#cherrycherry

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18-19, Joel is 35-36), set in September 2003, angst, family drama, drunk dialing, phone sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v sex, alcohol drinking (only Joel), reader runs into her estranged father who now has a new family, Joel once again using his fists to solve problems which gets him arrested, mentions of blood and gore after a fight (later mention of broken nose and needing stitches), Joel's guilt causes him to break up with you once and for all, reader refuses to take care of herself as a self-inflicted punishment, no use of y/n (if I've left anything out please let me know)

Author's note: this took forever to write because honestly a big part of me didn't want to do it. Thank you for sticking with me, those of you who have been reading from the start!

Series Masterlist

"Stay."

That word haunts you, so varied in its meaning. Stay of execution. Please stay for lunch. You chose to stay with your mom despite the fact that Joel asked you to stay with him in Austin.

It's the first thing you think about when you wake up each morning. That stupid word, haunting you like a specter. And there's that little voice in the back of your head that taunts: 'You could be with him right now, waking up next to him, the warmth of his arms enveloping you as he nuzzles your neck, rousing you with a firm morning hard-on before you have to get up to go your separate ways for the day.'

Then you remember the reason you left him in the first place. It makes you sick to your stomach to think that everything he'd done with you had only been a repeat session of what he'd done with your mom. Who, by the way, has fussed over you since you moved back in. You took a pregnancy test at her behest, giving a silent sigh of relief when the results read negative.

She hounded you for details, of which you gave her none. Her jealousy was disgusting to you, and pitiable. And though you shared a man with this woman, unknowingly, the only difference was you'd given your heart and she had not.

You walk on eggshells around her for the first few days, unsure how to navigate this new territory. You're not sure how to move on from here, unwilling to address what happened yet desperately wanting a sounding board. You can't talk to the problem about the problem. You feel like a prisoner in your own home, deprived of the love you should have been given years ago that instead has become suspicion and doubt. You weren't even allowed to attend your friend's wedding because your mom thought it was in bad taste to attend a ceremony for such a young couple. Even though she herself got married younger.

Meanwhile your phone stays quiet, no calls or texts from Joel, but Sofia is kind enough to give you details. Unfortunately it's quiet on their end. She's still with Tommy, having finally succumbed to being in a relationship despite her initial misgivings. She only sees Joel now and then, and he smiles hello or good evening to her, but that's it. Sarah has been hanging out with new friends and seems happy.

Your stomach twists in knots at Sarah's deceptiveness. You can't help but wonder if Joel knows, if they're on speaking terms, but it's awful to wish that on a kid. If it came between your father and your friend, you might choose the same course she did.

By Labor Day you have your schedule to keep you busy: early British literature at nine, creative writing at noon, and a few other non-major related classes just to keep you from having to think too much on things you don't have a handle on.

At your new university you run into a few friends from school, people who either didn't want to leave home for the adventure of a lifetime, or couldn't get into the more prestigious schools in the state. It's still a good school, just not the one you wanted.

It was embarrassing having to tie up loose ends in Austin, calling Hailey at the cafe and telling her that you've moved, keeping in touch with friends only through texts, with meager promises to meet up soon, make a road trip out of it. You're not naive enough to actually believe any of it, but it's nice to come away from the situation with a little bit of kindness.

Your mom tries to get you to go over with her to her family's Labor Day cookout, but celebration is the last thing on your mind, least of all with her. You stay home alone, reminding her there's no way you can get up to any trouble. She's flattened out whatever spirit was left in you and she knows it but won't admit it.

With the house to yourself, you study in the living room, the TV tuned in to a rerun of NYPD Blue. Your short story that's due this week sits abandoned, half-written as your attention drifts to the screen, watching the cops interrogate a cute goth guy named Dio.

Your cell phone rings, bringing you out of your daydream. Sofia's name shines on the caller ID.

"Hey, cous. What's up?" you lean back on the sofa, a can of Vanilla Coke at your lips.

"Hey there.. babygirl," Joel's voice murmurs over the line. You sit up straight.

"Joel.." you repeat dumbly, in shock. "What.." your mind goes blank.

He chuckles on the other end of the line, and you feel a warmth in the pit of your stomach when he mutters your name. "God damn it I miss ya," he slurs.

"Are you drunk?"

"Naw, baby.. well a little." Wherever he is you can hear Tommy in the background, and Sofia demanding her phone back.

"Came out tonight and thought about ya.. ain't heard from ya and I missed your voice."

"Oh, Joel.." you sigh, different emotions warring within you. "I don't think that I should be talking to you.."

"Cherry!" Tommy's ebullient, voice comes over the line now. "Cherry, Joel misses you! He's been cryin'! There ain't no other woman for him 'cept you!"

Tommy's words become unintelligible. There's a jostling sound and soon Sofia's on the phone. "Sorry about that.. I guess the Miller boys are a little out of control tonight," she says, forcing a laugh. "Joel asked to use my phone but I didn't know he was gonna use it to call you." It sounds like Sofia's outside, away from the blare of the music and sounds of drunkenness.

"It's all right.. how is he?"

"I think he's lonely," she answers. "It was supposed to be just me and Tommy out tonight, but Joel invited himself along as a third wheel. Tommy says you broke his brother's heart," she adds softly.

You shake your head. "Sofia, you were there. You know the truth now. How can I forgive him for hiding so much from me?"

"I can't speak for him, but I will say that we all make mistakes. He's only human."

You sigh, plopping yourself on the sofa after pacing the room. "What should I do?"

"You care about him, right?"

"Of course."

"Maybe just hear him out. Then you can decide what your next step should be."

"Tell him to call me when he's sober."

She chuckles. "No guarantees he won't try tonight."

Joel calls the next day, and you call him the next night, with sporadic texting in between. You're treading carefully, talking about mundane things until it feels okay enough to talk about what happened between you.

He tells you the same story as your mother, and you steel yourself listening to the man you love talk about the life he had before he met you. He doesn't leave out the parts about other women, how he tried to cover his broken heart instead of facing it head on and healing it, how he lost the best friend he'd ever had over a woman who didn't care for him.

"She doesn't love you," you whisper into your phone one night, tucked under the duvet so that you won't be overheard by your mom. "She never did.. but I still do."

It's this revelation that brings you together, has you calling each other "babe" and "love" all over again. Before the end of your first week reconciling you're already whispering filthy things to him over long phone calls, your hands drifting over your body, excited to come for him as he growls his commands over the line, there you go, babygirl, just like that, come on your fingers.. now suck them off, I wanna hear it and you do come for him, knowing there can never be anyone else for you, no matter what.

"I'm comin' to see ya," he tells you one morning as he's heading to work and you're in the university parking lot.

"Joel, you can't-"

"Then come here."

"Three hours away? Four or five with traffic? You're crazy. Mom would come looking for me."

"Then let's meet in the middle."

You consider this. "What's the halfway point between Houston and Austin?"

"There's Brenham," he suggests.

"I've never been there." You toy with the cherry scented air freshener hanging from your rear view mirror. "Could we tour the Blue Bell factory?"

"That we can.. among other things." You can hear the suggestive smile in his voice.

You make the excuse that you have to do extra credit at another campus and are able to get away for the weekend. The drive is over an hour long, and your heart feels like it may just hammer its way out of your chest cavity the entire time. It hasn't really been that long since you've seen Joel, and just as you pass through Cypress you wonder if it's a good idea after all. But your heart is young and easily swayed to the will of your fantasies, among them being that you and Joel are meant to be, just a pair of star-crossed lovers who will find their way together again, beyond the chains of society dragging them down.

You reach the small diner in Brenham, taking a deep breath before you leave the car, then another before you open the door to the restaurant.

And there he is, in a booth in the corner. Your heart skips a beat before it lodges in your throat.

It's only been a few weeks since you've seen him but in that moment you swear it's been an eternity.

It's like a movie in slow motion: Joel rises from his seat as you near him, and without hesitation you go into his open arms, which wrap lovingly around you. The world stops for a brief, beautiful moment.

There's not much to catch up on, you soon find out. It's barely been a few weeks since you've seen him. Everything is the same as when you left, only everything has also changed.

"I can't stop thinking about you, about the way we left things," he says urgently, under the sad and lonely twang of the steel guitar from whatever old country song the diner's jukebox is playing. "But you said you need to figure things out, so I'm givin' you that space you need," he says.

His hands clasp yours across the table, between the half-eaten plates of food you've neglected in favor of discussion. "I meant what I said, babygirl.. I can't see myself with anyone else."

Your heart clenches at the thought, even as the rational part of your brain tells you it's impossible, that you experienced the strongest pull of attraction with a man old enough to be your father, and you both let your emotions get the best of you.

It dawns on you that you've only known him for three months.

It also dawns on you that you only have this one life, this one chance to be happy at all, especially now that you're under your mother's roof again, no escape in sight until you graduate and land a job. Right now, in this slice of a moment, you have complete and total freedom from things you don't want to belong to.

"Joel.." you whisper, and he clasps his hands tighter around yours. "Let's get out of here."

There's a motel across the street, the kind that serves wayfarers and illicit lovers, of which you and Joel are both.

Your fingers are intertwined as he pays at the front desk, and his arm is slung around you as you walk up to your allotted room. The moment the door closes behind you, Joel's self-control snaps like a broken guitar string. He surges towards you, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you into a passionate kiss, his lips melding with yours in a desperate collision of desire and need.

You kiss him back, desperately tasting his mouth, molding your body to his in a frantic need for him. His hands travel down your body, rough palms roaming over your curves. His tongue slides into your mouth as he pulls you close, his muscular frame crowding you.

"Yes," you whisper in between fiery kisses. This is the only thing that feels right, the only thing I want in the entire world. You lift your shirt over your head, shove your shorts down your legs before your hand teasingly slips down the front of his jeans, rubbing him through his boxers. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat as he presses his hips forward into your touch.

"All for me?" you ask, wrapping your hand around his generous length, your cunt already feeling its velvety thickness inside you.

Joel nods, his muscles tensing as your touch ignites a fire within him. "Only for you," he whispers, voice rough with desire. "I think about you all the time, in places I shouldn't," his breath shudders as you fall to your knees, pulling his jeans down the rest of the way and immediately taking him into your mouth.

"Like where?" you ask, keeping your eyes on him as you swirl your tongue around his cock, itching for him to take you then and there, but you've waited so long and pined so hard that a little teasing is in order.

His thick fingers card through your hair, gathering the length in a ponytail to gently guide you down on his cock. "In my truck, in the shower, in bed.." he grunts as your mouth envelops what it can of him, and he's careful not to push in and have you choke on his dick like he wants to. "Sometimes I even catch myself thinkin' about you while I'm workin'. You're dangerous, babygirl."

A thrill goes through you, an electric shock straight to your senses when you hear this. "And what do you think about?" you ask, pumping him with your hand.

Joel puts his hand over yours, stilling it, not wanting to risk that he's gonna explode after a couple of strokes, like some damn high school kid. "Everything, darlin'.. I think about every part of you: how good you smell, how good you taste, how damn perfect you are. I think about how I want to devour you, take you as mine and never let go."

"Don't let go of me again, Joel.. promise me," you say as he rises you to your feet, pressing your body flush to his, able to feel every contour, the hard parts of him that you dream about on a nightly basis.

His arms tighten around you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and regret as he watches your reflections in the dresser mirror. "I won't, baby, I promise." His words are both a vow and a prayer. "I won't let go of you ever again."

His hand glides up your back, his fingers tracing the ridges of your spine. "I've missed you like crazy.." his deep voice is filled with need. "Missed touchin' and holdin' you like this."

"No one has to know what it's like between us," you sigh as his touch ignites your senses. For all intents and purposes, no one knows that you're here, and once again you're a secret.

"No one," he agrees, bringing you to the bed. "Just me and you. No one else has to know, because this?" He slips his hands down your panties, making you gasp, and he growls in return to feel you warm and wet, welcoming. "This is ours, no one else's."

In no time at all you're sprawled on the bed, panties and bra discarded on the motel carpet. Joel's between your legs, pressing a teasing kiss to your mound, his fingers circling your entrance. As you writhe and moan beneath his touch, his tongue darts out to taste you. "So responsive.." his breath his hot against you as he pushes a finger inside.

A needful groan leaves your lips. You haven't been able to match this intensity with just your own fingers since you left him. "Don't stop," you beg. His breath stutters at your pleas, devoting himself to bringing you pleasure. His fingers and tongue work in tandem, stroking and caressing you from within and without. He wants nothing more than to draw out every sound you can possibly make.

"You taste like heaven, babygirl," his voice is rough and heated. "So damn good. I could do this all day, just for those beautiful moans."

Joel watches as you come apart beneath him, your body arching under the onslaught of pleasure he's given you, and his heart swells with desire. "That's my girl," he whispers. "Just beautiful."

You're left trembling, a complete puddle when he's done with you, and you've never been more satisfied in your life. "God, I missed that.."

He kisses his way up your body, leaving a trail of soft, tender kisses along your soft skin until he reaches your lips. When he gazes at you, his eyes burn with love and lust. "I missed it too," he says. "Missed touchin' you like this, hearin' you say my name, seein' you all flushed and breathin' hard. Drove me crazy not havin' you near."

And then he's inside you, burying himself to the hilt, fucking you like it's the last time he ever will. It's like he's twenty years younger, on the verge of coming within minutes, until he shifts you into different positions to stave off the need to cum, not satisfied to help himself to his own pleasure until you're too weak to mumble your own name.

You lose track of all time, lost in the feel of him as he fucks you hard, then softer, desperately, and as if he has all the time in the world. It's a blur of sweat and sighs and tangled limbs for the rest of the afternoon.

The next few weekends are spent in this way: meeting at the motel at the halfway point between your city and his, holing up in the room and only leaving to get food.

"I wanna be with you forever.." Joel slowly kisses his way down your body. The sun is setting, casting a golden hour glow in the room, and you're both resting atop the rumpled sheets and strewn pillows.

"Forever?" you repeat with a love-drunk smile.

"Forever baby," he reiterates. "I don't want a life without you in it," he whispers as he makes his way even lower.

You sigh his name sweetly. "Maybe after I finish college I'll find a place in Austin."

"Really? You'd move to Austin to be with me?" He situates himself between your thighs, a thousand kilawatt smile on his face.

"Yeah.. I actually really like it there.."

"I'd love it if you were closer to me," he sighs. "Plus payin' for these rooms is gettin' damn expensive." He pauses. "Nothin's stoppin' you from comin' back sooner, y'know.."

You search his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, the love that has drawn you in since the very beginning. "I'll finish out this semester and we'll talk about it," you tell him, delighted when his eyes light up at the prospect of having you with him again.

"You could stay with me.. for good.. forever.." he says, kissing down your body with each word.

You lay naked in his arms, satisfied, yet always aching for him in your heart and in your soul. "Forever sounds so good with you," you murmur, your voice a little hoarse from giving screams of pleasure earlier.

The following week is your shared birthday, and though Joel is less enthusiastic about turning a year older, he loves seeing how caught up you get in planning a little getaway for the both of you. San Antonio is as safe a place as any, and not likely to be too crowded this time of year.

The first night, your birthday night, is spent traversing the colorful Riverwalk, romantically lit, placid, even among the neon signs of the shops, bars, and restaurants. You choose a place to have dinner, sitting on the patio and enjoying the mild September weather.

"How does it feel to be thirty-six?" you ask, watching him with hearts in your eyes as you rest your chin on your hand.

"Same," he shakes his head. "How's it feel to be nineteen?"

"Amazing," you smirk.

"Youth is wasted on the young."

"I see you finally got your watch fixed," you smile, tapping the glass face.

"That.. yeah, Sarah got it fixed for me, gave it to me as a present before I left."

The mention of her still makes your stomach drop and you go quiet.

"She misses you," he says. "Been talkin' about you a lot lately. She wanted me to give you this."

"She knows you're here with me?"

Joel shrugs. "Word gets around. Maybe Tommy said somethin'.. either way, I'm not keepin' you a secret no more."

You plant a soft kiss on his lips before unwrapping the small jewelry box he gives you. Inside is the missing earring you thought you'd lost forever God knows where, probably in a nook or cranny of Joel's truck one hot night, but here it is, the mate to the one in your jewelry box at home.

"Give her my thanks," you tell him, wondering if he knows she's the one who tore them apart in the first place. Talking about it would just ruin the night, so you slip the box into your purse for later. "Looks like I'm getting back everything I ever thought I lost," you smile, holding his hands across the table.

When the music gets too loud to talk over, you write cute love notes on the napkins, reading them quickly before the condensation on the table, courtesy of Joel's beer, smears the ink.

After dinner you stroll along the river, arm in arm, and he leads you back to the hotel, thankfully within walking distance. Once inside your room you can't keep your hands off each other, taking advantage of the night, of the anonymity of being in a different city. The bed is bigger than the shitty motel in Brenham, the sheets are softer, and Joel takes the little piece of chocolate that housekeeping left on your pillow and places it in your mouth, as his lips travel down your body to get you worked up with your tongue. He's promised you a gift but he's saving it for the end of the weekend. Right now he'd drawled, you'll just have to be satisfied with me making you cum.

Joel's up earlier than you the next day. Not even his circadian rhythm goes on vacation. But he's left a note saying he's going out to get breakfast, not content with with having the continental breakfast the hotel serves. An intrusive thought pricks at your mind: maybe he just doesn't want to be seen with you at a hotel, even in front of strangers.

You shake that thought away, getting showered and dressed.

On the way to the front desk to check for messages, you hear a familiar voice as you turn the corner. A middle-aged man, average height, wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and cargo shorts, speaks with the morning concierge.

"..the couple in room 478 was very loud last night. They kept me and my family awake, and honestly that's not the kind of thing I want my young kids to hear.."

You realize you and Joel are the ones in 478 that he's complaining about, just before your breath hitches in your throat. Everything, in fact, seems to slow and still as you approach the desk, nearing the man making the complaint.

Dad..?

He leaves the desk before you can go up to him, only seeing him from the back as he goes in the opposite direction, on his way to the free hotel breakfast. Your feet don't allow you to follow him, mired as you are to the floor. The concierge addresses you three times before you hear her.

"Miss? Is there something I can help you with?"

You've completely forgotten what you came here for, and meager words form on your lips. "That man.. what's his name?"

She shakes her head. "I'm afraid I can't give that information."

"Well.. what room is he staying in?"

"Again, I can't give out that information, sweetie. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"..no.." you answer, voice barely a whisper, walking slowly back to your room.

"Somethin's on your mind," Joel says casually, watching you as he sips his ice cold beer. "I can tell. You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, babygirl."

The sun is high overhead as you both enjoy lunch on the patio of one of the nicer restaurants in town. You'd initially balked at the priciness of the place, but Joel had insisted. You ate sparingly even though you were hungry. The breakfast tacos from that morning had only given you and Joel more energy to fuck a couple more times before you decided to walk around the city and get some fresh air.

"Nothing," you tell him, faking a smile. But you can't keep up the pretense for long. "Well.. I think I saw my father at the hotel this morning."

Joel puts his drink down, his gaze settling on you, the most serious you've seen him. "You think, or you know?"

You shake your head. "I'm pretty sure.."

He says nothing for a few moments. "Small world if he's here."

Breaking the tension, you tell him about the noise complaint that you're likely to receive once you get back to the hotel, and it earns you a little laugh from him, and pleasure warms your heart to see him blush.

It's later in the evening when you're strolling, enjoying the city as sunset takes over, gold and purple in the autumn sky.

"I'm thinking I wanna give you your birthday present tonight," he says, nodding as if he's just thought of it.

You're a little embarrassed that your own gift is so meager, whatever money your mother gives you going to gas for the car or lunch for the week.

"Spending this time with you has honestly been the best gift I could ask for," you tell him, grasping his hand in yours.

Your sighting this morning is all but forgotten as you and Joel return to the hotel, arm in arm. From the opposite direction comes the man you saw at reception earlier, in a different Hawaiian shirt this time, but he has his arm around a woman you've never seen before, who's pushing a stroller with young twins inside.

He catches your eye and you see that flash of recognition before he artfully conceals it, looking askance, hurrying his stride and whispering something to the woman he's with.

"Dad?" you call out, despite the part of you that wants to pretend it's not him, that the world is too big and too wide to be conceivable that you'd find him here after so many years.

He ignores you, casting his glance away as he hurries, his wife looking at him in confusion.

"Chris." Joel's voice booms louder than yours, catching your dad's attention. You feel invisible as the two men who haven't seen each other in almost two decades, former friends, practically brothers, reconnect.

But it's not as nice as it sounds.

There's history between them that you don't understand.

All you can see right now is your father, with another family, with absolutely no intention to ever speak to you again.

"Joel." Chris's voice is low, indifferent as you've always remembered it, with a hint of curiosity as his gaze flicks between you and him. And you see the last piece click in place as it registers; while his brain lights up his eyes go dark.

"You wanna tell me what you're doin' here with my daughter?" he moves towards the both of you, a charge in his steps as his purpose becomes clear. Joel stands his ground, shielding you.

"It ain't none of your concern, never was," Joel grunts his reply.

"The hell it ain't," Chris grunts back in Joel's face. You sneak a peek at the woman he's with, maybe five or six years older than yourself, eyes filled with worry as she tries to assess the situation, obviously too afraid to step in.

"Chris, come on," she begs, her accent showing she's not from these parts.

But the men are like animals, neither one is going to step down first.

"If you're doin' with her what I think you are, you're in some deep shit, pal," Chris warns.

"She's an adult and can make her own decisions. And you got no say in her life after leavin' it."

"She's my kid, man!"

It's the first time he's admitted this, and a small thrill of victory floods your veins, quickly thinned when Joel retorts:

"You got a problem with it, come see us in room 478. Oh, and we'll try to keep it down tonight," he smirks, knowing this comment will hit him where it hurts.

What happens next you'll review in your head over and over in the coming days.

Joel barely dodges Chris's punch, but the force of the swing creates a gust of air that grazes his face. He retaliates with a jab to Chris's ribs, landing with a dull thud.

"Dad!" you run towards him, fearing for his safety, knowing firsthand how Joel can switch on to violence in a heartbeat. In the midst of the chaos you try to intervene, grab your dad's shoulder to wrench him away. In his rage-filled instinct he shoves you back, the back of his hand connecting with your cheekbone.

In your daze you stumble back on your ass, hitting the pavement as Joel rams into Chris, knocking him to the ground too. The woman Chris is with starts screaming as Joel slams his fists repeatedly into Chris's face. The sickening crunch of fist meeting flesh, cartilage and bone makes your stomach churn, all your own pain forgotten in the melee of the brutality.

Panicked passersby call for help, try to stop the brawl, come and check on you, helping you to your feet. But all you see are the uniformed cops cuffing Joel after successfully breaking up the fight, leading him to a cruiser, and paramedics coming to your dad's rescue, assessing him. You go to him, hovering over your dad, glimpsing blood and gore before he's lifted onto a stretcher and taken into the back of an ambulance.

It's late, past two a.m. You're curled up in an uncomfortable chair at the hospital, waking with a crick in your neck.

Your dad's going to be okay, the doctor tells you. A broken nose, some stitches, nothing major.

You go in to see him, passing by his wife as she leaves, giving you a sidelong glance, measuring you up. It's not known if Chris has told her about you or not, and this is something you'll never know.

He's sleeping, his monitor beeping steadily. The room smells like disinfectant.

And it's at this point you realize you have nothing to say to him. Any questions that burned in the back of your brain are now ash. The man in front of you is a stranger and has been for years now. He's your father only in biology.

You take a good long look before leaving, at peace with cutting him off. Wondering, asking, waiting.. you don't have the patience for it and he doesn't have the honor to offer you answers. Even if he does, you don't care to hear them.

It's a small relief as you exit through the sliding doors and into the still September night. You'd alerted Tommy to what's happened, and he should be with Joel right about now. Your phone rings in your pocket. Joel's number.

"I'm on my way. Are you at the jail, or-"

"Listen to me, baby.. this ain't a good idea."

You turn cold. "What's not a good idea?"

He pauses for longer than you're comfortable with. "Us, baby.. I'm thinkin'-"

"No," you cut him off before he can say anything final. "No, Joel, you don't mean that."

You're in the car, racing through the late night streets, back to your hotel.

"Listen, Joel, we can talk about this."

You're in the backseat of Tommy's truck in the hotel parking garage. Tommy has gone inside to get Joel's things.

"Joel.."

"You're just a kid," he says softly. He's unharmed from the fight earlier, but he's been through just as much as you have in the past few hours.

"I'm not a fucking kid. Would you have done all those things with me if I was a kid?"

"You know what I mean. You're young, you don't know nothin' about life.. need someone your own age, someone who ain't gonna punch every man who looks at ya with judgmental eyes.. let's face it. I've hurt you by hurtin' others."

"Joel, I don't care about them."

"You're still a little girl at heart, y'know?" he murmurs, his voice taking on a vulnerability you haven't seen in him before. "When I got pulled away from the fight, you went straight to your daddy. I can't fault you for that. It's how it oughta be."

You shake your head. None of this feels real. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life," you whisper as tears trace down your cheeks.

He purposely keeps his eyes away from you, knowing he'll break if he doesn't put a stop to this soon. "I ain't blamin' ya for goin' to your dad instead of comin' to me, but it damn sure hurts, baby. The way ain't made clear for us yet. I can't say if it ever will be."

You grab hold of his hand but he slips away from your fingers in a soft, almost graceful move. "You promised you'd never let go of me again.." your voice is desperate, begging. "Joel, why are you doing this?"

"It's over," he says quietly.

Alone in the hotel room, Joel's side of the closet now bare, his toiletries gone, his side of the bed cold.

You've cried every tear in your body, cried so much you vomited. As punishment on yourself you refuse yourself the necessary water to feel better. If you had never spotted your dad or called out for him, you both could have ignored each other, and Joel would still be here. He would still love you. You don't deserve to feel better.

You comb through the drawers in search of anything that Tommy might have overlooked when he was packing, any little item that would give you an excuse to call him or see him again. You hold onto that tiny shred of hope like a dying ember.

You do a double take when you see an unfamiliar jewelry box among your things. Black velvet. It's not yours. Your heart palpitates at what it could be, yet a part of you already knows, is already in mourning for what was lost. You force yourself to be strong and open it.

Nestled within, on a bed of white satin, is an engagement ring.

dividers by @saradika-graphics & @enchanthings

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