, voice dropping.

“Very worth your while.”

You studied him for a moment like you were actually considering it. Then you leaned forward and kissed him, quickly. When you pulled back you were already smiling.

“Nice try.”

Joel sighed dramatically.

“Woman,” he muttered, “I am offerin’ you a perfectly respectable alternative to cardio.”

You grabbed your keys.

“You know what happens if I skip a run.”

Joel snorted.

“Yeah,” he said. “You get grumpy and start reorganizin’ the spice rack.”

“That was one time.”

“You alphabetized paprika.”

“It needed structure.”

He shook his head slowly.

“…Unbelievable.”

You walked toward the door, but paused long enough to brush your fingers lightly along his jaw as you passed.

“Make coffee for me?” you said.

Joel caught your wrist briefly.

“You’re really leavin’ me like this?”

You leaned in just enough to murmur against his ear.

“Taking a rain check,” you said softly. “I plan on collecting later,” you reached the door and opened it “Also… we both know you wouldn’t be satisfied with thirty minutes.”

Then you slipped out before he could answer. Joel stood there for a second staring at the closed door.

“…Cruel,” he muttered.

Outside, he heard the quick rhythm of your footsteps fade down the street. He made himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter, watching the early light stretch across the backyard.

It still caught him off guard sometimes. How easily you had slipped into this life. Into the house. Into the mornings. Into him.

Sarah adored you. Tommy trusted you. The house felt different when you were there. Lighter. 

Joel took a slow sip of coffee. And for a man who’d spent most of his life expecting things to fall apart sooner or later, that kind of quiet happiness still felt a little unbelievable. But he’d take it. Every damn morning.

A while later, Joel was halfway through his second cup of coffee when he heard footsteps upstairs. Heavy. Uneven. Dragging. Sarah appeared in the doorway a moment later, hair pointing in six different directions. She squinted at him.

“…I’m hungry.”

Joel chuckled.

“Of course you are.”

She stared at the coffee.

“Gross.”

He snorted and pushed a bowl across the counter.

“Eat.”

Sarah climbed onto one of the stools, still half asleep, and started spooning cereal into a bowl like someone operating heavy machinery. Joel was reaching for the milk when the back door burst open.

“Smells like coffee and poor decisions in here.”

Joel didn’t even look up.

“…Mornin’, Tommy.”

Sarah perked up instantly.

“Uncle Tommy!”

Tommy stepped inside like he’d been invited, wearing jeans, boots, and the same jacket he’d been living in lately. His hair was still damp like he’d showered five minutes ago. He spotted the coffee pot immediately.

“Oh hell yes.”

“Don’t,” Joel said automatically.

Tommy was already pouring himself a cup.

“Too late.”

Sarah slid off the stool and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“You didn’t say you were coming!”

Tommy grinned down at her.

“Didn’t know I had to schedule breakfast now.”

Joel reached past him to grab the milk.

“You do if you plan on drinkin’ my coffee.”

Tommy took a long sip and sighed like a man tasting heaven.

“Worth it.”

Sarah was already rummaging through the fridge.

“We’re out of waffles.”

“That sounds like a you problem,” Tommy said.

Joel closed the fridge door with his hip.

“You ate the last ones yesterday.”

Tommy looked offended.

“I was helpin’ reduce inventory.”

Sarah turned toward Joel.

“He ate four.”

“Three,” Tommy corrected.

“Four,” she insisted.

“Small ones.”

Joel rubbed a hand over his face.

“…Jesus.”

The front door opened just then.

You stepped inside, cheeks flushed from the run, ponytail loose and slightly messy, breathing lightly but steady. Joel took one look at you and felt his body react immediately…Yeah. That rain check was gonna be a problem.

You’d stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. Took in the scene: Sarah standing on a chair digging through the freezer. Tommy drinking Joel’s coffee like he paid for it. Joel leaning against the counter looking ten seconds from mutiny.

“…I was gone forty minutes,” you said.

Tommy lifted his mug toward you.

“Mornin’.”

You walked in slowly.

“You’re eating our breakfast again.”

Tommy shrugged.

“I’m contributing emotional support.”

Sarah held up the empty waffle box accusingly.

“He’s the reason we have none.”

You dropped your keys on the counter.

“Well,” you said mildly, “that explains the crime scene I guess.”

Joel pushed another mug toward you without looking.

“Coffee.”

You took it with a grateful hum.

“Thank you.”

Tommy eyed your running clothes.

“Joel try to convince you not to go?”

You took a sip.

“Of course.”

Sarah perked up.

“Why?”

You glanced at Joel, then smiled slightly.

“He had… other plans.”

Joel pointed his finger at Tommy without turning around.

“Don’t.”

Tommy burst out laughing.

“Oh man.”

Sarah frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Joel grabbed the waffle box from the counter and tossed it in the trash.

“It means you’re eatin’ more cereal.”

Tommy leaned against the counter, still grinning.

“This house is chaos before eight a.m.”

You took another sip of coffee, eyes flicking briefly to Joel.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “It really is.”

And Joel realized he didn’t mind that at all.

You disappeared upstairs a minute later, mumbling something about a “two-minute shower before work.”

Joel watched you go for a second. Tommy noticed.

“Man,” he said, leaning against the counter with his coffee, “you got it bad.”

Joel didn’t look at him.

“Eat your cereal.”

Tommy snorted. Sarah was still perched on the stool, crunching loudly through her bowl.

“So,” Tommy said after a moment, like the thought had just occurred to him. “Buddy of mine from the program’s got a cabin out near Lake Buchanan.”

Joel reached for the coffee pot.

“Mm.”

“Nothing fancy,” Tommy went on. “Just a little place. Dock, old fishing boat, couple rooms.”

Joel poured more coffee.

“Good for him.”

Tommy watched him a second.

“He offered it to me next weekend.”

Joel glanced at him.

“And?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Figured we could go.”

Joel frowned slightly.

“Go where.”

Tommy gestured vaguely.

“Fishin’. Like we used to.”

That made Joel pause. Not long. Just long enough. Sarah looked between them.

“You guys went fishing?”

“Used to,” Tommy said. “Your dad here used to catch the biggest ones.”

Joel scoffed.

“That’s because you kept scarin’ the fish away with your loud blabberin’.”

Tommy grinned.

“Still do.” He took another sip of coffee. “Place is only like two hours out, tops,” he added. “Quiet. Trees. No phones goin’ off every five minutes.”

Joel leaned his hip against the counter.

“Sounds nice.”

Tommy nodded.

“Yeah.” A moment passed, and then he said it plainly. “Come with me.”

Joel shook his head immediately.

“Nah.”

Sarah frowned.

“Why not?”

Joel ruffled her hair as he walked past.

“Because someone’s gotta stay here and make sure you eat something besides cereal.”

“That’s not a reason,” she protested.

Tommy watched him carefully.

“It’s two days, Joel.”

Joel grabbed the waffle box out of habit before remembering it was empty.

“Still.”

Tommy leaned back against the counter again.

“Sarah’d survive forty-eight hours without you.”

Joel tossed the empty box in the trash.

“Would she.”

Tommy tilted his head.

“You ain’t been fishing in years.”

Joel didn’t answer. Upstairs, the shower turned off. Water pipes rattled softly through the walls.

Tommy glanced toward the ceiling. Then back at Joel.

“…Think about it.”

Joel took another sip of coffee.

“I am thinkin’ about it.”

But the way he said it didn’t sound like thinking. It sounded like a no. Tommy noticed that too. He didn’t push. Not yet…

Sarah climbed into the back seat with her backpack and immediately started talking. Joel didn’t think she’d taken a breath since the front door.

“…and Emma says frogs can freeze in the winter and then wake up again in the spring.”

Tommy twisted slightly in his seat to look at her.

“That so.”

“Yeah,” Sarah said seriously. “Her dad told her.”

Joel pulled away from the curb.

“Sounds like somethin’ her dad made up.”

Sarah gasped.

“No he didn’t.”

Tommy grinned.

“Science is mysterious, Joel.”

Joel snorted. They reached the school drop-off line a few minutes later, the cars inching forward one by one. Sarah leaned forward between the seats.

“Uncle Tommy, are you coming to my soccer game Saturday?”

Tommy glanced at Joel.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

She beamed. Then the car ahead moved and Joel rolled forward. Sarah grabbed her backpack.

“Bye, Dad.”

Joel reached back and squeezed her shoulder as she climbed out.

“Have a good day.”

The truck was quiet for a minute. Tommy stretched his legs in the passenger seat.

“…She’s growin’ fast.”

Joel nodded once.

“Yeah.”

Another block passed. Then Tommy cleared his throat.

“So.”

Joel exhaled.

“No.”

Tommy blinked.

“I didn’t even say nothin’ yet.”

Joel kept his eyes on the road.

“You’re gonna bring up that cabin again.”

Tommy shifted in his seat.

“…Yeah.”

Joel shook his head.

“Still no.”

Tommy rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“C’mon, man. It’s two nights.”

Joel turned onto the highway.

“Still got a kid at home.”

Tommy leaned back against the seat.

“Juliet’ll be there.”

Joel didn’t answer. Which was answer enough. Tommy studied him.

“She’s good with Sarah,” he said.

Joel’s jaw tightened slightly.

“I know that.”

“Then what’s the problem.”

Joel stared ahead at the road.

“There ain’t a problem.”

Tommy snorted softly.

“Sure sounds like one.”

Joel tightened his grip on the wheel.

“It’s two days.”

Tommy shrugged.

“Yeah.”

Joel shook his head.

“Not happenin’.”

Tommy looked out the windshield for a moment. Then he said, quietly:

“You used to love fishin’.”

Joel didn’t respond. Just kept driving. After a moment Tommy added:

“…Just think about it.”

Joel didn’t answer… But he didn’t say no again either.

And Tommy noticed that.

***************

Joel knew the moment he opened the front door that peace and quiet were not going to happen.

“DAD!”

Sarah came skidding across the living room in socks like a small, loud tornado.

Joel barely had time to close the door before she collided with him.

“Whoa,” he said, steadying her by the shoulders. “Easy.”

“You forgot to sign my permission slip.”

Joel blinked.

“…What permission slip.”

“The museum trip,” she said urgently. “Tomorrow.”

Joel dropped his keys on the table and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Alright, hold on.”

From the kitchen, your voice drifted out.

“It’s on the counter.”

Joel followed the smell of dinner and stepped into the kitchen. You were at the stove, stirring something in a pan. Your hair was still slightly damp from your shower earlier, tied up loosely now, and you’d changed into an oversized T-shirt and leggings. You glanced over your shoulder and smiled when you saw him.

“Hey.”

Joel felt some of the day loosen in his shoulders immediately.

“Hey.”

Sarah slid the paper across the counter toward him with dramatic urgency.

“If you don’t sign it I can’t go.”

Joel grabbed a pen.

“I’m signing it.”

“You said that about the library trip and forgot.”

You snorted softly from the stove. Joel shot you a look.

“Don’t encourage her.”

Sarah watched him sign like a hawk.

“Thank you,” she said solemnly.

Joel handed it back.

“You’re welcome.”

She grabbed the paper and ran off toward the living room again, already talking about something else. Joel leaned his elbows on the counter and exhaled.

You slid a glass of water toward him.

“Long day?”

“Yeah.”

You stirred the pan once more, then glanced at him sideways.

“…That rain check still stands, you know.”

Joel looked at you.

“Does it now.”

You gave him a small, amused shrug.

“Depends how tired you are.”

Joel huffed a quiet breath through his nose.

“Never too tired for those kinds of rain checks.”

You smiled to yourself and turned back to the stove. Joel reached for the glass of water. That was when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. Tommy. Joel sighed and opened the message.

A photo filled the screen. A small wooden cabin sitting right at the edge of a quiet lake. Dock stretching out over the water. An old fishing boat tied to the side. Trees everywhere.

The caption read: Told you it was nice.

Joel rubbed his forehead. You noticed immediately.

“What is it?”

“Tommy…”

“What’s he sending you.”

Joel hesitated a second, then handed you the phone. You wiped your hand on a towel and looked at the picture. Your eyebrows lifted.

“That’s beautiful.”

Joel leaned back against the counter.

“Cabin up near Lake Buchanan,” he said. “Friend of his offered it for next weekend.”

You studied the photo another moment.

“Fishing?”

“Yeah.”

You looked up at him.

“And?”

Joel shrugged.

“He’s been trying to drag me out there.”

You glanced back at the picture. Then back at him.

“That actually looks pretty great.”

Joel shook his head.

“Not happenin’.”

You tilted your head slightly.

“…Why not?”

Joel shrugged like it was obvious.

“Two nights.”

“So?”

Joel nodded toward the living room where Sarah’s voice was drifting in and out as she talked to herself about the museum trip.

“Kid.”

You leaned your hip against the counter.

“I’m aware you have one.”

Joel ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“Just doesn’t make sense.”

You glanced at the phone again.

“It’s two days, Joel.”

“Still.”

You studied him for a second.

“You think Sarah can’t survive a weekend without you?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It kind of is.”

Joel rubbed his jaw, already annoyed with the direction the conversation was going.

“She’s eight.”

“And?”

“And I’m not leavin’.”

Your brow furrowed slightly.

“You wouldn’t be leaving her alone.”

Joel didn’t answer immediately. You saw it.

“Joel.”

He sighed.

“I just… don’t like it.”

You waited.

“For two days?” you asked quietly.

Joel gestured vaguely.

“I mean, what if somethin’ happens.”

“What exactly do you think is going to happen in forty-eight hours?”

Joel exhaled hard. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

Joel searched for the words and found the worst possible version of them. “I’m not gonna leave her here.”

The sentence landed like a dropped plate. You didn’t move.

“Here,” you repeated.

Joel realized too late how that sounded. “That’s not what I meant.”

Your voice stayed calm, but something in it had cooled. “Isn’t it.”

Joel pushed off the counter.

“You’re twisting it.”

“No,” you said softly. “I’m listening.”

From the living room Sarah laughed at something on TV.

Joel rubbed a hand over his face.

“I just don’t see the point of goin’,” he muttered.

You looked at him a second longer. Then you turned back to the stove and stirred the pan again.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you said.

Joel knew that tone. And suddenly the cabin photo on the counter felt like a much bigger problem than a fishing trip.

****************

The house settled slowly that night. Dinner had been normal on the surface. Sarah talked through most of it, describing the museum trip she was apparently going to lead personally, and you listened and smiled and asked questions at all the right moments.

Joel answered when he needed to. But something had shifted. It was just… off. By the time Sarah was finally tucked into bed and the lights in the house started going out one by one, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

You were already in the bedroom when Joel came in. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off your jewelry for the day. The lamp on the nightstand cast a warm pool of light across the room.

You glanced up when he entered.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Joel pulled his shirt off and tossed it toward the chair. Neither of you mentioned the kitchen. Neither of you mentioned the cabin.

You set the wristwatch down in the nightstand and slid under the covers first. Joel shut off the lamp a minute later and climbed in beside you.

At first you both just settled into the mattress, the house creaking softly around you the way houses always did at night.

Usually by now you would have made space for him. And Joel would move in behind you automatically, his arm sliding around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You slept like that most nights. You tucked against him, Joel wrapped around you like it was the most natural place in the world.

Tonight you stayed where you were. Facing the other side of the bed. Completely still.

Joel stared up at the dark ceiling for a while. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. But after a minute the space between you began to hurt. It wasn’t much. Maybe six inches. But it felt colder than the rest of the bed.

Joel shifted slightly, almost without thinking. Usually that would have been enough. You would drift back toward him automatically, fitting into the space against his chest like you always did. Tonight you didn’t move.

Joel lay there a while longer. He thought about saying something. About explaining. But every version of the sentence sounded wrong in his head.

I didn’t mean it like that. You know that’s not what I meant. You’re twisting it.

None of it sounded right.

Across the mattress you breathed steadily, already drifting toward sleep. Or pretending to.

Joel turned his head slightly toward you in the dark. He could just make out the shape of your shoulder under the covers. Close enough to reach. But he didn’t.

That morning you’d joked about a rain check. Joel had half expected you’d collect before the night was over. Now it felt like that belonged to a completely different day.

After a while he rolled onto his back again. Staring at the ceiling. Feeling the cold space between you. And knowing damn well he had put it there.

************

The next couple of days felt… wrong. Joel noticed it in small things. You still talked to him. Still smiled. Still asked about his day, about Sarah’s homework, about whether the truck was making that noise again.

Nothing had changed on the surface. But something underneath had shifted. You hadn’t had a fight like this before. Hell, you’d barely fought at all.

You weren't the kind of person who let things sit and rot. If something bothered you, you said it. Straight out. You’d talk it through, fix it, move on. That was how it had always worked between you. Until now. Now you were… quieter. 

Joel didn’t know what to do with that. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of a long time ago.

Sarah’s mom had been the opposite of you when it came to fights. She never said what was wrong. Never said what he’d done. She’d just go silent for days at a time, walking around the house like he wasn’t there, letting him stew in it.

Joel had hated that more than the yelling. With you it had never been like that. Being with you had felt like sailing on a calm sea after years of bad weather. Until now.

And the worst part was he knew damn well he’d caused it. He just didn’t know how to fix it.

By Saturday morning he felt like a man walking around his own house with a rock in his boot. Sarah’s soccer game didn’t care about any of that. The field was already full when they arrived. Kids running everywhere, parents setting up folding chairs along the sidelines, whistles blowing from three different directions.

Sarah’s team was warming up near the far goal.

“There she is,” you said, spotting her first.

Sarah waved the second she saw you all. Tommy waved back like he was greeting a celebrity.

“Star player,” he said.

Joel set up the chairs while you grabbed the cooler from the trunk. You settled along the sideline with the rest of the parents.

Sarah’s team took the field a few minutes later. For a while the game gave Joel something else to focus on. Kids chasing the ball in a chaotic pack, parents yelling encouragement, the occasional dramatic fall that looked much worse than it was.

You clapped when Sarah managed a decent pass.

“Nice one!” you called.

Joel noticed Tommy watching you two. Not the game. You and him. Tommy leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“…Alright,” he said finally. “What’s goin’ on.”

Joel kept his eyes on the field.

“Nothin’.”

Tommy snorted.

“Bullshit.”

You didn’t say anything. Tommy looked from one to the other.

“You two been weird all mornin’.”

Still nothing. Tommy tried again.

“Did I miss somethin’?”

Joel shifted in his chair.

“No.”

Tommy frowned.

“Did y’all fight or somethin’?”

You looked at him.

“No, Tommy.”

The tone wasn’t sharp. But it was… close. Tommy blinked slightly. He wasn’t used to that from you.

“…Alright,” he muttered, backing off. He watched the field for a few seconds, scratching his jaw. Then he changed subjects. “So,” he said, nudging Joel with his elbow, “you think about the cabin?”

Joel sighed quietly.

“Tommy.”

“I’m serious,” Tommy went on. “Jeff offered it again last night. It’s a great spot. Quiet lake, nobody around, fish big as your arm.”

Joel didn’t answer. Tommy leaned forward again, still trying.

“Two days, man. That’s all I’m askin’.”

Joel stared at the field.

“Drop it.”

Tommy frowned, confused.

“Why?”

Joel didn’t respond. Tommy gestured toward the field where Sarah was chasing the ball.

“Look, Sarah’ll be fine. Juliet’s a champ with her.”

Joel muttered low.

“Tommy-”

Tommy kept going. “Can’t she just stay with Juliet for a couple days?”

Silence. Joel closed his eyes briefly.

“…Tommy.”

You stood up. “Apparently not.”

Joel exhaled sharply. “…Fuck.”

You grabbed your keys from the chair. “I’ll be in the car.”

Right then the referee blew the final whistle.

The field erupted with noise; kids cheering, parents clapping. Sarah had scored at the last second. She turned immediately toward the sideline looking for you.

Tommy watched you walking across the grass toward the parking lot. Then he slowly looked back at Joel.

“…Oh.”

Now he understood. And judging by his face, he wished he didn’t.

The ride home was quiet. Not the comfortable kind. The kind that sat heavy in the truck, pressing against the windows. Sarah talked the whole way. About the goal. About how the goalie had almost blocked it. About how Coach Jones said she might get to play forward next week. Joel nodded when he needed to. Said ‘that’s great, baby’ at the right moments. But his hands stayed tight on the wheel. You stared out the passenger window.

Tommy sat in the back seat, unusually quiet, like a man who had finally realized he’d stepped straight into the middle of something he didn’t understand.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the silence had thickened into something uncomfortable. Inside the house, Sarah kicked off her shoes immediately.

“Did you see the way I kicked it?” she said.

“I did,” Tommy said quickly.

He clapped his hands together once.

“Hey. C’mere a second.” Sarah followed him automatically. “Wanna show me how you did it?” he asked. “Like the whole play.”

Her face lit up. “Yeah!”

Tommy glanced once toward the kitchen where you and Joel had both drifted without speaking. Then he jerked his head toward the hallway.

“Let’s go to your room,” he said. “You can draw it for me.”

Sarah grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs, still explaining the play at full speed. Their voices faded down the hallway.

The house went quiet. Joel leaned against the kitchen counter. You stood on the other side of the room, arms folded tight across yourself. Neither spoke for a moment. Joel finally exhaled.

“Tommy didn’t mean anything by it.”

You laughed once. Not amused. “I know he didn’t.”

Another silence stretched. Joel shifted his weight.

“You’re makin’ this bigger than it is.”

Your head snapped up. “Bigger than it is?”

“It’s a stupid fishing trip, Juliet.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

Your voice rose slightly. “The point is you don’t trust me with her.”

Joel shook his head. “That’s not-”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not.”

“You said it!” you snapped. “You said you couldn’t leave Sarah with me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said you wouldn’t go because you couldn’t leave her with me!”

Joel’s temper flared. “I said I wasn’t comfortable leaving.”

“Leaving her with me,” you shot back.

Joel ran a hand through his hair. “You’re twisting what I said.”

You stared at him, disbelief creeping into your voice. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, Joel.” You paced once across the kitchen, frustrated energy radiating off you. “I have been living in this house with you and Sarah for months.”

Joel didn’t answer.

“I help with homework,” you continued, voice shaking now, “I cook, I drive her places, I sit through soccer practice and school meetings and dentist appointments-”

“I know that.”

“-and she trusts me,” you pressed on. “She talks to me. She comes to me when she’s upset. We have built a relationship.”

“I know.”

“And yet somehow,” you said, voice cracking now, “I am still not someone you can leave her with for two days.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?”

“No.”

You stared at him. “What exactly would make it fair, Joel?”

He didn’t answer. You laughed again, bitter this time.

“Another year? Two? A background check? Should I submit references?”

“Juliet-”

“No, really,” you pressed. “Tell me what I have to do.”

“You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

Your voice jumped an octave.

“I am not blowing this out of proportion!”

“You are!”

You stepped closer now, tears bright in your eyes.

“This isn’t about the fishing trip!”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about the fact that you just made it very clear that no matter how much I love her, no matter how much she loves me, I will never actually count.”

Joel’s temper snapped.

“She’s not your daughter.”

The words hit the room like a gunshot. You went completely still. For a split second Joel looked like he might take it back. Instead he doubled down.

“This is my decision.”

Your eyes filled. “And that’s it?” you asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Your voice shook. “You don’t even want to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Joel-”

“This discussion is over.”

The words were loud enough to echo. You swallowed. Then you turned away and grabbed your keys from the counter.

Joel frowned. “…Where are you going.”

“I’m going to my mom’s.”

The words were tight.

“For how long?”

You shook your head, already walking toward the door. “I don’t know.”

“Juliet-”

But the front door opened. Closed. A second later the sound of your car starting filled the driveway. Joel stood frozen in the kitchen. The engine faded as you drove away.

Upstairs, footsteps hurried. Tommy came down first.

Sarah was right behind him.

“What happened?” Sarah asked.

Tommy glanced out the window at the empty driveway.

“…Your dad and Juliet just had a disagreement,” he said carefully.

Joel still hadn’t moved. Tommy looked at him.

“What the hell happened?”

Joel didn’t answer. The house felt very quiet. And suddenly very empty.

*************

The afternoon dragged. Joel tried to keep busy. He cleaned the kitchen twice. Rearranged a stack of mail that didn’t need rearranging. Walked out to the driveway and back for no reason.

The house felt wrong without you in it. Too quiet. Tommy had figured that out fast. He stayed mostly in the living room with Sarah, watching TV with the volume low.

Every now and then Joel caught Sarah glancing toward the kitchen like she was trying to read his mood. Around four he gave up pretending he wasn’t waiting. He pulled his phone out and called you. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Voicemail. Joel hung up before the message could start. He stared at the phone for a second. Then shoved it into his pocket.

From the living room Sarah’s voice carried over.

“Dad, did you see my goal? It went like this!”

Joel leaned in the doorway. “Yeah,” he said shortly.

“It was pretty good, right?”

“Yep.”

Sarah tilted her head. “You didn’t even look.”

Joel sighed and said, probably a tad angrier than he meant: “I saw it earlier, kiddo.”

She frowned and looked back at him. “You’re being a grump.”

Joel felt something inside him tighten. “I’m not a grump.”

“You kinda are.”

“I said I’m not.”

Sarah crossed her arms. “You’re mad because Juliet left.”

Joel’s head snapped toward her. “That’s enough.”

“But you made her leave.”

“She left.”

“Because you yelled at her!”

Joel felt his temper spike. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do too!”

“You weren’t even part of that conversation.”

“I heard it!”

The words landed harder than Joel expected.

“You weren’t supposed to.”

“Well I did!” Sarah stood up now. “You said you couldn’t leave me with her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I said.”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t.”

“You said you couldn’t go fishing because you couldn’t leave me with Juliet!”

Joel ran a hand over his face. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?!”

“That’s enough.”

“No it isn’t!”

Her voice cracked now. “We’re together all the time,” she said. “She helps me with everything. She makes dinner with me. We watch movies. She's the best.”

Joel stayed silent.

“So why can’t I stay with her?” Sarah demanded. “Why can’t Uncle Tommy take you fishing?”

Joel snapped. “BECAUSE I SAID SO!”

The words rang through the room. Sarah flinched. Joel pointed up the stairs.

“Go to your room.”

She stared at him. “No.”

That did it.

“Go. To. Your. Room.”

The shout cracked through the house. Sarah froze. Her face changed immediately. Shock first. Then hurt. Her eyes filled so fast it made Joel’s stomach drop. She almost never cried. Almost never. She turned and ran down the hallway.

Her bedroom door slammed. The sound echoed through the house. Joel stood there breathing hard. The silence afterward felt enormous. From the hallway doorway Tommy had been watching the whole thing. He hadn’t said a word. Now he stepped into the room slowly.

Joel still hadn’t moved.

Then Tommy said quietly, “…Well.”

Joel didn’t answer. He was still standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the hallway where Sarah had disappeared.

Tommy pushed himself off the wall and walked a few steps into the room.

“You gonna tell me what this is really about?”

Joel rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Tommy…”

“Cause I refuse to believe this is about you not trusting Juliet,” Tommy went on. “Not after everything.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “You’re one to talk.”

Tommy blinked once. “…About what?”

Joel shrugged, but there was an edge to it. “I dunno. Maybe the part where you spent the last few years drunk out of your mind.”

The words hung in the air. For a second Tommy just stared at him. Then he nodded once.

“Yeah,” he said. His voice wasn’t angry. Just steady. “I did.”

Joel didn’t say anything. Tommy crossed his arms.

“But I got my shit together. I went to rehab,” he continued. “It’s been hard as hell, it still is, every day. But I got sober.”

Joel’s eyes flicked toward him.

Tommy held his gaze. “And you know what?” There was a small pause. “It was mostly because of her.”

Joel didn’t respond.

Tommy shook his head slowly.

“I swear to God,” Tommy said quietly, “if you lose that woman because of your fucking pride…”

He didn’t raise his voice. That somehow made it worse.

Joel’s head snapped up. Tommy held his gaze.

“You remember what you were like before she showed up?”

Joel didn’t answer.

Tommy pushed off the counter and took a step closer.

“You were miserable, man.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

“You worked. You slept. You snapped at everybody who got within ten feet of you. House felt like a damn bunker half the time.”

Joel looked away. Tommy kept going.

“Then she comes along and suddenly you’re laughing again.”

Joel didn’t respond.

“You cook together,” Tommy said. “You sit outside at night. Hell, you even started listening when I talk about my stupid shit instead of just grunting at me.”

Joel’s shoulders shifted slightly. Tommy shook his head.

“And Sarah?” He gestured toward the hallway. “She looks at Juliet like she hung the moon. She loves her, man.” Silence. Tommy’s voice softened a little. “You got lucky, Joel. Real lucky.”

Joel still didn’t speak.

Tommy exhaled through his nose.

“And now you’re about to blow the whole damn thing up because you’re scared.”

The silence between them stretched. Heavy. Then Joel snapped.

“You don’t know what it feels like.”

Tommy frowned.

“What?”

“Having responsibilities,” Joel said, voice rising. “Being the one person that kid depends on for every damn thing.”

Tommy held his gaze. “Maybe,” he said slowly. “I know I’m not a dad. That’s true. But I do know a good thing when it hits me in the face.”

Joel scoffed. “You think this is about Juliet?”

“What else would it be?”

Joel paced once across the kitchen, agitated now. “You don’t get it,” he said. “It’s always been me.”

Tommy said nothing.

“School. Doctors. Bills. Food on the table. Every decision,” Joel went on, words coming faster now. “Every damn thing that kid needs.” His voice hardened. “There ain’t nobody else if I screw it up.”

Tommy watched him quietly.

Joel gestured toward the hallway.

“That’s the job.”

Tommy tilted his head slightly. “…Yeah,” he said. “It is. But you’re not alone anymore.” Joel didn’t answer. Tommy leaned forward slightly. “You’re acting like letting someone help you is the same thing as abandoning your kid.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

“I’m not abandoning anything.”

“No,” Tommy said calmly. “You’re just refusing to share the load.”

Joel looked away.

Tommy nodded toward the door you had left through.

“That woman’s been standing next to you carrying half of it for months. You just won’t let yourself admit it.”

Joel didn’t move.

Tommy studied him for a long moment. Then he said quietly,

“Man… you’re not protecting Sarah. You’re protecting the version of yourself that had to survive doing it all alone.” The words hung there. And Joel didn’t have an answer. “And instead of tellin’ her you’re scared to let someone share the load with you…” He raised his eyebrows slightly. “…you told her she ain’t the kid’s mother.”

Joel winced.

Tommy nodded once.

“Yeah.” A small silence stretched. Then Tommy said, quieter now, “You know what you should’ve said?” Joel didn’t look up. Tommy shrugged. “Somethin’ like… ‘I’ve been doin’ this shit on my own for so long I don’t know how to stop’.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.

Tommy continued. “Or maybe… ‘I’m scared if I let you carry some of it and you leave, it’ll break my heart’.”

Joel finally looked up.

Tommy held his gaze. “That,” he said simply, “would’ve made sense.”

The kitchen went quiet again. Joel stared toward the front door. Then back at Tommy. For the first time since you left, the anger had drained out of him. What was left looked a lot more like fear.

Tommy watched it happen. “…Well,” he said quietly.

Joel rubbed both hands over his face. “I’m such a fuckin’ idiot.”

Tommy didn’t argue.

Joel let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the counter. “What do I do now?”

For once, Tommy didn’t have a joke ready. He shrugged a little. “Same thing the rest of us do when we screw up. Apologize.”

Joel looked up.

Tommy jerked his chin toward the stairs. “Start with the kid.”

Joel followed his gaze. Sarah’s door was still closed.

Tommy pushed himself off the counter. “I’m gonna head out,” he said.

Joel frowned slightly. “You don’t gotta-”

“Yeah,” Tommy said gently. “I do.” He clapped Joel once on the shoulder as he passed. “This one’s yours.”

A second later the front door closed behind him. The house went quiet again. Joel stood there for a moment. Then he walked up the stairs and knocked softly on Sarah’s door. No answer. He knocked again.

“Sarah?”

A quiet voice came from inside. “…What.”

Joel opened the door slowly. Sarah was curled up on her bed with her back against the headboard, knees pulled up. Her face was swollen and her eyes red from crying. That sight hit him harder than anything Tommy had said. Joel stepped inside.

“Hey.”

Sarah didn’t look at him.

Joel sat on the edge of the bed, leaving a little space between them. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then he said quietly,

“I’m sorry.”

Sarah sniffed. “You yelled.”

“I know.” Silence. Joel rubbed his hands together. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Sarah picked at the corner of her blanket. “You never yell like that.”

Joel swallowed. “I know.”

Finally she looked up at him. “Is Juliet coming back?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Sarah’s eyes filled again immediately.

Joel felt his chest tighten. “Hey,” he said softly. “Come here.”

She hesitated. Then she scooted closer and leaned against him.

Joel wrapped an arm around her automatically. She was still sniffling.

“I heard what you said,” she mumbled into his shirt.

Joel closed his eyes. “…Yeah.”

“You said she’s not my mom.”

His throat tightened. “I did.”

Sarah pulled back slightly so she could look at him. “But she’s still… kinda ours.”

Joel didn’t have a response to that.

“She makes bracelets with me,” Sarah continued quietly. “And she helps me with math. And she watches movies with us.”

Joel nodded faintly.

“And she makes you laugh,” Sarah added. Her voice got smaller. “I don’t want things to go back to before.”

Joel froze. “What do you mean?”

“You were sad a lot,” she said simply.

Joel looked down.

“And the house was quieter,” she continued. “I like it better now.” Her fingers twisted in his shirt. “Can you fix it?”

Joel swallowed. “Fix what?”

“Whatever you did.”

The words were painfully direct.

Sarah looked up at him with wet eyes. “Please.”

Joel pulled her into a hug, and for a moment he just held her there. His chin rested on the top of her head.

“…I’ll try,” he said quietly.

Sarah sniffed again. “Try really hard.”

Joel let out a weak breath that might have been a laugh. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I will.”

***************

Joel stayed in Sarah’s room until she fell asleep. It didn’t take long. Crying always wore her out. Her breathing had gone slow and steady against his arm, her hand still fisted in his shirt like she was making sure he wouldn’t disappear too. Joel carefully untangled himself and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. For a moment he just stood there looking down at her. Then he turned off the lamp and stepped into the hallway.

The house felt different now. Quieter. He walked back to the kitchen automatically, like he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Your mug was still on the counter. Half a cup of tea gone cold. Joel stared at it for a second before picking it up and rinsing it in the sink. Then he stopped halfway through and set it back down.

The silence pressed in again. He checked his phone. Nothing. No message. No missed calls. He wondered briefly if he should call you again. Then decided he probably shouldn’t.

He leaned his hands against the counter and stared out through the dark window above the sink. Minutes passed. Maybe more. At some point he sat down at the table. Then got up again. Walked to the living room. Turned the TV on. Muted it almost immediately. Turned it off again.

He was standing in the middle of the room when he heard it. Headlights sweeping briefly across the front windows. Joel froze. The sound of a car engine outside. His chest tightened instantly. A door closing. His heart kicked once, hard.

Joel moved before he even realized it, crossing the living room in four quick strides. By the time he reached the front hallway the front door was opening. You stepped inside. The porch light spilled in behind you. Your eyes were red. But your face was calm. Joel felt the tension that had been sitting in his chest all evening loosen all at once.

You’d come back. He hadn’t been sure you would. You closed the door behind you and set your keys on the small table by the wall. Only then did you look up at him. Joel was still standing a few feet away, like he wasn’t sure if moving closer would break something fragile between you.

You broke the silence first.

“I went to my mom’s.”

Joel nodded once.

“I figured.”

You slipped off your jacket and hung it on the back of the chair by the door. The movement was slow, deliberate, like you were giving yourself something simple to focus on. Joel watched you the whole time.

When you turned back toward him, the porch light behind the curtains caught the redness in your eyes.  You looked tired. Not angry. That worried him more.

“My mom made tea,” you said quietly. “And sat me down.”

Joel didn’t say anything.

You let out a small breath. “She’s very good at… putting things into perspective.”

Joel shifted his weight slightly.

You folded your arms loosely, more to hold yourself together than to defend. “She asked me a couple questions,” you continued. “About what actually upset me… And about what part of it was mine… and what part wasn’t.”

Joel felt his stomach tighten a little.

You looked at the floor for a moment, then back at him. “She reminded me that you’re right, Sarah isn’t my daughter.”

The words were calm. Measured. Joel’s chest tightened anyway.

“She said that means some decisions about her are always going to be yours.” You shrugged faintly. “And she’s right.”

Joel frowned slightly. You kept going before he could interrupt.

“I think I got… carried away earlier.” Your voice didn’t shake. But there was something restrained underneath it. “She’s your kid,” you said quietly. “You’re the one responsible for her.”

Joel stared at you.

“And if you’re not comfortable leaving her with someone,” you continued, “that’s your call to make.”

A moment passed. The distance in those words sat heavily in the room. You lowered your eyes briefly.

“I’ll try to get past it,” you said.

Joel’s chest tightened. You weren't angry. You were stepping back.

You looked up again. “I just… need a little time.” Another pause. “I didn’t realize how much that would hurt,” you admitted softly.

Joel felt something twist sharply in his chest. You held his gaze, steady.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to completely get over it,” you said.

The words were gentle, but they landed like a blow. And in that moment Joel understood something that made his stomach drop. You thought he had meant it. That you didn’t belong in that part of their lives.

Joel took a slow step toward you.

“That ain’t what I meant.”

You didn’t move. You just watched him, waiting.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking like a man who had been dropped into a conversation he didn’t know how to finish.

“I know that’s how it sounded,” he muttered. You didn’t interrupt. Joel paced once across the living room, restless. “I said the worst possible thing I could’ve said… And I know that.”

Your voice stayed quiet. “Then why did you say it?”

Joel stopped. He stared at the floor for a second before answering. “Because I panicked.”

That made you blink. Joel let out a breath.

“I been doing this alone for a long time, Juliet.” He gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “Every decision. Every mistake. Every damn thing that kid needs.” Joel shook his head, frustrated with himself. “And somewhere along the way I got it in my head that if I let somebody else carry any of that…” He hesitated. “…then I ain’t doing my job.”

Your expression softened slightly, but you didn’t speak.

Joel ran a hand through his hair. “You asked me why you couldn’t stay with her,” he continued. “And instead of tellin’ you the truth…” He scoffed bitterly. “…I turned it into something ugly.”

Your voice was careful. “What was the truth?”

Joel finally looked at you. His voice dropped. “I don’t know how to stop doin’ it all myself.”

The words hung there between you. Joel gestured helplessly.

“You moved in here and started helping with everything and… I didn’t even notice how much lighter it got.”

Your throat moved.

Joel shook his head again.

“And I swear to God,” he said quietly, “if you think I meant that you don’t belong with us…” He shook his head. “…then I screwed up way worse than I thought.”

Silence filled the room again. But it felt different now. Less sharp. Less final. Joel didn’t move closer. He just stood there, waiting. Because for the first time all day… He had actually said what he meant.

You looked at him for a long moment. The hurt was still there. That hadn’t vanished. But the distance you’d walked in with… had shifted.

“You really scared me today,” you said quietly.

Joel nodded. “I know.”

“I thought…” you stopped, searching for the words. “I thought maybe I had misunderstood everything.”

Joel frowned slightly. “About what.”

“About where I fit here.”

Joel took another small step toward you. “You didn’t misunderstand that.”

You held his gaze. “Because when you said she wasn’t my daughter,” you said carefully, “what I heard was that I wasn’t really part of this.”

Joel’s jaw tightened. “That ain’t true.”

You watched him.

Joel rubbed his hands over his face, frustrated with himself again. “I told you,” he muttered. “I panicked.”

A quiet moment passed. You looked down briefly.

“I know she’s your daughter,” you said softly. “I’ve never tried to take that place. And if it felt like I did, I’m sorry.”

Joel shook his head immediately. “I know you haven’t.”

You looked back up. “I just… love her. So much,” you said.

Joel nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

You let out a small breath. “And when you said that earlier…” you added, “it felt like you were telling me I shouldn’t.”

Joel closed the last bit of distance between you. “That ain’t what I was sayin’.”

You studied his face, like you were trying to measure whether you believed that.

Joel hesitated. Then he said it. Rough. Quiet. Almost like it surprised him too. “…I love you.” Joel held your gaze, steady. “I don’t say that much,” he added gruffly. “But it’s true.”

The room went very still.

“I love you,” he repeated. “And I love the way you are with Sarah.” His voice softened a little. “That kid loves you.”

Your composure cracked just slightly at that.

Joel continued, slower now. “I ain’t scared of you hurting her,” he said. “Not really.” There was a small pause. “I’m used to carryin’ everything myself,” he said quietly. “If I let you carry some of it…” He shook his head a little. “…and then you’re gone one day…”

He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to. Silence filled the room again. But this time it felt fragile.  Joel shifted his weight slightly, like standing still suddenly felt too exposed. He rubbed his thumb across his palm, a nervous habit he barely noticed.

“…you should know’,” he said finally. You didn’t interrupt. Joel glanced toward the hallway for a second before looking back at you. “About today. About what I said.” His jaw tightened slightly. “That was… the worst possible way I could’ve put it.”

You watched him carefully.

Joel exhaled slowly. He looked up at you again.

“From the start. I’ve always been terrified that one day you’d decide that you were done playing house with us, that you didn’t sign up for so much. But…” Another breath. “You should know. If I trust someone to stay…” His voice softened. “…that’s you.”

For a moment you didn’t react. Then something in your expression shifted. 

Joel watched you carefully, like a man standing on thin ice who wasn’t quite sure if it would hold.

“And…” he added, quieter. Joel looked down at the floor for a second before finishing the thought. “…God, I hope you do.” He shook his head faintly, like he hated how exposed he sounded. “Because I don’t…” He stopped, corrected himself. “…I ain’t real sure I’d know how to live without you anymore.”

Your breath caught almost imperceptibly.

Joel looked up at you again. “And I don’t think I’d want to know.”

The room went quiet. Then you stepped forward. Straight into him. Your hands caught his shirt first, bunching the fabric at his chest before your arms slid around him.

Joel froze half a heartbeat. Then his arms came around you automatically, strong and tight, like he’d been holding that back for hours.

He buried his face against the side of your head with a long exhale. The tension that had been wound through him all day finally loosening.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair.

You didn’t answer right away. You just held him. One hand sliding up the back of his neck, fingers curling into his hair the way you always did when you were trying to calm him down.

After a moment you leaned back just enough to look at him. Your eyes were still a little red. Joel’s hands were still at your waist, like he hadn’t quite convinced himself you were really there yet.

You studied his face for a second, searching it. Then you reached up and pulled him down by the front of his shirt.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was the kind that came after too much fear, too much anger, too many hours thinking the other person might be gone. Your mouth crashed into his and Joel answered instantly, one hand sliding up to the back of your neck as he pulled you closer.

For a moment the rest of the house disappeared. The argument. The silence. The knot that had been sitting in his chest for two days. Gone. When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing a little heavier.

You kept your forehead resting against his. Joel’s thumb brushed absently along your side.

“…I’m going,” he said quietly.

You frowned faintly. “Going where?”

“With Tommy. That fishing trip.”

Your eyes searched his again. “I don’t want you doing that because of me.”

Joel shook his head immediately. “It ain’t because of you.” Then his mouth softened. “It’s thanks to you.” Joel shrugged a little, like he wasn’t entirely comfortable explaining it out loud. “He’s been tryin’ to drag me out there for years,” he admitted. “And I kept sayin’ no.”

“Why?”

Joel huffed quietly. “Because I’m used to bein’ needed here every second.” He looked at you again. “But Tommy was right about somethin’.”

You tilted your head.

Joel’s hand tightened slightly at your waist. “Now you’re here. With Sarah.”

Your expression shifted.

Joel continued, voice low but steady. “And if I can’t trust you with her…” He shook his head faintly. “…then I ain’t learned a damn thing.”

You stared at him for a moment. “You’re sure?”

Joel didn’t hesitate. “Positive.”

Your eyes searched his face. “Hundred percent?”

“Yes.”

Something in you finally settled. You grabbed his jaw and kissed him. Harder this time.

Joel let out a quiet breath against your mouth before kissing you back just as fiercely, one arm tightening around your waist and pulling you flush against him. Your fingers slid into the back of his hair, holding him there.  You broke apart only long enough to breathe before you leaned in again, slower this time but no less intense.

When you finally separated for real, you rested your forehead against his. “…Wait, wait.”

Joel blinked down at you. “What.”

You leaned back just enough to see his face properly, eyes narrowing with sudden realization. “…So you’re telling me you got relationship advice, actual good relationship advice… ” Joel already looked tired. “…from Tommy.”

He sighed. You shook your head slowly, incredulous.

“Wow.” you chuckled. “You’re fucked.”

Joel huffed a laugh under his breath and dropped his forehead against yours again. “Yeah,” he muttered.“That was about his wording too.”

Joel was still looking down at yoi when the smile faded from your mouth.

The air between you had shifted again. Your hands were still resting against his chest. Joel noticed the way your breathing had slowed. The way you were looking at him now. Different.

He swallowed.

“…What,” he asked quietly.

You shook your head faintly. “Nothing.”

But you didn’t move away. Joel’s hand slid from your waist to the small of your back almost without him realizing it.

“Darlin’...”

You kissed him again before he finished the sentence. This one slower. Deeper. Not desperate like before. Intentional.

Joel let out a quiet breath into the kiss, one arm tightening around your waist and pulling you closer. His hand slid up your back, fingers spreading across your shoulder blades like he needed to make sure you were really there. When you broke apart, both of you were breathing a little heavier. You rested your forehead against his again.

“…Sarah’s asleep?” you murmured.

Joel nodded. “Yeah.”

Neither of you moved for a second. Then you added quietly: “You still owe me that rain check.”

Joel blinked once. Then a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Do I.”

Your fingers slid lightly along the front of his shirt. “You said you’d make it worth my while. Very worth my while if I’m not mistaken.”

Joel glanced instinctively toward the hallway leading to Sarah’s room. Then back at you. “…We’re gonna have to be real quiet.”

Your mouth curved. “I’m a lawyer,” you whispered. “I’m excellent at discretion.”

Joel huffed softly under his breath. Then he kissed you again. This time he didn’t stop.

“You’re trouble,” he murmured.

“You like trouble.”

“That I do.”

You kissed him again. This time Joel didn’t hold back. One hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, the other tightening at your waist as he deepened the kiss, slow and hungry, like he was making up for the last two miserable days all at once.

You laughed softly against his mouth when he started steering you backward. “Joel,” you whispered.

He paused just long enough to murmur against yoir lips: “…Bedroom.”

You nodded once, then moved through the dim house quietly, half-kissing, half-laughing, bumping into the wall once before Joel caught you again, his hands warm and steady at your sides.

When the bedroom door closed (and locked) behind you, the rest of the house fell away. His hands were already at your clothes, impatient, fingers tugging at fabric like the last two days had finally snapped something loose in him.

“Joel-”

“Mm.”

He didn’t even look up, already pulling your shirt over your head.

You laughed under your breath. “Wow.”

Joel’s hands moved to the waistband of your leggings, dragging them down your hips with very little ceremony.

“Someone’s in a hurry.”

He finally looked up at you then, eyes dark, jaw tight. You raised a brow.

“What happened to your famous patience?”

Joel’s mouth brushed your shoulder as he muttered: “No time.”

You snorted softly, fingers already working at the buttons of his shirt. “Well,” you murmured, leaning into him again, “good thing I came prepared.”

And the teasing didn’t slow him down even a little. He pushed you down onto the mattress, following you immediately after disposing of his own pants.

You barely had time to laugh before Joel’s mouth found your neck again, slowly this time, the urgency from before giving way to something deeper. His lips moved downward, unhurried now, tracing a wet path from your throat to the curve of your breast. Your fingers slid into his hair as you let out a soft breath.

Joel paused there for a second, forehead resting briefly against your skin.

“Fuck…” he murmured, voice rough. “I missed this.”

His hand followed where his mouth had gone, brushing your nipple, rougher now, familiar and confident as he moved over you. You gasped softly, your back arching instinctively against him.

Joel’s mouth lingered at your breast, slow and unhurried now, like he was making up for every second he’d spent missing you. One of his hands tightened gently against your side, holding you steady as you shifted beneath him.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders, a quiet breath escaping you as you tried, not very successfully, to stay silent. Joel felt it immediately. He huffed a low laugh against your skin.

“You’re teasing,” you whispered, breath still uneven. “That’s cruel.”

Joel lifted his head just enough to look at you.

“Teasing?” he said, feigning innocence. “Why? What do you want, darlin’?”

You let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. “You know exactly what I want, you arrogant, little-”

The rest of the insult died halfway out of your mouth. Because Joel suddenly bent lower and dragged his tongue slowly across your folds, suckling on your clit. You jerked, a strangled sound escaping you before you clamped a hand over your mouth.

Joel looked up at you, eyes gleaming with pure trouble. “…That what you meant?”

You glared down at him, breath still uneven. “I’m so getting back at you for this later.”

Joel didn’t even look worried. “Can’t wait.”

His fingers teased at your entrance and, when he finally got one inside you, he began to stroke you  slowly, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. He felt your body tightened around him, your fingers gripping the sheets beside you. He knew you were close.

Your head finally fell back against the pillow as the tension finally broke through you. A breath tore from your throat, rough and unguarded, your body trembling as the last of it rolled through you. Joel held you there for a moment, feeling the aftershocks fade beneath his hands. He looked down at you, breath still uneven.

“Worth your while yet?”

Your lips curved slowly. “No…” you murmured.

Then you pulled him down into a kiss. It was deep and hungry, the kind that left no doubt you weren't finished with him. Your hand slid down his stomach, deliberate and slow, and Joel felt the promise in it immediately. You broke the kiss just enough to whisper against his mouth:

“…but it will be.”

Before he could react, you pushed him back onto the mattress and slipped down beside him. Your hand slid over him first, slow and deliberate, making Joel suck in a sharp breath.

Then you moved lower, and Joel’s head tipped back against the headboard as he realized exactly what you were doing. You took his deliciously hard cock in your right hand and began stroking him softly.

“Juliet…” he murmured, already half-wrecked by it.

“Ohh… not so cocky now, are you?”

Joel huffed a quiet laugh. “Funny you should say it like that…”

But the words cut off halfway when you dipped lower, and his head fell back against the pillow. Your mouth tightened around the tip of his length and Joel forgot how to think. He grumbled something that wasn’t even close to words, and when you laughed, the vibration made him groan.

“I thought the plan was to stay quiet,” you whispered, your hand still moving lazily over the base of his cock.

“I’m not real good at remembering plans when you do that, sweetheart,” he said, voice rough as you resumed, tracing your way slowly along him, bottom to top, before taking him fully in your mouth again.

Joel’s hand slid to the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. He let out a shaky breath.

“Jesus, fuck, Juliet…” he muttered. His thumb brushed lightly against your hair as he added, voice rough, “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

He tugged lightly at your arm. “Hey.”

You looked up.

Joel’s mouth curved faintly. “Get up here.” He caught your wrist gently and drew a slow breath. “…You gonna ride this cowboy?”

You blinked up at him for half a second. Then a slow smile spread across your face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You swung a leg over him and settled on his hips, hands braced lightly against his chest.

At first you moved slowly against him, testing the rhythm, a soft brush of your wetness that made Joel’s breath hitch. His hands slid up your sides before settling at your chest, stroking your nipples lazily like he had no intention of rushing this.

“You’re being a tease…”

“You love it,” you murmured, a playful smile on your lips.

Joel looked up at you. “I love you.”

The words hung between you, heavier than the teasing that had come before.

For a second you just stared at him, something in your expression softening, the last of the tension from the past days finally melting away. Then you leaned down and kissed him, slow and deep, like you needed to feel that sentence again.

When you pulled back, you sank slowly into him, the playful edge gone now, replaced with something warmer. He moaned into your mouth, the sound swallowed by a kiss.

For a moment you stayed perfectly still, your warmth enveloping him, eyes closing as you held there, letting the closeness of it sink in. Then you began to move, slowly at first, finding a careful rhythm. Your breath caught, and you bit your lip, fighting to stay quiet in the dark house. Joel thought he might come just from that sight of you alone.

Then you began to move faster, steadier, finding a rhythm that made Joel’s breath catch. His hands found your hips instinctively, holding on as the movement between you deepened.

“God… I love you,” he murmured, voice rough.

His body answered yours without thinking, matching your pace, pulling you closer. He felt himself sliding even deeper. You leaned forward then, needing the closeness, until your chest pressed against his and your foreheads nearly touched.

He felt your rhythm start to falter. Joel knew that sign by heart. His hands tightened slightly at your hips before one of them slid between your legs, his touch gentle now but deliberate. Your breath caught.

“Joel…”

He leaned closer, voice low against your ear. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured. “Come for me.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you fought to stay quiet, your breath hitching again and again until you finally broke, a small, strangled sound escaping you as you buried your face against his neck.

Joel held you there, feeling the tremor run through you.

Watching you come undone like that was enough to push him over the edge a few strokes after.

He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing hard but silent, his arms tightening around you as the moment passed.

For a moment you just stayed there, tangled together. The only sound left in the room was your breathing, still uneven in the quiet darkness.

You shifted slightly where you lay against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

Then you let out a soft, breathless laugh.

“So,” you whispered, “this is what people mean when they say make-up sex, huh?”

Joel was quiet for a second. Then he muttered, voice rough with sleep and satisfaction:

“…Hell of a way to end an argument.”

You lay half on top of him, your breathing slowly returning back to normal.

Joel watched the ceiling for a while. Then he spoke.

“I’m goin’ with Tommy.”

Your hand paused. You lifted your head just enough to look at him.

“To the cabin?”

“Yeah.”

A small silence followed. Then you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his chest.

“Good,” you murmured.

Joel’s hand slid into your hair.

“Figured it was time.”

You rested your cheek back against him.

“…Sarah and I will survive.”

Joel huffed quietly.

“I know.”

Another quiet moment passed. Then you added, half amused:

“Tommy’s going to be insufferable when he finds out.”

Joel snorted. “Yeah.”

But his arm tightened around you anyway.

PART 9 - THE CRACK

Joel slept light. Always had. Years of early mornings, job sites, and a kid who used to wake at ungodly hours had wired it into him permanently. Even now, with the house quiet and the day behind him, some part of his mind stayed half-alert.

But tonight… he was out.

You lay tucked against him, warm and familiar, your back pressed into his chest, his arm heavy around your waist. The fan hummed softly overhead. The faint glow of the alarm clock painted the room in dim red numbers.

His nose was buried lightly in your hair, breathing slow, steady. One leg tangled with yours beneath the sheets. The kind of sleep that only came when everything felt right.

Then the phone rang. It cut through the dark like a blade.

Joel jerked awake instantly, heart slamming hard against his ribs before his brain caught up. For half a second he didn’t know where he was. Then the room settled back into focus. You shifted in his arms with a soft, disoriented sound.

The phone kept ringing. Nightstand. His side. Joel groaned under his breath and reached blindly, fumbling until his hand closed around it. The screen lit up harsh and bright in the dark.

He went still. Every muscle in his body tightened at once.

You felt it immediately. You pushed up onto one elbow beside him, hair mussed, voice thick with sleep. “…Joel?”

He swallowed once and answered.

“Yeah.”

The voice on the other end was professional. Flat. Tired in that middle-of-the-night way.

“Is this Joel Miller?”

His grip on the phone tightened. “Yeah.”

“Sir, this is officer Davidson with the Austin Police Department. We have a Thomas Miller here at central booking requesting you come down. There’s been an incident this evening. He’s being held pending possible charges. He asked that you be notified.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly. Of course. Of fucking course.

“…He hurt?” Joel asked, voice already rough.

A small pause. Papers shuffling on the other end.

“He’s been involved in an altercation. Some visible injuries. Nothing life-threatening as far as we can tell.”

Joel sat up fully now, already swinging his legs off the bed. You pushed yourself upright beside him, fully awake now, reading his face before he even spoke.

“Yeah,” Joel muttered into the phone. “Alright. I’m comin’.”

Another pause. Then the officer added, almost casually:

“Sir, I’d advise you bring legal counsel. The other party is likely pressing charges. If Mr. Miller doesn’t retain representation, one will be assigned but he’ll have to wait here until tomorrow morning.”

Joel’s jaw set. “Yeah. Got it.”

He hung up before the man could say anything else.

The room went quiet again except for the faint hum of the fan. You watched him in the dark.

“…Tommy?”

Joel scrubbed a hand down his face hard. “Yeah.”

He stood, already reaching for his jeans on the chair. Movements clipped. Efficient. Angry under the surface in that tight, controlled way you’d learned to recognize.

“What happened?”

“Bar fight, sounds like.” His voice was flat. “He’s at county. They’re talkin’ charges. Shit.”

You absorbed that quickly. Fully awake now.

“Did they tell you to bring a lawyer.”

Joel paused halfway through pulling on his shirt and looked at you.

“…Yeah.”

The look that crossed your face then wasn’t sleepy or confused anymore. It sharpened. Focused. Something cool and precise sliding into place behind your eyes.

“Okay,” you said simply.

Joel blinked once. “Okay what.”

“I’m coming.”

He shook his head immediately. “You don’t gotta-”

“I know.” You stood and reached for clothes in the dim light, already moving. “I’m coming anyway.”

There wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in your tone.

Joel watched you for a second, jaw tight.

“…Juliet.”

You pulled on a sweater, fingers quick but steady. “They said to bring a lawyer, Joel, I’m a lawyer.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose. Couldn’t argue with that. Didn’t really want to.

“…Alright,” he muttered.

Then his eyes flicked toward the hallway automatically. Toward Sarah’s room. Both of you stilled. You couldn’t just leave her.

You caught the look and nodded once. Already thinking ahead. “I’m calling my Mom.”

Joel hesitated. Shame flickering across his face before he could hide it. It was past two in the morning. Calling Annie for this… Christ.

You touched his arm lightly. “She won’t mind.”

He huffed under his breath. “Still.”

“Joel.”

He met your eyes. Saw no judgment there. None. Just calm certainty.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Alright.”

You grabbed yout phone and stepped into the hallway to make the call while he pulled on his boots. He could hear your voice low and soft in the kitchen, explaining just enough. Apologizing even though you didn’t need to.

Annie must’ve agreed immediately, because you came back less than a minute later already tying your hair up.

“She’s on her way.”

Joel nodded once. Relief and embarrassment twisting together in his chest.

You moved around each other in quiet efficiency; grabbing keys, wallets, jackets. The house felt different now. Too bright. Too awake for the hour.

Within fifteen minutes, headlights swept across the front windows. Joel opened the door before Annie even knocked.

She stepped inside in a cardigan thrown over sleep clothes, hair hastily pulled back, expression alert but calm. Her eyes went first to you, then to Joel.

“Is he alright?” she asked gently.

“Yeah,” Joel said. “Just… in some trouble.”

She nodded once like that told her everything she needed to know.

“I’ll stay with Sarah,” she said simply. “Don’t you worry about anything here.”

Joel rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, suddenly feeling about seventeen instead of a grown man.

“…I’m sorry. Wakin’ you up like this.”

Annie’s expression softened.

“Joel,” she said quietly. “Don’t you dare apologize to me, we are family.”

It settled heavier than she probably realized.

He swallowed once and nodded. “Thank you.”

She squeezed his arm briefly. Warm. Steady. No judgment.

“Go,” she said.

You grabbed your bag. Joel grabbed the truck keys. The night air hit cool and sharp as you stepped outside together. By the time you pulled away from the curb, the house lights were already dimming again behind you.

You drove through the empty Austin streets toward the sheriff’s station. Toward Tommy.

********

The station was colder than it needed to be. Fluorescent lights. Pale tile. The kind of place designed to make people feel small and tired.

Joel pushed through the glass doors first. You right beside him. The deputy at the desk looked up, mildly annoyed at 2:42 AM.

“Thomas Miller,” Joel said.

The deputy typed something slowly.

“Yeah. Holding.”

You stepped forward half a pace. Calm. Polite. Controlled.

“I’m counsel,” you said. “Juliet Harper.”

The deputy’s eyebrows flicked up briefly at that, but he didn’t comment.

“Other party pressed charges,” he said. “Assault causing bodily injury.”

Your voice stayed level. “Has my client been formally charged?”

“Pending.”

“Has he been read his rights?”

A pause. “Yes.”

“Has he signed anything?”

“No.”

“Has he been medically evaluated?”

Another pause. “He declined.”

You didn’t blink.

“He declined, or he wasn’t offered?”

The deputy’s jaw tightened slightly. “Ma’am-”

Joel felt it shift right there. The temperature of the room. You didn’t raise your voice. Didn’t sharpen your tone. You just held the man’s eyes steadily.

“I’ve been told my client has visible head trauma,” you said calmly. “If he was not properly offered medical evaluation, that becomes an issue.”

Silence.

The deputy cleared his throat. “He was treated on site.”

“By whom?”

“EMS.”

“Documented?”

Another pause. Joel saw it. The crack.

You nodded once. 

“We’d like to see him.”

They led you to a holding room.

Tommy was sitting on a bench behind a half-door barrier this time. Not just waiting. Processed.

His lip was split. One eye swollen almost shut. Dried blood at his temple. Shirt torn at the collar.

Joel stopped dead for half a second. You didn’t.

You walked straight up to the barrier and crouched slightly to see him at eye level.

“Who hit first?” you asked.

Tommy blinked. “Hi to you too.”

“Tommy.”

He looked at Joel briefly, then back at you.

“He swung first,” he muttered. “I finished it.”

You inhaled slowly.

“Witnesses?”

Tommy shrugged. Winced. “Bouncer saw it. And plenty other customers. Place was packed”

You stood and turned back toward the deputy.

“Was the other individual detained?”

“He was treated and released.”

You tilted your head slightly.

“Released.”

“Yes.”

“Despite initiating the physical altercation?”

The deputy shifted his weight. “Ma’am, the other individual retained counsel immediately.”

Joel felt something hot and ugly rise in his chest.

Your tone changed, not louder, but colder.

“So let me clarify. Two men fight. One has visible injuries. One hires a private attorney quickly. The one with representation is released. The other is detained.”

The deputy stiffened. “That’s not-”

“Was there a field sobriety test administered to both parties?”

Silence. Your eyes didn’t move.

“Were statements taken from both parties before detention?”

Another pause.

Joel saw it now, the imbalance. Tommy hadn’t refused medical help. He hadn’t been offered properly. The other guy hadn’t been held. And now charges were being pushed.

You folded your arms loosely.

“I’ll need the incident report number,” you said. “Body cam footage confirmation. And the name of the supervising officer on duty.”

The deputy hesitated.

Joel felt a strange mix of pride and fury watching you. This wasn’t even your field of expertise. Tommy watched too, different expression on his face now. Less bravado, more awareness.

The deputy left the room.

You turned back to Tommy.

“You hit him.”

Tommy didn’t deny it. “Yeah.”

“You escalated.”

“He swung first.”

“And you escalated.”

Silence. Tommy looked down. Joel stepped forward finally. Voice low.

“Christ, Tommy.”

Tommy’s jaw flexed.

“He was mouthing off.”

“And?” Joel snapped. “That new?”

You lifted a hand slightly without looking at either of them. Enough.

You looked back at Tommy.

“You’re being charged because the other man’s lawyer pushed for it before you had representation. That’s what happened.”

Tommy let out a slow breath.

“…Thank-”

You turned so fast he flinched.

“Don’t.”

Your voice wasn’t loud. It was worse. It was tight. Controlled. Furious.

“Don’t you dare thank me,” you said, eyes locked on his. “I am so incredibly mad at you right now.”

The room went still. Tommy blinked. Joel didn’t interfere. You stepped closer to the barrier.

“You scared us,” you said, nodding toward Joel. “You woke us up at two in the morning. My mom is at our house with Sarah. Because you were drunk and wouldn’t walk away.”

Tommy’s face shifted slightly at that.

“And now,” you continued, voice steady but sharp, “I’m standing in a police station at three a.m. pointing out procedural errors so you don’t end up with a record because someone with better connections moved faster than you.”

You held his gaze a moment longer. Not softening. Not letting him hide in jokes or apologies.

Then you exhaled slowly and shifted back into something cooler. Controlled. Professional.

“Alright,” you said. “Listen carefully.”

Tommy straightened a little on the bench without meaning to. Even bruised and half-drunk, he recognized that tone.

“You are not being formally charged tonight,” you continued. “They’re holding you pending review because the other party filed first and retained private counsel. That gave him priority.”

Tommy frowned. “So what-”

“So,” you cut in calmly, “we fix the order of things.”

You turned slightly as the deputy came back into the room with a thin file and a tablet. He handed it over with visible reluctance.

You skimmed it quickly. Efficient. Focused. Joel watched your eyes move line by line. Watched the moment you found what you needed.

There. You looked up.

“My client will not be held,” you said evenly. “There’s insufficient cause for detention.”

The deputy’s mouth tightened. “Ma’am, he was involved in-”

“In a mutual altercation,” you replied smoothly. “Where the initiating party has already been released. Without a field sobriety test administered to both individuals. Without documented medical evaluation for my client despite visible injury. And without witness statements attached to justify selective detention.”

Silence. 

You set the tablet down gently on the counter between you.

“If you’d like to continue holding him,” you added politely, “we can escalate that conversation to your supervising officer and the county desk. I’m happy to make that call.”

Joel almost smiled.

The deputy exhaled slowly through his nose.

“…One moment,” he muttered, and left again.

Tommy watched you like you’d just performed a magic trick. Joel stayed quiet.

A few minutes passed. Low voices somewhere down the hall. A door opening. Closing. Then the deputy returned, different posture this time.

“Mr. Miller will be released pending review,” he said stiffly. “No bail required.”

Tommy blinked. “Just like that?”

You didn’t even look at him.

“It’s not ‘just like that,’” you said calmly. “You got lucky there isn’t sufficient legal ground to hold you.”

Paperwork was placed on the counter. You reviewed it line by line before sliding it back.

“Sign here,” the deputy told Tommy.

He did.

Five minutes later, you were walking out. Just like that. Except not really.

The night air hit you cool and quiet when the station doors closed behind you. Tommy stood on the curb for a second like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he was free.

Joel stayed a step away. Arms crossed. Not touching him.

You stood between them, bag over your shoulder, posture still straight but the tension in it finally showing around the edges.

Tommy glanced at you.

“…So,” he started carefully.

You didn’t look at him.

“You’ll have a court date coming,” you said flatly. “They’ll review statements and decide whether to pursue charges formally. I’ll handle it. You will not talk to anyone about this without me present. You will not return to that bar. You will not contact the other party. Understood?”

Tommy nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

You finally looked at him then. Still angry. But steadier.

“Good.”

Joel stepped forward.

“Get in the truck.”

Tommy obeyed without a word.

The drive back was quiet. Heavy. But quieter than the ones before. And when you pulled up outside Tommy’s apartment, he hesitated before getting out.

Looked at Joel. Then at you. Didn’t try to joke this time. Didn’t try to charm. Just a rough, quiet:

“…Night.”

He got out. Closed the door gently.

Joel watched him go inside without moving. Then he leaned back in his seat and scrubbed a hand over his face hard.

“…Jesus,” he muttered.

You sat beside him, finally letting some of the steel drop from your shoulders.

“He’s okay,” you said quietly. “Tonight.”

Joel nodded once. Still staring ahead. After a moment, he reached across the console and took your hand. Squeezed it tight.

Didn’t say anything else. Didn’t need to.

*********

Tommy got lucky. Again.

Two days after you filed the paperwork and made three very pointed phone calls that left a junior assistant district attorney audibly sweating, the other party decided not to press charges.

Official reason: insufficient grounds.

Real reason: messy mutual fight, bad optics, and a lawyer who clearly wasn’t in the mood to play.

Case dropped. No record. No court. Clean. Too clean.

Joel didn’t say much when you told him. Just nodded once.

“Good.”

But the tightness in his shoulders never really left. It sat there for days. 

Tommy kept his distance more than usual. Still showed up around the house, still stopped by after work sometimes, still brought Sarah candy he pretended not to have bought specifically for her.

But something between the brothers had shifted.

Joel wasn’t yelling. Wasn’t picking fights. He just… wasn’t letting anything slide.

Every joke landed flat. Every deflection got ignored. Every attempt Tommy made to turn things into ‘no big deal’ died on contact.

You saw it. Felt it. Didn’t interfere… yet.

A week later, Tommy showed up for dinner like nothing happened.No call. No warning. Just the familiar knock and the sound of the back door opening before anyone could answer.

“Smells illegal in here,” he announced, stepping inside like he payed part of the mortgage. “You make enough for one more?”

Joel didn’t even turn from the stove.

“…Tommy.”

“What.”

“…We’re eatin’.”

Tommy paused halfway to the cabinet. Looked at the table. Plates already set. Sarah in her chair swinging her legs. You pouring iced tea.

“Okay,” he said.

He grabbed a plate and served himself like nothing had happened and dropped into the empty chair at the table with a satisfied sigh.

“Long day, huh?” he said, reaching for the bread.

Joel set the pan down harder than necessary.

“Then go home and eat,” he said flatly.

Sarah’s fork paused halfway to her mouth.

Tommy blinked. “I just got here.”

“Yeah,” Joel said. “I noticed.”

You set the pitcher down carefully. Very carefully.

“Joel-”

“I’m just sayin’,” Joel went on, not raising his voice but somehow making it worse. “Man could call first. Maybe check if we’re busy.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair slightly, posture shifting.

“Didn’t realize I needed an appointment,” he said, light but edged.

“Common courtesy ain’t an appointment.”

“Alright,” Tommy said, holding up one hand. “My bad. I’m here now.”

Joel let out a humorless breath through his nose and finally sat down across from him.

Dinner started. Or tried to.

For about thirty minutes, it was normal. Sarah talked about school. You asked questions. Tommy made a comment about a teacher assigning too much homework.

Then Joel cut in.

“You been drinkin’.”

Not a question.

Tommy stilled. “No.”

Joel just looked at him.

You felt the shift before anyone spoke again.

“Had a beer after work,” Tommy added. “One.”

Joel’s jaw flexed. “Mm.”

Silence pressed down over the table.

Sarah looked between them. Then at you.

You forced a small smile. “Hey, kiddo. Why don’t you show me that drawing you were working on earlier?”

Sarah caught the tone immediately. Smart girl.

“Okay,” she said, sliding off her chair.

You stood and took her hand lightly.

“C’mon. Let’s go see it in your room.”

You left the kitchen together.

The moment Sarah’s bedroom door clicked shut upstairs…

The air snapped.

Joel pushed his chair back. “You think this is funny.”

Tommy’s fork hit the plate. “Jesus Christ, Joel-”

“No,” Joel cut in, voice low but sharp as glass. “You don’t get to ‘Jesus Christ’ me. Not after last week.”

Tommy stood too, chair scraping.

“It’s handled.”

“Handled?” Joel barked a humorless laugh. “You call that handled? You got hauled into a station at two in the mornin’.”

“And I walked out,” Tommy shot back. “No charges. No record. Done.”

“That ain’t the damn point.”

“Then what is,” Tommy demanded. “Huh? What exactly do you want from me here?”

Joel stared at him. Really stared.

“I want,” he said slowly, “to stop gettin’ calls about my brother like he’s a goddamn problem I gotta solve.”

Tommy flinched. Just barely.

“Wasn’t your problem,” he said, quieter but stubborn. “I handled it.”

Joel stepped forward.

“You didn’t handle it. My girl did,” he said, sharp and low. “Then you got fuckin’ lucky. Like you always do. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you take the fall for your own fuckin’ mess.”

Silence cracked between them.

Tommy ran a hand over the back of his neck, frustration rising. “I said it won’t happen again.”

“You always say that.”

That landed. Heavily.

Tommy’s jaw tightened. “I mean it this time.”

Joel let out a slow breath that sounded almost like a laugh. But wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You always do.”

“That’s not fair,” Tommy yelled at something Joel said.

Joel let out a humorless huff. “Not fair? You wanna talk fair?”

He leaned forward, forearms on the table, voice tightening instead of rising.

“You’re pushin’ thirty, Tommy. How many times we done this? How many calls in the middle of the damn night? How many rides home? How many fuckin’ times I gotta look my kid in the eye and pretend her uncle ain’t slowly wreckin’ himself?”

Tommy’s jaw set. “I said I got it handled.”

“No,” Joel snapped. “You keep sayin’ that. You don’t ever do it.”

The words hung there. Heavy.

Tommy looked down at his plate like he might throw it, then pushed it away instead.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said quietly. “So don’t stand there actin’ like you do.”

Joel’s mouth flattened. That one always came out eventually.

“Try me,” he said.

Tommy laughed once. Short. Bitter. “You didn’t see what I saw over there.”

Joel stilled. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t rise to it. But something in his eyes hardened.

“No,” he said, voice low and steady. “I didn’t. But I see what it’s doin’ to you now.”

Tommy looked up sharply.

Joel held his gaze. Didn’t look away.

“You think I don’t get it?” Joel went on. “You think I ain’t spent the last decade watchin’ you drink and fight and run from every damn thing that gets too close? You think I don’t know what that is?”

Tommy swallowed. Hard.

“PTSD ain’t an excuse to burn your fuckin’ life down,” Joel said, not cruel, just tired. “And it damn sure ain’t an excuse to keep hurtin’ the people who gotta stand here and watch you fuckin’ kill yourself!”

Silence hit the room like a dropped weight.

Tommy pushed back from the table fully this time.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Alright.”

He didn’t look at Joel. Didn’t slam anything. Didn’t raise his voice. Just walked to the front door, grabbed his jacket, and stepped outside. The door closed behind him with a quiet, final click.

Joel stayed where he was for a second, breathing hard through his nose, hands braced on the table like he’d just finished a fight he hadn’t meant to start.

Outside, the porch boards creaked faintly as Tommy moved. Pacing. Or maybe just standing there trying to get air.

Joel scrubbed a hand down his face. He knew that silence. Knew that kind of retreat. And it didn’t feel like a win.

He went to the sink with his back turned, rinsing the same plate for longer than it needed. The house felt… tight. Like sound carried differently after yelling.

He heard your footsteps before he saw you.

“Sarah?” he asked without turning.

“On a video call with Frank,” you said softly. “He’s showing her something with the strawberries in his garden. She’s… okay.”

That eased something in Joel’s shoulders, just slightly. .

He nodded once, drying his hands slowly on a dish towel before turning around. Your face looked calm, but he knew you well enough by now to see the tension sitting just under it. The kind you wore when you were choosing your next move carefully.

You came a step closer. Not all the way. Close enough.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Can I… talk to him?”

Joel didn’t answer right away.

Out on the porch, Tommy’s boots scraped faintly against wood as he shifted in the rocking chair. A low creak. Then stillness again.

Joel exhaled through his nose, jaw tight.

“Ain’t gonna do any good,” he muttered. Not harsh. Just tired.

“Maybe,” you said gently. “Maybe not. But I’d like to try.”

He studied you for a second. Saw the steadiness there. Not judgment. Not anger.  That mattered. Finally he nodded once toward the door.

“…Yeah,” he said. “Go on.” He went on, almost apologetic in a way he’d never say out loud: “Don’t let him bullshit you.”

You nodded once and moved toward the front door, pausing only long enough to slip yout feet into your shoes by the mat. The porch light was already on; it cast a soft amber glow across the wood outside, long shadows stretching over the yard.

Joel stayed where he was. Didn’t follow. Didn’t hover. Stood at the sink with his hands braced on the counter for a second before forcing himself to move again, picking up a glass that didn’t need washing and running water over it anyway.

The front door opened. Soft creak. Then shut behind you.

There was a moment of quiet. He could picture it without looking; Tommy out there on the old bench or leaning against the railing, shoulders hunched, head down like he always got when the anger burned off and left something heavier behind.

He heard your voice first. Calm. Low. Careful not to carry inside.

(***)

“…Hey.”

Tommy shifted. A faint scrape of boot against wood.

“Hey,” he answered, rougher than usual. Not defensive. Just… worn.

There was a small pause. The kind that came when two people stood near each other and neither quite knew how to start.

Joel hadn’t meant to listen, but the kitchen window was cracked open from earlier; to let the heat out while they cooked. And sound carried differently at night. Softer and clearer.

“…You okay?” you asked quietly.

A short huff from Tommy. Half a laugh, half something else. “That depends. You here to yell at me too?”

“No,” you said. Simple. Honest.

There was a longer pause.

Tommy shifted again, wood creaking under his weight.

“…He tell you everything?” Tommy asked.

“No,” you said gently. “Didn’t have to… You two weren’t exactly whispering.”

Silence stretched between you for a few seconds. The kind that wasn’t empty, but careful.

Joel felt it in his chest. Tight. Familiar.

“I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. If that’s okay,” you said.

Tommy let out a slow breath. The fight had gone out of him. Joel could hear that much.

“... ‘bout what,” he muttered. “How I’m the fuckin’ screwup of the family and there ain’t nothing I can do to fix it?.”

You didn’t rise to the bite in it. Didn’t rush either.

“I don’t think you’re a screwup,” you said quietly, with so much love and patience it hit Joel right in the chest.

A short, humorless breath left Tommy.

“Well,” he muttered, staring somewhere out into the dark yard, “I do.”

Silence settled between you. Not hostile. Just heavy. You let it sit. Let him hear it settle without trying to fix it too fast.

“God,” you said softly after a moment, almost to yourself. “You remind me so much of my dad sometimes, you know?”

Tommy shifted a little on the step. “That supposed to be good or bad?”

“Depends on the day.”

You huffed a quiet breath. 

“Did you know he was a vet too?” you asked.

Tommy glanced over, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You kept your voice even. “Vietnam.”

Tommy went still. The kind of still that came from recognition, not curiosity.

“…That’s,” he muttered, voice roughening, “that’s fucked up.”

Another small silence settled in. Not awkward. Just real.

You nodded once. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “It was.”

Joel swallowed and set the dish down a little too carefully. The faint clink sounded louder than it should’ve.

“He was also everyone’s favorite,” you went on quietly. “Played with the kids for hours. No complaints. Just… down on the grass with them, hands-on. Exactly like you.”

Tommy didn’t move. Didn’t joke.

“He was a jokester,” you added. “Always had people laughing. People gravitated to him without even trying. Barbecues, birthdays, random Tuesdays… he lit up a room just by walking into it.”

A small breath left you.

“He was always happy. Always fun. Or at least… that’s what it looked like from the outside.”

Tommy’s shoulders shifted slightly, like the words had weight.

You gave a faint, almost embarrassed huff.

“I was such a daddy’s girl it’s honestly a little embarrassing now. Followed him everywhere. He could do no wrong.”

You let out a long sigh.

“Then I grew up a little,” you continued softly. “Started… noticing things.”

Tommy stayed very still.

“The little stuff first. Beer bottles where they hadn’t been before. Days when he’d come home and he wasn’t… him. Grumpy. Tired in a way that didn’t make sense. Didn’t want to play. Didn’t want to talk.”

There was a small pause.

“Fights with my mom,” you added quietly. “The kind you try not to hear as a kid but… you do anyway.”

Tommy swallowed, gaze dropping somewhere to the porch boards.

“The first time I remember her having to go pick him up from a bar, I was about Sarah’s age,” you said. “Maybe a little younger. Bill tried to cover it. Told me Dad was helping a friend, that he’d be late. But you know how kids are. You can feel when something’s off.”

Your voice softened further.

“After that… it stopped being something they could hide. Not really.”

Joel’s fingers tightened around the glass in his hand.

“I loved him so much,” you went on, voice thinner now but still steady. “I made all kinds of excuses as a kid. Thought maybe it was our fault somehow. Maybe we just weren’t… enough to make him happy.”

“Juliet…” Tommy said quietly, almost a protest.

You shook your head a little. “No. It’s okay. I know better now. The truth is… he needed help. Real help. The kind we couldn’t give him at home. The kind he wouldn’t ask for.”

“Yeah…” Tommy muttered. “I get it.”

“He had episodes,” you continued. “Regressions. Loud noises would set him off. Fourth of Julys were always hard. New Year’s. Fireworks…” you let out a humorless breath. “He just couldn’t deal. Every year he’d end up drunk as a damn sailor by sundown.”

Joel rubbed a hand slowly over his mouth.

“When I was eleven,” you said, “I cleaned up his vomit for the first time. Didn’t want my mom to find him like that. Didn’t want Bill to see. So I cleaned the floor. Helped him into the shower. Put him to bed.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. Joel stared down at the sink. Christ.

“He was crying,” you added softly. “Apologizing. Kept saying he was sorry.”

You swallowed once.

“He told me… ‘You deserve better than me, baby girl. I ain’t built right. Don’t you grow up lovin’ men like me’.”

Silence settled heavy between you and Tommy. Your voice didn’t crack. It just thinned.

“He kept telling us he’d change,” you went on quietly. “Said it was the last time. Every time.”

You let out a small breath.

“It never was.”

Tommy stared out into the dark yard, unmoving.

“When I got old enough to drive, sometimes I’d go pick him up myself,” you continued. “Some bar across town. Some parking lot. I’d help him into the car so my mom wouldn’t find out how bad it’d gotten.”

Your fingers twisted together loosely in your lap.

“I hated when they fought,” you admitted. “Hated that part more than anything. The yelling. The slammed doors. The way the whole house felt like it was holding its breath.”

Tommy huffed.

“I kept thinking if I just… handled it better,” you said softly, “if I got to him first, if I made it easier, maybe it wouldn’t get that far.”

“Fuck, Juliet…” Tommy muttered, voice rough. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Joel swallowed hard at that. Hearing Tommy apologize for something that wasn’t even his… that already said enough.

You gave a small shrug that wasn’t really a shrug. Just a movement to keep yourself steady.

“When I was seventeen,” you said, “he picked me up from a friend’s house. I wasn’t supposed to be there. He’d secretly let me go. Mom never would’ve let him drive me anywhere alone at night by then.”

A faint, distant smile touched your mouth.

“He seemed fine. Happy. Laughing. Making jokes the whole drive. I remember thinking… Maybe this time he really is okay.”

Joel’s chest tightened painfully. He knew that hope. That stupid, fragile hope.

Yout gaze dropped to your hands.

“Then I noticed he was slurring a little. Just a little. I told him to pull over. Let me drive.”

You let out a small huff.

“He got mad. Told me he was perfectly capable.”

Silence stretched for a second.

“And then… I just remember the noise,” you said softly. “A loud crash. Metal. Glass.”

Joel’s hand tightened on the counter. 

“Next thing I knew, I woke up in the hospital.”

You lifted one hand slowly and brushed your fingers along the side of your ribs, then higher toward your shoulder; a place usually hidden.

“I’d been in a coma for five days,” you said. “They told me later I almost bled out. Missed an artery by an inch.”

You sighed faintly.

“I lived. He… wasn’t so lucky.”

Tommy dragged a hand down his face. “Shit… Juliet. I’m so sorry.”

Joel swallowed thickly.

You nodded once, accepting it without dwelling there.

“The day I first met you,” you went on quietly, “you reminded me of him so much it hurt.”

Joel’s head lifted slightly at that. His gaze shifted toward the back door now. Fully listening.

You looked at Tommy. Not accusing. Just honest.

“Same charm. Same way of making everyone laugh. Same way of dodging anything that actually mattered.”

There was a small moment of silence.

“Same… way of pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”

Silence settled over the house. Heavy. Real.

At the sink, Joel stood very still… and for the first time since the fight started, he wasn’t angry.

“I couldn’t save him,” you said quietly. “Not from himself. Not from what he carried. But I can tell you what comes after, Tommy, if you keep going down this road.”

He didn’t look at you.

“Your loved ones will suffer,” you went on, voice steady but soft. “More than you realize. They’ll never stop wondering what they could’ve done differently. What they missed. What they should’ve said sooner. It doesn’t end when you’re gone. It just… keeps echoing.”

From the kitchen, Joel’s throat tightened. He gripped the edge of the counter without meaning to.

Outside, Tommy scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he muttered. “I’m so fucked up, Juliet.”

You didn’t flinch at the language. Didn’t soften the truth.

“You need help,” you said. “Real help. But you can only get it if you actually want it.”

Tommy let out a quiet scoff. “I tried AA,” he said. “Didn’t do a damn thing. They didn’t get it. None of ’em. Just… talkin’ in circles.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly. He’d heard that before.

“Then get a therapist,” you said simply. “A good one. I’ll pay for it. Every cent. Gladly.”

“That’s not the issue,” Tommy said, almost under his breath.

You leaned forward a little. “Then what is?”

Silence stretched. When Tommy spoke again, it was rougher. Harder to get out.

“…What if it ain’t worth it,” he muttered. “Worth the trouble. All of it. Everything’s already hard enough as it is.”

The words settled heavy in the air. Inside, Joel’s chest went tight.

A flash of anger, sharp and immediate, rose in him; not at you, not even fully at Tommy, but at the hopelessness in that sentence. At how close it sounded to something he’d heard too many times from men who didn’t make it out.

On the porch, you didn’t rush to fill the silence. You let him sit in it.

Then, gently, you said, “Most things worth having are hard.”

Yout voice softened even more.

“You already have more than most people ever get,” you said quietly. “People who truly love you. Your brother. Your niece.”

A small breath left your lips.

“…Me. I love you, Tommy. You’re family to me. You know that.”

Out on the porch, Tommy went very still. His face crumpled before he could stop it. He looked away immediately, dragging a hand over his mouth like he could physically hold himself together if he pressed hard enough.

“Don’t-” he muttered hoarsely. “Don’t do that.”

“I mean it,” you said gently. “You matter to us.”

His shoulders started to shake. Just slightly at first. Then more.

You didn’t move closer yet. Gave him the dignity of a second to breathe.

“Can you imagine yourself in that car that killed my daddy?” you asked.

Tommy’s head snapped toward you. “Juliet-”

“He hit a lightpost,” you continued softly. “Could’ve been a family. Could’ve been a kid crossing the street. Could’ve been me. Could’ve been someone else’s daughter sitting in that passenger seat.”

Joel felt that one hit like a physical blow. 

“Could be Sarah,” you finished, voice barely above a whisper. “In the wrong place. With the wrong driver. One night that was supposed to be normal.”

Silence.

Then Tommy broke. A choked sound tore out of him before he could swallow it back. He bent forward hard, elbows on his knees, hands coming up to his face as if he could hide from it. But the sob that followed was unmistakable. Raw. Shaking. Years overdue.

“Jesus,” he gasped. “Jesus Christ…”

You moved then. Slowly. Carefully. You stepped closer and knelt beside him, one hand coming up to the back of his neck.

He didn’t resist. He folded toward you like something in him had finally given out. Arms wrapping around your waist, face pressed against your shoulder as the sobs came harder. Messier. 

Inside, Joel stood frozen. He had never, in his entire life, heard his brother cry like that. Not when they were kids. Not when he came back from the army. Not when their world fell apart a dozen different ways.

Something twisted deep in Joel’s chest. Pain. Relief. Fear. Gratitude. All tangled together.

Out on the porch, you just held him. One hand steady on the back of his head. The other on his shoulder. Not shushing him. Not rushing him. Just… there. Letting him fall apart without trying to stop it.

Tommy’s sobs had quieted to something rougher. Uneven breaths. The kind that scraped on the way out.

You didn’t move away. Didn’t try to fix it. Just stayed there with him like you’d decided he wasn’t going through it alone.

Joel wiped his hands on a dish towel that didn’t need it and stared down at the counter. His brother was breaking open out there. Wide open. And for the first time… maybe that wasn’t the worst thing.

He moved toward the back door quietly. Heard Sarah talking to Frank still. He got a bit closed, not enough to interrupt, just enough to be there if needed.

Tommy had slumped forward now, elbows on his knees, both hands hanging loose between them. Drained. Spent. You still knelt beside him, one hand resting steady between his shoulder blades.

The night pressed in soft around them. Crickets. Distant traffic. The low hum of a neighborhood settling down.

Finally, Tommy dragged a shaky breath in.

“…I don’t know how to stop,” he said hoarsely.

Not defensive. Not joking. Just… honest.

You didn’t answer right away. When you did, your voice was quiet but steady.

“Then we figure it out,” you said. “One step at a time.”

Tommy let out a broken little laugh that wasn’t really humor.

“You still mad at me?”

“Yes,” you said simply. “But I’m not giving up on you.”

Silence settled again. Different now. Not as sharp.

After a while, Tommy scrubbed both hands over his face and let out a long breath.

“…I’ll try,” he said roughly. “For real this time. I’ll… try.”

You squeezed the back of his neck once. Firm.

“I know.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly. Not relief exactly. But something close enough to breathe.

Tommy stayed on the porch a while after his breathing evened out. Not crying anymore. Empty. Drained in that deep way that came after something finally broke loose.

You gave his shoulder one last squeeze and stood slowly, giving him space without making it a production. No speeches. No ‘we’ll talk tomorrow’. Just a quiet presence.

After a minute, Tommy pushed himself up too. Didn’t look toward the kitchen. Didn’t look for Joel. He just muttered a rough, “Night,” that barely carried past the porch light, and headed down the steps.

Truck engine. Headlights sweeping once across the living room wall. Then gone.

(***)

You stepped back into the kitchen slowly, like you weren't sure what you’d find there. Joel was still by the sink. Exactly where you’d left him.

One hand braced on the counter. The other hanging loose at his side. Shoulders tight in a way that told you he’d been holding himself together by force alone.

“…He didn’t say goodbye,” he muttered.

You shook your head softly. “He couldn’t.”

Joel nodded once. Like he already knew that. 

Silence settled again. Heavy, but not uncomfortable. He finally looked at you then. Really looked. Eyes a little red. Jaw tight. Something raw sitting just under the surface.

“You okay?” he asked.

It came out rough. Low. Careful in a way that made it clear the question wasn’t casual.

You nodded once. “Yeah.”

You put your face in both your hands.

“That was hard.”

Joel’s mouth tightened.

“Shouldn’t have been on you,” he said immediately. “Ain’t your mess to fix.”

“I know,” you answered softly. “I wasn’t fixing it.”

He watched you a long second. Like he was weighing that. Testing it against everything he’d just heard.

Then something in his face shifted. He pushed off the counter and crossed the space between you in two strides.

Didn’t ask. Just reached for you. One arm came around yout waist. Firm. The other slid up your back and into your hair, pulling you in against his chest like he needed the contact more than air.

You went easily, arms wrapping around him in return.

He held you tight. Solid. Like he needed to feel something real in his hands.

For a few seconds he didn’t say anything, he just stood there breathing against your temple.

“…You shouldn’t know that kinda pain,” he murmured. “Not at your age. Not ever.”

Your hands landed on his chest.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He shook his head faintly against you.

“Yeah. You are.” He swallowed what felt like a huge lump on his throat “Still shouldn’t have had to be.”

Silence stretched again. Not empty. Full of things neither of you needed to spell out.

His hand slid up and down your back slowly. Grounding. Reassuring. Maybe for himself as much as for you.

“…Thank you,” he said finally. Voice low. Thick. “For not givin’ up on him.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him.

“I’m not giving up on you either,” you said softly.

He swallowed once. Hard.

“Ain’t plannin’ on lettin’ you,” he answered.

A faint, tired huff of breath left him then. Something almost like a broken laugh.

“…Christ,” he muttered. “Family’s a mess.”

Your mouth curved faintly. “Yeah. But it’s our mess.”

He looked down at you again. Eyes softer now, but still raw around the edges.

He leaned down then and kissed you. Deep. Slow. Full of everything he didn’t quite have words for.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours. He let out a slow breath. Shook his head once, almost to himself.

“…How the hell did I get this lucky,” he murmured, voice rough and low.

And this time when he pulled you into his arms, it wasn’t urgency or heat driving it. It was something steadier. Something protective. Something that felt a lot like choosing each other all over again after seeing the worst parts laid bare.

Sarah padded down the hallway a minute later, socks whispering softly against the floor. She’d changed into her pajamas already, hair loose and slightly tangled from brushing it herself.

She slowed when she saw you standing there together in the kitchen, like she’d walked into something quiet and important without meaning to.

“…Frank says he’s bringing me strawberry seeds next weekend,” she announced, because seven-year-olds didn’t ease into anything gently. “So we can plant them before it gets too hot.”

You smiled immediately, softening. “That’s a very serious responsibility.”

“I know,” Sarah said gravely. Then you glanced around the room. “Where’s Uncle Tommy?”

Joel and you exchanged the smallest look. Quick. Silent.

“He headed home,” Joel said evenly. “Wasn’t feelin’ too great.”

Sarah’s face shifted at that. Concern, simple and immediate.

“Oh.”

She stood there a second, thinking it through in that open way kids did. Then she went:

“Should I make him a drawing?”

Joel blinked. “A… drawin’?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged like this was obvious. “He always gets happy when I give him one. Even if they’re kinda bad.”

“They are not bad,” you said gently.

Sarah looked unconvinced but continued anyway. “I could make one with the strawberries. And maybe a dinosaur. He likes dinosaurs.”

“…Yeah,” Joel said quietly. “Think he’d like that a lot.”

Sarah nodded once, decision made, and turned back toward the hallway with purpose. “Okay. I’m gonna do it now before I forget.”

You listened to her footsteps retreat, then the soft thump of her bedroom door.

The house settled again. Quiet and full.

Joel exhaled slowly and reached for you without really thinking about it, hand settling at your waist. You leaned into him easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You just stood there in the kitchen, holding onto something fragile and real and worth fighting for.

************

Joel found it before the coffee finished brewing.

He came into the kitchen half-awake, hair still sleep-rough, reaching automatically for the pot when he saw the folded paper on the counter. His name on it. Tommy’s handwriting.

Something in his chest tightened immediately. He picked it up.

Joel,

By some miracle they had a spot open starting today. Vet program outside San Antonio. Sixty days inpatient. If I didn’t take it now, I wasn’t gonna take it at all.

I know I should’ve said this to your face. I just… couldn’t. 

I’m sorry. For all of it. Every time you had to come get me. Every time I made you worry. Every time Sarah saw more than she should have. You didn’t deserve that.

I need some distance to do this right. Need to get my head straight without dragging you both through it again.

Juliet,

I don’t know how to thank you without sounding like an idiot. 

No one’s ever talked to me the way you did last night. No one ever told me the truth and still made it sound like I was worth saving.

I’m gonna carry that with me. I mean it.

Tell Sarah I’ll call Sundays if they let me. Tell her I kept the drawings.

Don’t come down there unless I ask. I need to do this on my own feet.

Love you all.

Tommy

He read it once. Then again, slower. By the time he got to the end, his jaw had locked so hard it hurt.

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft hiss of the coffee maker. Morning light just starting to push through the window over the sink. Ordinary. Calm. Completely at odds with the way his chest felt like it had been split open.

He set the letter down carefully. Then braced both hands on the counter and stared at nothing.

Relief hit first. Sharp. Almost dizzying. He’s going. He actually went.

Right behind it came something heavier. Guilt. The memory of every time he’d yelled. Every time he’d dragged Tommy out of a bar by the collar. Every time Sarah had asked why Uncle Tommy looked tired.

And under all of that… pride. Quiet. Fierce. Almost painful.

“…Stubborn idiot,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough.

He heard soft footsteps behind him.

You stopped when you saw his posture. Saw the letter on the counter.

“…Joel?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just picked up the paper and held it out without turning.

You came closer, taking it gently from his hand. He watched your face as you read; the way your eyes moved across the lines, the way your mouth pressed together halfway through.

By the time you reached the part addressed to her, your vision blurred. You blinked fast, but it didn’t stop the tear that slipped free anyway.

“Oh, Tommy…” you whispered.

Joel dragged a hand down his face and finally sank into one of the kitchen chairs like his legs had given out all at once. Elbows on his knees. Hands clasped loosely together.

“He found a spot,” he said quietly. “Starts today.”

You nodded, still holding the letter. “That’s… fast.”

“Yeah.” He let out a slow breath. “That’s Tommy. If he’d waited, he’d’ve found a reason not to go.”

You set the letter down carefully on the table and moved to him without thinking, one hand coming to rest at the back of his neck. Warm. Steady. He leaned into it a fraction, eyes closing briefly.

“I’m proud of him,” he admitted quietly. Like it cost something to say out loud. Then he said, rougher this time: “And I hate that it took this much to get him there.”

You slid your arms gently around him from behind, cheek resting against his temple. 

“You didn’t put him there,” you murmured. “But maybe… you helped him get out.”

He swallowed hard at that. Didn’t trust himself to answer right away.

After a moment he reached back, pulling you forward until you stepped around the chair and into him properly. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held on. Firm. Grounding. Like he needed something solid under his hands.

“…Lucky bastard,” he muttered quietly against your shirt.

You frowned slightly. “Who?”

He leaned back just enough to look up at you. Eyes a little red. Honest in that way he only got when everything else had been stripped out.

“Me.”

PART 8 - THE BRIGHTNESS

Joel woke before the alarm, like he always did. For a few seconds he didn’t move. Just lay there on his side, staring at the faint line of early light cutting across the far wall while the slow, familiar sounds of the house settled around him; the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall, pipes ticking softly in the walls, morning just starting to stretch awake.

And then he felt it. Warmth tucked along the front of him. Soft hair under his chin. The steady, quiet rhythm of someone breathing, pressed back into his chest. You.

You were curled on your side in front of him, his arm draped heavy across your waist, his hand resting low on your stomach like it had settled there sometime during the night and never bothered moving. One of your hands rested lightly over his forearm, fingers half curled in sleep, keeping him there without thinking about it.

Joel let out a slow breath through his nose, careful not to shift too much. Didn’t want to wake you yet. Didn’t really want to move at all.

It still hit him sometimes. Not in some big dramatic way. Just in small, quiet moments like this, when the house was still and he had half a second to notice how different everything felt. How full.

He adjusted his chin slightly against the crown of your head, just enough to breathe you in; shampoo, warmth, something distinctly yours that had started to feel as familiar as the smell of his own house.

Something in his chest tightened in that quiet, familiar way it always did when he let himself notice it too long.

Down the hall, a door creaked. Then small footsteps. Light. Quick. Joel closed his eyes briefly. Right on schedule.

A second later, the bedroom door opened just enough for a small head to peek through. Messy hair. Sleepy face. Assessing the situation like a tiny general planning her morning.

“Are you awake,” Sarah whispered loudly.

You stirred faintly at the sound but didn’t wake. Just shifted a little deeper into him, your back pressing more firmly against his chest. Joel lifted his head slightly from where it rested near your hair.

“Am now,” he murmured.

Sarah grinned and slipped fully into the room, padding across the floor in mismatched socks. She climbed onto the bed without invitation; never needed one; and carefully wedged herself into the narrow space in front of you like this had always been the arrangement.

Maybe it had.

The mattress dipped. You made a soft, confused sound, blinking awake slowly. Your eyes focused, found Sarah first, then Joel behind you, arm still wrapped around your middle. A sleepy smile tugged at your mouth like the sight of both of them there made immediate sense.

“Morning,” you murmured, voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” Sarah chirped back immediately. “I’m hungry.”

Joel huffed softly behind you both.

“Course you are.”

You shifted onto your back with a small stretch, his arm sliding with you automatically before he let it fall away so you could sit up. You rubbed at your eyes, hair a mess, and glanced between them.

“I can make pancakes,” you offered, still half asleep.

“You made ‘em yesterday,” Joel pointed out.

“And they were excellent,” Sarah added firmly.

Your mouth twitched. “See? Public demand.”

Joel watched you two for a second. Just… watched. The easy way Sarah leaned into your side without thinking. The way you brushed a hand over the kid’s hair like it was second nature now. It had stopped feeling new a while ago. Somewhere along the way, this had just become… life.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed with a quiet exhale. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get coffee goin’ before y’all start a coup.”

Sarah slid off the mattress immediately and darted for the door. You followed slower, still waking up, stealing one quick, soft kiss against Joel’s shoulder as you passed like it was habit now. Like it belonged there. It did.

He sat there for a second after you left. Just listening to your voices drift down the hallway toward the kitchen. Sarah talking a mile a minute. You laughing softly in response. Cabinets opening. The familiar clatter of morning starting.

For a long time, mornings in this house had been about getting through them. Getting Sarah fed. Dressed. Out the door. Work waiting. Bills waiting. Life pressing in from every side. Now… Now they felt different. Fuller. Warmer. Like something solid had settled into place without him realizing when it started.

Joel pushed to his feet and headed down the hall after you two, the sound of your voices pulling him forward before he even reached the kitchen.

You were halfway through pouring coffee when the back door creaked open and Tommy wandered in like he owned the place, already halfway through a yawn.

“Smells like chores and responsibility,” he announced, dragging a hand down his face as he crossed into the kitchen. “I’m against both.”

Joel didn’t even turn from the counter. “You own a coffeemaker.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, reaching for a mug. “But I keep telling you, yours tastes better.”

“That’s because I make it right.”

“Exactly my point.”

He poured himself a cup like this was routine; which, lately, it was; and slid into one of the chairs just as Sarah came skidding into the kitchen in her socks, hair wild, eyes already bright with intent.

Joel noticed immediately.

He leaned back against the counter, mug in hand, watching the way Sarah squared her shoulders like she was about to present a business proposal.

“So,” she said, very seriously. “What are we doing for my birthday?”

Joel didn’t even glance up. “Havin’ one.”

“Dad.”

“What.”

“I’m turning eight.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s big.”

He finally looked at her. “Every year’s big when you’re eight.”

Tommy nodded. “Right. We gotta make it count.”

Joel pointed at him with his mug. “Keep it reasonable.”

Tommy looked offended. “I am always reasonable.”

You made a quiet sound into your coffee that definitely wasn’t agreement.

Sarah leaned forward. “Emma had a bounce house last year.”

Joel exhaled slowly. “We are not gettin’ a bounce house.”

“I didn’t even say I wanted one.”

“You were about to.”

Tommy rested his elbows on the table. “Bounce houses are overrated anyway.”

Sarah blinked. “They are?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You bounce for like ten minutes, then somebody gets kicked in the face and it’s over.”

You choked on your coffee trying not to laugh.

“Okay,” Sarah said, already amused. “What should I have then.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair like he was thinking hard. “Well. We could do a medieval theme.”

Joel went still. “No.”

“Full suits of armor,” Tommy continued. “Jousting in the driveway. I’ll build a catapult.”

“I swear to God.”

Sarah was laughing now. “A real catapult?”

“Small one,” Tommy said. “Water balloons. Mostly safe.”

You pressed your lips together, shoulders shaking.

Joel dragged a hand down his face. “Next idea.”

Tommy didn’t miss a beat. “We rent a mechanical bull.”

“She is eight.”

“Start ‘em young.”

Sarah had slid halfway out of her chair, giggling. “I’d fall off!”

“That’s the fun,” Tommy said.

Joel looked at you for backup. You just lifted your mug and shook your head, refusing to get involved.

“Alright,” Joel said finally. “Real ideas now.”

Sarah leaned her chin on her hands, thinking. “I want it outside.”

“Good,” Joel said.

“And water stuff,” Sarah added thoughtfully. “If it’s hot.”

You smiled. “We can do water balloons.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “Or,” he said, like a man about to change history, “we can bring a princess.”

Absolute silence.

Joel looked at him slowly. “A what.”

“A princess,” Tommy repeated, unfazed. “Kids love that stuff. One of those party ones. Crown, big dress, sparkles. Shows up, does the whole royal wave.”

Sarah blinked. “Like… a real one?”

“Closest thing Texas has,” Tommy said.

You pressed your lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “You want to invite royalty to an eight-year-old’s backyard?”

Tommy shrugged. “Sets a tone.”

Joel rubbed his face. “We are not hostin’ the monarchy.”

But Sarah had gone very still.

“…Could we?” she asked quietly.

All three adults looked at her. Not bouncing. Not demanding. Just… hopeful.

You softened first. “You want a princess?”

Sarah nodded once. “Maybe. Just… for a little bit.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, already losing the battle. “You don’t even like princess movies.”

“I like dresses,” she said reasonably. “And it’d be fun.”

Tommy slapped the table softly. “Kid’s got vision.”

Joel shot him a look. Then looked back at Sarah.

“…One princess,” he muttered. “Shows up, waves, eats cake, leaves. That’s it.”

Sarah’s entire face lit up. “Really?”

You smiled into your coffee. “Guess we’re hosting royalty.”

Tommy raised his mug. “I bet she’ll be pretty.”

“Don’t,” you and Joel said at the same time.

Sarah leaned forward, serious. “She has to be a good one. Not scary.”

Tommy nodded solemnly. “Only the finest kingdom.”

Joel shook his head, but he was smiling now. Couldn’t help it.

“…Princess,” he muttered into his coffee. “Unbelievable.”

Sarah launched out of her chair and threw her arms around Joel’s neck. “BEST BIRTHDAY EVER.”

He caught her automatically, huffing a quiet laugh. “We ain’t even had it yet.”

She ran for her room almost immediately. “I HAVE TO MAKE A LIST.”

Her footsteps thundered down the hall. The kitchen settled again, easy and familiar.

You stood to refill the coffee, brushing past Joel’s shoulder on your way to the counter. Tommy stretched his legs out under the table like he planned to stay awhile, chair tipped back just enough to be annoying.

Joel watched him over the rim of his mug.

“…So,” he said, casual. “What’ve you been doin’ lately, anyway.”

Tommy reached for the sugar bowl like this was an interview he’d been preparing for. “Work.”

“Mm.”

“Here and there.”

Joel didn’t look convinced. “You been doin’ a lotta ‘here and there.’”

Tommy stirred his coffee slowly. “Keeps life interesting.”

Joel set his mug down. “Heard you left the bar on Mason with a redhead Tuesday.”

Tommy didn’t even blink. “She had excellent conversational skills.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And Wednesday,” Joel added.

“Different redhead,” Tommy said. “Also excellent. And Mark has the biggest mouth.”

Tommy took a slow sip of coffee like he was settling into a story he planned to enjoy telling.

“What?” he went on, stretching his legs out under the table, “some of us are still livin’ a little.”

Joel didn’t look up. “You mean rotating through the same three bars and pretendin’ you invented flirting?”

Tommy scoffed. “It’s called variety.”

“It’s called bein’ thirty and exhausted,” Joel muttered.

“That’s you,” Tommy shot back immediately. “You’re the one who turned into a suburban husband before forty. Don’t drag me down with you.”

Joel finally looked up. “Suburban husband.”

“You got a woman. A kid. A backyard. You say things like ‘we need more paper towels’.” Tommy pointed his spoon at him. “That’s a man who’s settled.”

You, at the counter, hid a smile.

Joel leaned back in his chair. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with settled.”

“Didn’t say there was,” Tommy said easily. “Just ain’t for me.” He glanced toward youthen, grin sharpening. “Some of us still enjoy the chase.”

You didn’t even turn around. “Do you.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said, pleased with himself. “Met a brunette Thursday. Smart. Funny. Thought about callin’ her again but-”

“But?” Joel asked flatly.

Tommy shrugged. “Didn’t wanna give her the wrong idea.”

Joel huffed. “The wrong idea bein’ you might call twice?”

“Gotta keep expectations low,” Tommy said sagely. Then looked toward you again like he expected applause. “It’s a gift, really.”

You turned slowly, leaning one hip against the counter, expression perfectly mild.

“…Do you think I’m someone else?” you asked.

Tommy blinked. Joel snorted into his mug.

Tommy ignored him. “Anyway,” he went on, warming back up, “I’m just sayin’, I could’ve settled down three times this month alone if I wanted. Women love me.”

You held up a hand lightly.

“Alright, I cannot stress enough how not sorry I am to interrupt this deeply moving autobiography,” you said calmly, “but my family’s having a barbecue next Saturday.”

Tommy stopped mid-brag. “A barbecue.”

You nodded, setting your mug down. “Mm-hm. Backyard. Loud. Too much food. My aunt will absolutely interrogate anyone new within five minutes.”

Tommy leaned back, slow grin spreading. “Well. Now I’m interested.”

You pointed at him immediately. “You are not allowed to flirt with my cousins.”

“No promises,” he said.

“Tommy….”

He held up both hands. “Alright, alright.”

Then he glanced between you and Joel, smirk returning.

“…We all invited?”

“All,” you said calmly. “My mother insisted. Very thoroughly.”

Joel lifted his mug, dry as dust. “Not displeasin’ her then.”

You shot him a look. “You afraid of her or what?”

Joel didn’t even hesitate. “Let’s just say I know whose temper you inherited.”

You blinked. “I have a temper? And not you, mister ‘if you screw that up again I will personally bulldoze this entire project with you inside, and then you can go fuck yourself’?”

Joel didn’t even look remotely ashamed. “He hung the cabinets crooked.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Well I, for one, am grateful for the invite.”

Joel snorted softly. “You say that now.”

Tommy pointed at him. “What, your in-laws scary?”

You lifted a brow. “They’re not scary.”

Joel turned slightly in his chair, settling in like he was about to deliver a weather report.

“A’right,” he said. “Since you ain’t met ‘em.”

You sighed quietly. “Joel-”

“No, it’s public service,” he said, holding up a hand. Then to Tommy: “Listen.”

Tommy straightened immediately. “I’m listening.”

“Her mom,” Joel began, “is nice. Real nice. Feeds you, asks about work, makes you feel welcome.”

Tommy nodded. “See? Easy.”

Joel shook his head. “That’s the warm-up. She’s takin’ your measure the whole time. You won’t notice it happen, but by the end she’ll know your job history, whether you return shopping carts, and what kind of man you are.”

You muttered, “She does not profile people like that.”

Joel ignored her. “Answer straight. Don’t try to charm her. Don’t oversell anything. Just… be normal.”

Tommy frowned. “I am normal.”

“…Be a quieter version of normal. Like half.” Joel amended.

Tommy considered that. “Alright. Who else.”

“Aunt Linda,” Joel said. “Loud. Means well. Will ask you why you’re not married yet.”

Tommy perked up. “I got answers for that.”

“You will not use those answers,” Joel replied immediately.

Juliet smiled.

“Cousins,” Joel went on. “A lot of ’em. They’ll tease you. That’s good. Means they like you. If they stop teasin’, then you worry.”

Tommy nodded seriously. “Understood.”

“Kids everywhere,” Joel added. “If one hands you a water gun, you accept. Refusin’ is seen as weakness.”

You laughed under your breath. “That part is true.”

Tommy grinned. “I excel at water warfare.”

Joel pointed at him. “Do not escalate. God knows Sarah will do enough of that.”

“No promises.”

“Uncle Bill,” Joel continued.

Tommy perked up. “Oh, he the grumpy one you’ve told me about?”

Joel’s mouth twitched. “He’s blunt. He’s quiet. He’s gonna stare at you like he’s measurin’ you for a coffin.”

Juliet sighed. “He does not-”

“He does,” Joel said. “Just let him. Don’t try to impress him. Don’t talk too much. If he likes you, he’ll offer you a beer.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Tommy asked.

Joel shrugged once. “You’ll know.”

You shook your head, but you were smiling.

“Frank, Bill’s husband,” Joel continued, tone easing slightly. “Frank’s your safe zone. Stick near him if you get overwhelmed. He’ll talk to you. Feed you. Make sure you don’t accidentally insult anybody important.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “So Frank’s my handler.”

“Frank is everyone’s handler,” you said, smiling.

Joel leaned back. “He’s the reason those barbecues end without casualties.”

Tommy considered all this, then took a long sip of coffee.

“…Am I allowed to drink?” he asked.

“Yes,” you and Joel said at the same time.

Then you added calmly, “But you are not allowed to flirt.”

Tommy looked personally wounded. “With who.”

“With anyone,” you said. “Cousins. Neighbors. People walking by the house. No one.”

Joel added without looking up, “Don’t care if they start it.”

Tommy lifted both hands in surrender. “Alright. Alright. I’ll behave.”

You raised a brow. “Will you.”

Tommy gave you his most charming grin. “I will… try.”

The kitchen door opened and Sarah walked in mid-conversation, notebook in hand.

“Why is Uncle Tommy smiling like that?” she asked immediately.

Tommy looked offended. “This is my normal face.”

Joel didn’t miss a beat. “We were talkin’ about the barbecue next weekend.”

Sarah froze. “The one at Bill’s house?”

You nodded. “That one.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up. “Did you tell him about the water guns?”

Tommy straightened. “I have been informed.”

She looked at Joel, betrayed. “You warned him?”

“It’s called risk management,” Joel said calmly.

Sarah turned back to Tommy, narrowing her eyes. “…You gonna escalate?”

Tommy leaned in. “Kid, if I get hit, I retaliate.”

Her grin was immediate. “Good.”

Joel groaned softly. “I just said, don’t escalate.”

Sarah shrugged. “It’s a barbecue, Dad.”

Tommy pointed at her. “Exactly.”

You sighed. “This feels like a bad idea already.”

“It is,” Joel muttered.

Sarah grabbed an apple from the counter. “I’m wearing my fast shoes.”

Tommy nodded approvingly. “Me too.”

Joel shook his head, but he was smiling.

“…This is gonna end badly.”

Sarah bit into the apple. “No, it’s gonna end wet.”

And walked out like she’d just declared war.

************

The house had gone quiet an hour ago.

Sarah had crashed hard after insisting she wasn’t tired, then almost falling asleep halfway through brushing her teeth, and now the only light left on downstairs came from the living room lamp and the soft blue flicker of whatever movie had been playing unnoticed for the last twenty minutes.

Joel barely registered it.

You were stretched along the couch, one leg tucked under his thigh. You’d started out just sitting there. Talking. Half watching something neither of you cared about.

At some point you’d shifted closer. At some point his arm had settled around your waist. At some point the space between you had stopped existing altogether.

Now his mouth was at your neck, slow and unhurried, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for anything and still managed to promise plenty. Your hand slid up into his hair in response, nails lightly grazing his scalp in a way that made his shoulders tighten.

“Joel,” you murmured softly, not a protest. Just his name.

He hummed against your skin in answer, one hand braced beside your hip as he shifted over you properly, weight settling between your legs on the couch. The cushions dipped under you. Familiar. Easy. The kind of closeness you’d slipped into so naturally over the past months it no longer felt like a decision.

Your fingers brushed along the edge of his jaw, then down his throat, feeling the way his pulse had picked up. He caught your wrist gently, pressing a brief kiss to the inside of it before letting it go again.

“House’s finally quiet,” he murmured against your mouth.

You smiled faintly. “Mm. Miracles happen.”

He kissed you again, slower this time. Deeper. The kind that made the rest of the room fall away. One of his hands slid to your waist, thumb brushing under the hem of your shirt without really thinking about it, just following the pull he always felt when you were this close.

You shifted beneath him with a soft breath, hips tilting up instinctively, and he felt that familiar low heat settle in his groin. His mouth moved back to your neck. Your hand started removing his shirt.

And then… His phone rang. Loud in the quiet room.

Joel froze. For half a second he considered ignoring it. Letting it go. The world could wait five damn minutes.

Then he checked the screen. Not work. Not a random number. Tommy. He closed his eyes briefly.

You felt it immediately; the shift in him, the way his body stilled where it hovered over yours. Your hand slid from his collar to his cheek.

“Hey,” you murmured softly. “Go.”

He exhaled through his nose once, low and reluctant, then pushed up off the couch enough to reach the phone on the coffee table. He sat back slightly on the edge of the cushion, running a hand over the back of his neck before answering.

“…Tommy.”

He didn’t say hello. Didn’t need to.

There was noise on the other end. Music low. Glass clinking. The kind of background that said bar closing time or close enough.

Then a familiar voice; older, tired, apologetic.

“Joel? Hey. I’m sorry man.”

Joel scrubbed a hand over his face, already knowing.

“…Where is he.”

A sigh crackled through the line. “Still here. I cut him off about half an hour ago. He’s not happy about it.”

Of course he wasn’t.

Joel leaned forward slightly, forearms on his thighs, phone pressed to his ear. You stayed where you were on the couch, quiet, watching him without interrupting. Your hand drifted to his shoulder, grounding without making a show of it.

“He try to drive?” Joel asked.

“He wanted his keys. I didn’t give ’em,” the owner said. “Told him he could call someone or I’d get him a cab. That… did not improve his mood.”

Joel closed his eyes briefly.

In the background he could almost hear Tommy’s voice; raised, not shouting exactly, but carrying that edge he got when he’d had too much and didn’t want to be told what to do.

“He ain’t swingin’, is he,” Joel asked quietly.

“Not yet,” the owner admitted. “But he’s getting louder. And you know how that goes.”

Yeah. He did. This wasn’t new. Not by a long shot.

“How many,” Joel asked.

“Enough.”

The owner sighed loudly.

“I didn’t want to call you, man. But he won’t take a cab, won’t call anybody else. Just keeps sayin’ he’s fine to drive and I’m not lettin’ him walk out like that.”

Joel nodded once to himself, jaw tight.

“…Alright. I’m comin’.”

“Appreciate it,” the owner said quietly. “I’ll keep him here.”

Joel ended the call and sat there for a second, phone still in his hand.

The room felt different now. The quiet broken. The warmth from a minute ago cooling into something heavier.

You shifted closer on the couch, studying his face.

“Tommy?” you asked softly.

He nodded once. Didn’t look at you yet.

“…Bar on Mason,” he said. “Won’t hand over the keys. Won’t leave.”

Understanding settled over your features immediately. A quiet kind of concern.

“Okay,” you said. Simple. Steady. “Go get him.”

He looked up then, meeting your eyes.

There was no annoyance there. No frustration. Just… calm acceptance. Like you understood this came with him. With the life he’d always had with his brother. That eased something tight in his chest even as the rest of him braced.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t,” you said gently. “He’s your brother. Take him home alive. Preferably not bleeding.”

He huffed quietly despite himself, pushing to his feet and reaching for his keys on the side table.

“…I’ll try.”

*********************

When Joel pulled into the lot, the bar’s neon sign buzzed faintly overhead.

Late enough that most of the crowd had thinned; a couple trucks still parked out front, low music leaking through the door every time someone stepped out for a smoke. Joel killed the engine and sat there a second, hands tight on the wheel.

Same place. Same call. Same damn routine.

He stepped out, boots heavy on the asphalt, and pushed through the door. The owner spotted him immediately and gave a small, relieved nod toward the far end of the bar.

Tommy was there. Elbows on the counter, head bent toward an empty glass like it might refill itself if he stared long enough.

He looked up when the door shut. Saw Joel. And for half a second something like guilt flashed across his face before he smoothed it over into a crooked grin.

“Well,” Tommy said, pushing off the stool like this was all perfectly normal. “There he is. I’m sorry man, I told him it was a misunderstandin’.”

Joel didn’t smile. Didn’t say a word. Just walked up, stopped a few feet away, and held his gaze.

The grin faltered a little. Tommy shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels like he could still spin this into something funny.

“Guy here thinks I can’t handle a couple beers,” he went on, gesturing loosely toward the owner. “Got all dramatic about it. Wouldn’t give me my keys. You know how people get.”

Joel’s jaw flexed once.

“Thanks for calling Liam, keys?” he said flatly, holding out his hand without looking away from his brother.

The owner slid them across the bar immediately.

Tommy huffed a small laugh, slurring. “C’mon, man. It ain’t that serious.”

Joel’s hand closed around the keys. Still didn’t smile.

“Let’s go.”

Tommy lingered a second like he expected more conversation. A joke. A lecture. Something.

Joel just turned toward the door. That did it. Tommy followed, muttering under his breath as they stepped out into the cooler night air.

Once the bar door shut behind them, Tommy tried again.

“Seriously, it got blown outta proportion,” he said, hands up in a half shrug. “I wasn’t gonna drive like that. I just didn’t wanna leave my truck overnight. You know how that lot is.”

Joel kept walking. Didn’t slow. Didn’t look at him.

Tommy jogged a step to catch up. “Joel. Hey. I got it handled. You didn’t have to come out here.”

That stopped him. Joel turned then; slow. Controlled. The kind of turn that meant whatever came next had been sitting under his skin a while.

“I always gotta come out here,” he said, voice low and even. “Don’t I.”

Tommy opened his mouth. Closed it. A beat of silence stretched between them under the dim lot lights.

Then Tommy forced a small grin, trying again for humor. “Ain’t that bad.”

Joel stared at him. No smile. No give.

“Bar owner’s callin’ me,” he said. “Middle of the night. Again. ’Cause you won’t hand over your keys and won’t take a cab. Again.”

Tommy’s grin slipped.

“Joel-”

“And I gotta walk in there,” Joel went on, quieter if anything, which made it worse. “Look him in the eye. Apologize. Again.”

Tommy shifted his weight. “I said I’m sorry.”

Joel shook his head once.

“No,” he said. “You said it was a misunderstandin’.”

Silence.

A car passed on the road beyond the lot, headlights sweeping over them briefly before fading.

Tommy dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, it ain’t gonna happen again, alright? I’ll just- next time I’ll take a cab. Problem solved.”

Joel let out a short breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh.

“Next time,” he repeated.

Tommy spread his hands. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Joel’s gaze hardened just slightly.

“…I got someone at home now,” he said.

Tommy stilled.

Joel didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to.

“She saw me walk out tonight,” he went on. “Had to tell her where I was goin’. Why.”

Tommy’s jaw tightened. For a second he actually looked ashamed.

Then he shoved it down under another crooked half-smile. “Aw, c’mon. She ain’t gonna think less of you for helpin’ your idiot brother.”

Joel stepped closer. Not aggressive. Just enough that Tommy had to look at him properly.

“I ain’t worried about what she thinks of me,” he said quietly. “I’m worried about what she sees.”

That wiped the smile clean off Tommy’s face. Silence stretched again. He shifted, suddenly restless.

“…It won’t happen again,” Tommy said, softer now. Still dodging something. Still not quite landing on it.

Joel held his gaze a moment longer, then he turned toward the truck.

“Get in.”

Tommy didn’t say much on the drive. That, more than anything, told Joel the words had landed somewhere. Usually there’d be chatter. Deflection. A joke thrown out like a lifeline. Tonight there was just the low hum of the engine and the occasional tap of Tommy’s fingers against his thigh.

They pulled up outside his apartment building ten minutes later. Joel parked, cut the engine, and handed the keys over without looking at him.

Tommy took them. Turned them over once in his hand.

“…You didn’t have to come get me,” he said quietly. No swagger left now. Just tired.

Joel leaned back against the seat, staring out the windshield. “Yeah,” he said. “I did.”

Silence sat between them.

Tommy exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll figure it out,” he muttered. “Ain’t gonna keep doin’ this.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He’d heard that before. Enough times that the words didn’t land the way they used to.

But he didn’t push. Not tonight.

“…Night, Tommy,” he said finally.

Tommy nodded once and pushed the door open. Paused halfway out. “Tell Juliet… sorry she had to see any of that.”

Joel’s jaw shifted.

“Yeah,” he said. “I will.”

He waited until Tommy was inside before pulling away from the curb, the quiet streets stretching out in front of him. The drive home felt longer than it should’ve. He kept one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping once against it before going still again.

Same old knot in his chest. Familiar. Heavy.

By the time he turned into his street, most of the houses were dark. Porch lights on timers. Windows dim. Normal night. His night.

He parked in the driveway and sat there a second, forehead resting briefly against the steering wheel. Just one breath. Then another. Letting the frustration drain somewhere it wouldn’t spill over inside the house.

When he finally stepped in, the living room lamp was still on. You were curled at one end of the couch, a book open in your lap you clearly hadn’t been reading. You looked up the second the door clicked shut.

Relief crossed your face first. Quick. Unfiltered. Then it smoothed into something gentler.

“Hey,” you said softly.

Joel closed the door behind him and dropped his keys into the bowl by habit. “Hey.”

You studied him as he stepped into the room, eyes scanning his face like you were checking for something. Tension. Anger. Whatever he might’ve carried back with him.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded once. “Yeah. Got him home.”

You let out a small breath you’d probably been holding. “Good.”

Joel shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, moving slower than usual. The house felt warmer than outside. Quieter. Safer in that way it always did when you were there.

“Was it bad?” you asked carefully.

He shook his head. “Nah. Just… same old.”

That told you enough. He saw it in the way your mouth tightened just slightly, the way you set the book aside completely and turned toward him.

“You shouldn’t have to keep doing that,” you said softly.

Joel huffed under his breath. Not quite a laugh. “He’s my brother.”

“I know.” You held his gaze. “Doesn’t make it fair.”

That landed somewhere deep, somewhere he didn’t always let himself look too closely at.

You hesitated a moment, then asked quietly,

“…How’d you do it before me?”

Joel glanced at you. “Do what?”

“This,” you said gently. “Nights like this one. With Sarah.”

He leaned back against the couch, exhaling through his nose, eyes drifting upstairs, towards the dark hallway where Sarah slept.

“…Addlers helped,” he said after a moment. “Elderly couple next door. Good people. If I had to go get Tommy or deal with somethin’, I’d call ‘em. They’d come sit with her. Or I’d carry her over there half asleep.”

There was a faint huff of a smile, but there wasn’t much humor in it.

“Didn’t like doin’ that,” he added. “Hated wakin’ her up. But… didn’t have much choice.”

You watched him quietly.

“You did it alone,” you said softly.

Joel shrugged once. “You do what you gotta.” He sighed. “…Easier now.”

His hand found yours without looking. You shifted closer without thinking about it. One hand resting lightly against his arm. Not asking. Just there.

“You tired?” you asked.

“Little.”

He turned his head then, finally looking at you properly. Soft lamplight. Hair loose like you’d been waiting awhile.

“You didn’t have to stay up,” he said.

You mouth curved faintly. “I wanted to know you got back okay.”

Something in his chest eased at that. Just a notch. He reached for you without really deciding to, hand settling warm at your waist, drawing you a little closer until you leaned into him easily. Familiar. Right.

You sat there a minute without talking. Just breathing the same quiet air. The kind of silence that settled things instead of stretching them thin.

“…He say anything?” you asked eventually.

Joel shrugged once. “Said it won’t happen again.”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. 

He tipped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes for a second. Felt your fingers slide lightly along his forearm. Absent. Grounding.

“I hate that you had to see that,” he said finally, voice low.

Your hand stilled. Then shifted, sliding up to his shoulder instead.

“Hey,” you murmured. “I saw you.”

He opened his eyes.

You held his gaze steadily. No judgment. No pity. Just… understanding that went deeper than he’d expected.

“You showed up,” you went on quietly. “You handled it. You didn’t make excuses for him. You didn’t ignore it. That matters.”

Joel swallowed once, jaw tightening briefly before easing again.

He let his hand drift from your waist up along your back, pulling you fully against him this time. You came easily, folding into his side, your head settling near his shoulder like it belonged there.

The house was silent around you. Sarah asleep down the hall. Night settled in deep.

“…C’mere,” he murmured, more to himself than anything, pressing a brief kiss into your hair.

You exhaled softly and relaxed into him.

The tightness in his chest finally started to loosen.

******************

Nobody mentioned Tuesday night again.

Tommy showed up to work the next morning like he always did; coffee in hand, jokes ready, acting like nothing had happened. Joel let him. It was easier that way. Always had been.

You didn’t push either. You treated Tommy the same; warm, normal, like you hadn’t seen the tight, ugly edge under the charm.

But Joel noticed the way your eyes lingered on him a little longer now. Not judging. Just… seeing. It sat there between you all week. Unspoken. Unresolved. Waiting.

The next Saturday, Joel stood at the base of the stairs with his keys in one hand and his patience running on fumes.

“Sarah,” he called up, already halfway into the tone that meant business. “We’re gonna be late.”

No answer.

Tommy lounged against the kitchen counter behind him, drinking juice he absolutely hadn’t paid for and had no intention of thanking anyone for.

“Relax,” he drawled. “She’s almost eight. Not the groom.”

Joel shot him a look. “It’s a barbecue. People notice when you show up late.”

Tommy grinned. “You notice. Normal people just eat.”

Joel ignored him and tipped his head back toward the stairs again. “Sarah!”

A muffled voice floated down. “COMING!”

Tommy leaned in slightly, just to be annoying. “You nervous, Miller?”

“I ain’t nervous.”

“You’ve checked the time four times in two minutes.”

“Shut up.”

Tommy smirked. Behind them, the soft sound of cabinet doors closing.

Joel turned automatically. You stepped out of the kitchen carrying a baking dish wrapped carefully in aluminum foil, one hand steadying the bottom as you moved. The late light from the window caught you just enough to make him pause mid-breath.

Sundress. Light. Easy. Soft color that did absolutely nothing to help his ability to think like a normal person. Hair loose. Bare shoulders. Like you’d stepped out of some domestic daydream and into his actual house.

Tommy saw his face and went very still with interest.

Joel stared for a second too long. You caught it immediately, your mouth twitched at one corner.

“…What,” you asked, already suspicious.

Joel leaned a little closer as you reached the entryway, lowering his voice just enough that Tommy wouldn’t catch it.

“I thought you said you wanted to leave the house today,” he muttered under his breath. “What’re you doin’ dressed like that.”

Your lips pressed together, trying not to laugh.

“That’s a normal dress,” you murmured back.

“Mm,” he said. “Don’t feel real normal.”

Tommy made a quiet choking noise behind you.

You shot him a quick glance, then looked back at Joel, eyes bright with amusement. “Behave.”

He didn’t answer. Just took the dish from you automatically so you could grab your bag.

Right then, thunder on the stairs.

“READY!”

Sarah came flying down at full speed, nearly missing the last step in her enthusiasm, already talking before she’d fully landed.

“Did you make the brownies? Did you make the good ones? Is Uncle Bill gonna be there? I mean, of course, it’s his house. Can I sit in the front? No, wait, I can’t sit in the front, never mind-”

Joel stepped aside automatically so she didn’t crash into him. “Easy. Shoes on?”

She lifted a foot. Sneakers. Untied.

He pointed. She groaned and dropped to tie them at record speed.

Tommy pushed off the counter, setting his empty mug aside. “Alright,” he said, stretching. “Let’s go meet the infamous in-laws.”

You shot him a look. “You’re meeting people. Not performing.”

He grinned. “Same skill set.”

Joel opened the door and stepped out first, dish in hand. You followed, Sarah bouncing ahead toward the truck like she’d been shot out of a cannon.

Tommy paused beside Joel as they reached the driveway, lowering his voice just enough.

“…You’re in trouble,” he said mildly.

Joel didn’t look at him. “Shut up.”

But he was still watching you as you walked ahead of them toward the passenger side, sunlight catching in your hair, and there was absolutely no bite behind the words at all.

The drive wasn’t long, but Sarah treated it like a cross-country expedition.

“Is Uncle Bill gonna have the grill going already? He always does it too early. Last time everything was done before people even got there.”

You laughed softly from the passenger seat. “He likes being prepared.”

“He likes control,” Joel muttered from behind the wheel.

Tommy snorted from the back. “Respect.”

You turned down a quieter road lined with older houses and big yards, the kind with deep porches and trees that had been there longer than any of you. By the time Joel pulled up along the curb, the place was already alive.

Cars lined the street. Voices carried through the warm afternoon air. Somewhere, a radio played low classic rock under the steady hiss of a grill.

Bill and Frank’s place sat back from the road, solid and lived-in, with a wide backyard partially visible through the side gate. Folding tables. Coolers. People moving around with plates and drinks. Easy chaos.

Joel killed the engine.

Sarah was halfway out of the truck before it had even fully stopped.

“WALK,” Joel called automatically.

“I AM WALKING,” she yelled back, already jogging toward the open gate.

You watched her go with a soft smile, then reached for the baking dish Joel had set on the console. He got there first.

“I got it,” he said.

You let him take it, your fingers brushing briefly. Familiar. Easy. Still enough to send that quiet, steady warmth through his chest.

Tommy climbed out last, stretching like he was arriving at a resort. “Alright,” he said under his breath. “Game face.”

You shot him a warning look over the roof of the truck. “Normal face.”

“Normal is subjective.”

Joel shut the driver’s door and jerked his chin toward the gate. “C’mon.”

They stepped into the backyard together.

It was already in full swing. Kids running through the grass with plastic cups of juice. Someone tossing a football near the fence. A long table covered in food that kept growing as people added dishes. The smell of grilled meat and charcoal hung thick in the warm air.

And near the grill, tongs in hand like a man born holding them, stood Bill.

Sarah didn’t even slow down.

“Uncle Bill!” she yelled, already halfway across the yard.

Bill turned from the grill, expression stern by default, until he spotted her. The stern cracked just enough.

“There she is,” he said, like he’d been waiting.

She barreled into him. He absorbed it without complaint, one large hand settling briefly on the back of her head before he gently redirected her out of splash range from the grill.

“Watch it,” he muttered. “Hot.”

Frank appeared from the patio carrying a bowl of something green and unnecessary-looking.