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Moving further down the dirt road, he can see the outline of the dilapidated farm house where he left Ellie watching over you. Its walls crumbled, the roof caved in, the windows shattered, and the once-blue front door hung loosely on its rusted hinges.

Inside, the scene was just as bleak. The remaining furniture was overturned and broken, thanks to raiders tearing their way through any property they came across.

The walls were peeling and covered from floor to ceiling in a thick coat of dirt and grime. A heavy layer of dust had settled over everything in sight.

Moving further into the house, he makes his way to the barricade he had put in place before he left you and Ellie this morning to look for more supplies and any medication he could get his hands on.

 "Ellie?" He huffs out to let her know it is him moving the barricade as he leans his weight on one side of the heavy mahogany book shelf, sliding it along the dingy wooden floor to reveal the doorway.

"Joel? Did you find anything?" Ellie's pleading voice is muffled from behind the closed door.

Opening the door, he finds Ellie in the exact spot he had left her several hours before, sitting on her knees beside the filthy matteress he had laid you on what felt like a lifetime ago.

She was hunched over you with an old rag in her hand, mopping up the sweat that was beading on your forehead. He could see the worry etched onto her face as she did everything she could to keep you comfortable. She looks up at him as he enters, her face grim.

"How is she?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't that he didn't want to disturb you; he just wasn't sure he could stop his voice from breaking if he spoke any louder.

Ellie shook her head. "She's still unconscious, but I think her fever has gone down a bit and the wound isn't bleeding anymore."

Joel just nods, his eyes fixed on you. Seeing you lying there so helpless and vulnerable, like a ghost of your usual bubbly, sarcastic self, the ever-present crease between your brows was gone; your teeth were no longer fussing at your bottom lip; your smart mouth was no longer calling him out on his bullshit; and your face was pallid and covered in a sheen of sweat.

The sight stirred up a storm of emotions within him that he couldn't quite put a name to. Joel knew that he had always been drawn to you, even before the attack.

Though he would never admit it and always did his best to hide it. He couldn't place what it was about you that brought him out of himself, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm's length.

He had vowed to himself that he would never get attached to anyone again. Not after what happened to Sarah.

It wasn't that he didn't want to care about people, but he has learned that in this world, caring for people only brings pain, and he just didn't know if he could survive another loss.

He almost didn't survive it the first time. The faint scar on his temple is a constant reminder of the events he has drank himself into oblivion over on many occasions in the hopes of scarring them from his memory, but it never works.

Though Ellie had always ribbed him when she caught him watching you from a distance, usually when youd set up camp for the night and you were rolling out your sleeping bag or flipping through one of the books you had picked up on the road.

She would jab him in the ribs with her elblow, uttering "Eh? Eh?" with a wiggle of her fair eyebrows. He normally silences her quickly with a stern warning glance, worried you might overhear her.

Now, though, his feelings were more intense, and he didn't know if it was because he was too tired to keep up the effort to hide them or that the fear of losing you was overpowering every other thought that raced through his head.

His mind was consumed by guilt; he had failed. Again. He had failed Sarah. He had failed Ellie over and over, and now he has failed you. Failed to protect you from the man coming at you from behind because he was too fucking old and deaf to hear him coming.

He couldn't fathom why you both had insisted on staying with him when you had both overheard him speaking to Tommy. It was the first time Joel had opened up in what felt like two decades.

He openly admitted to his brother that he knew he was going to get you both killed. He begged Tommy to take Ellie the rest of the way, and he knew that you wouldn't leave her side.

He remembers standing in the stables thirty minutes after he had intended on leaving, pretending to check over the horses saddle and reins, when Ellie walked in, closely followed by you and Tommy.

He offered you both a choice, insisting you would be better off with Tommy. He didn't even make it through his sentence before Ellie was thrusting her pack into his chest, effectively silencing him.

You had given him a reassuring smile and a small nod as you moved to help Ellie onto the horse. And now here you are in front of him, lying lifeless on a soiled mattress in the dead of winter in the middle of nowhere because of him.

He knelt down beside the mattress and took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing small circles into the clammy back of your hand. Motioning to Ellie to pass him his pack, Joel opens it and takes out the supplies he found on his run.

"I found a drug store; it was mostly picked over, but I found this under one of the cabinates." He explains, lifting out a vile of pennicilin and a syringe that is still safely housed in its unopened sterile packaging. He says a silent prayer of thanks to whatever higher power allowed him to find this.

Ellie just nods, her eyes glued to Joel's hands, watching as he takes hold of your hand, turning it so it is palm-up as he rolls your sleeve up past the crease of your elbow, removing his belt and tightening it around your arm.

Tapping at the viens in the crease of your arm but getting no response, you had lost so much blood from the wound that your viens were refusing to stand to attention.

Joel doesn't want to risk injuring a vein, so he decides to inject you directly into your wound. He removes the belt, throwing it to the side, rolls your sleeve back down, and sets your hand back by your side.

"Ellie, Im going to need your help." He murmurs to her, his voice thick with emotion.

"What do you need me to do?" she implores him.

"I can't find a vein; she's lost too much blood, so I'm going to have to put it into the wound. It's going to be painful, but we don't have another option. I need you to hold her still no matter what, okay?" Joel demanded it as calmly as he could.

"Okay, I can do that," Ellie confided, her voice wobbling with the unshed tears that were threatening to spill over at any moment.

"Hey, she's going to make it; she's going to be okay," Joel promises her, his hand coming up to rest on her cheek, wiping away a tear that was making its way down her cheek.

Ellie just nods in response, her tears flowing freely now. Joel pulls the blanket down and gently rolls your t-shirt up your torso, stopping at your ribcage. Removing the bloodied gauze that was covering the wound just above your left hip.

The wound was deep and had left a jagged, misshaped circle of angry crimson on your otherwise smooth, perfect skin.

He tore open the plastic wrapping and removed the syringe from its packaging, taking a deep breath before inserting the needle into the vein and withdrawing the medication.

"Okay, hold her still," Joel says, his voice unsteady as he positions the needle over your wound, placing his other hand on your cheek and rubbing his thumb back and forth, willing you to hear him before he continues.

"Darlin, I'm sorry. This is going to hurt, okay? But it's going to help, I promise."

Ellie nods towards him, signaling she was ready; she has repositioned herself at your head, her hands resting on your shoulders, and tightens her hold on you as Joel inserts the needle and slowly pushes his thumb down on the plunger.

You flinch and groan in pain, but Ellie holds you steady, tears flowing down her face and leaving little dark spots where they land on the mattress.

Finally, Joel withdraws the needle and sets it back inside the packaging in an attempt to keep it as sterile as possible given the current surroundings.

He grabs another patch of gauze from his pack and presses it against the wound. He pulls your shirt down and lays the blanket back over you, tucking you in as best he can, being careful not to jostle you too much.

"That's it, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice gentle as he strokes your hair. "Now we wait," he sighs, more to himself than anyone else.

Joel and Ellie sit in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, exchanging worried glances, unsure of what the future holds.

Despite the uncertainty, Joel is determined to do everything he can to keep you safe and help you recover. He holds your hand tightly, and his thumb continues to rub small, reassuring circles into the back of your hand as he silently vows to protect you at all costs.

As the moments tick by, Ellie's anxiety grows with each shallow breath you take. She feels helpless and scared, unsure if you will make it through the night.

The weight of potentially losing another person she cares about is too much, and she breaks. Loud, ragged sobs break through her clenched teeth, shaking her small frame.

Joel's eyes snap up at the sudden sound, and he can feel his heart constricting at the sight of her tears. He releases your hand, pulling her into a tight embrace. He strokes her hair, whispering words of comfort in her ear as she cries into his chest.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, baby girl," Joel murmurs softly. "We're here for her. We're not going to leave her. We're going to get through this together."

Ellie clings to Joel tightly, her body wracked with sobs as she tries to process her emotions. She's scared of losing you and of what will happen if you don't make it. Joel's presence and his words provide some solace, giving her a glimmer of hope that things might be okay.

The three of you stay like that for what feels like hours, huddled together in the dimming light, listening to the sounds of your breathing.

It's a comfort to hear the sound even out ever so slightly and to know that you're fighting to stay alive as hard as they are to keep you with them.

Eventually, Ellie pulls away from him, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her coat. She looks over at you, still sleeping on the matteress, and takes a deep breath.

"We're going to make it through this, right?" She asks, her voice wavering slightly.

"We are," Joel replies firmly, his gaze locked on you. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe."

Ellie nods, a look of determination taking over her face. She moves back to your side, taking your hand in hers and squeezing firmly.

"We're here; we're not going anywhere."

The hours passed by slowly; it was well past dark now and getting colder. Looking over at Ellie, Joel can see she is fighting to keep her eyes open.

"You need to get some rest; I'll stay up with her." He murmurs; his tone is serious, and she doesn't bother to argue with him.

"Okay, but you'll wake me if anything changes." Ellie pushed, not moving a muscle until she had his word.

"I will," he whispered solemnly.

Ellie stood and stretched for the first time in hours, grabbing her pack and unrolling her sleeping bag a few feet away from where Joel sat by your mattress.

She was so exhausted from the stress of the current situation that sleep found her quickly. In a matter of minutes, Joel could hear her soft snores.

Joel shifted into a more comfortable position beside you, stretching himself out on the floor so he was lying on his side, his head level with your own.

He reclaimed your hand in his. It was cold and limp, and he couldn't help but think about how much he had taken you for granted.

He has known that you were strong enough to handle anything that came your way and that you didn't need anyone's help. But now, as he looked at your pale face, he realised that it was ridiculous to think that anyone could have made it out of that situation in any other way.

He leans in close, his forehead resting against your hand, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I should have heard him. I should have protected you." His voice broke, and he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by your steady breathing, Ellie's snores, and the occasional creak of the old farmhouse. Joel stayed there, still holding your hand, lost in his thoughts. He thought about all the things he wanted to say to you and all the things he wished he had done differently.

He wished he had been more open with you and told you how much you meant to him. He wished he had hugged you and spent more time just being with you.

It was too late for those regrets now. All he could do was sit there, holding your hand or stroking your hair. Willing you to wake up and hoping that somehow, someway, you would pull through. That you would come back to him, and he could make things right.

As he sat watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Joel knew that nothing would ever be the same again. That he would never be able to erase these memories and that he would always carry this pain with him.

But he also knew that he couldn't give up, that he had to keep fighting and keep pushing forward. For you. For Ellie. For himself.

The winters in Wyoming were never kind, but that year, Mother Nature had been particularly cruel. Strong winds and vicious snow blizzards reduced visibility to almost nothing. You had heard those posted to the lookout stations talking over lunches and complaining about how bad the conditions were getting.

So in a bid to keep the good folks of Jackson safe, Tommy and Maria decided to double the number of patrols around the commune in an attempt to keep an eye on the horizon for any potential threats who could be hiding just beyond their sights.

Needless to say, it had been a rather slow work day in the Tipsy Bison, with the usual counting and re-counting of stock, checking on the latest brew of beers and whisky, ensuring everything was going as planned, and cleaning of the already immaculate bar, all finished in record time.

Expecting the usual after-work rush that never came, you sent the other two bar staff over to the mess hall to see if the kitchen needed any help with preparations for tomorrow's meals.

As the two said their goodbyes over their shoulders, you heard one of them mumble a shocked "What the hell?"

With your interest piqued, you stepped out from behind the old wooden bar and crossed the floor to the large square windows at the front of the building. Your eyes followed their gaze and watched as the afternoon patrol crew filed through the large wooden and steel-clad gates of the commune.

You waved as a few of your regulars passed you, a few tipping the brims of their ten-gallon hats. You quickly realised what had drawn your colleagues' attention when your eyes landed on two new faces in the middle of the crew.

The first newcomer was a man; he wore a thick brown winter coat and jeans that looked like they could stand up on their own, and you could see the toe of his work boot was mended with what looked to be duck tape. His eyes were sharp and focused, darting around him as if in search of someone or something.

Instantly, he gave you the impression of someone who had been on the road for quite some time. Having been there yourself, you felt a surge of sympathy for him, but you were still wary of him, not knowing why he had been brought inside the walls.

The second was a girl, whom you assumed to be the man's daughter; she was small and looked to be in her early teens. Strands of her tawny brown hair peek out from under her winter hat. big, bright eyes, taking in her surroundings in wonder, while the man stared straight ahead. The girl seemed to be unaware that all eyes were on her, from those who stood on the street to others standing in shop windows, just as you were.

You followed the other barstaff out to the porch and offered the girl a small smile as your eyes met, she quickly looked away without returning it. It wasn't often that Jackson took in new people, opting to keep off the radar to try and protect what you had here. Maria was on this afternoon's patrol and had no doubt made the call to bring the two into the commune.

As the crew passed, heading further into the small town, you saw the man's head snap to the left, and he opened his mouth.

"Tommy!" he shouted, his deep, booming voice ringing in the silence. In an instant, he was off his horse and running in the direction of the scaffolding that had been put up to repair some of the damage to a neighbouring building.

You watched on in stunned silence as the two men ran towards each other, unsure of what the newcomers intentions were, but before you had made it down the two steps of the porch, the man wrapped his arms around Tommy and began laughing, disbelief colouring the sound.

The two men stood embracing each other, both breathless from laughter, and you knew immediately who the newcomer was. This was Joel, Tommy's brother.

Tommy had spoken of him before; usually after one too many whiskies at the bar, he would open up to you about how guilty he felt about staying off the radio. He would say things like, "It's only a matter of time before he comes looking for me, Y/N; what am I supposed to do? Turn him away?" and "One thing about my big bother is that he's persistent."

You had always offered words of understanding and comfort and almost always cut him off and sent him home after those conversations, knowing that no good could come from him drinking any more alcohol.

Part of being the town's main bar tender was also being a listening ear whenever someone needed it, but with Tommy, it was different. He and Maria had become your closest friends, and you would always be there when either of them needed you, working or not.

You always got the sense that something had happened between the two men that couldn't be fixed. As you watched the brothers reunite, you realised that the thought couldn't be further from the truth.

Maria caught your eye as she dismounted from her horse and jerked her head to the side, beseeching you to join her. You nodded at her and crossed the road to where she was standing, hitching her horse to one of the many posts dotted around town.

"Maria, is that who I think it is?" You asked her quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the conversation.

"Yeah, it is," she spat. "I don't know how the hell he found us out here." She continued, venom dripping from each word.

You knew that Maria had never actually met Joel, but from the stories Tommy had told you both in the early years, she knew what he was capable of and decided then and there that she did not like him. You, on the other hand, had a more objective outlook on things.

You were not involved in the same way Maria was, of course; she and Tommy were married after all, so you could understand her reservations when he opened up about his past with his brother and the things they had done and what they thought they needed to do to survive.

The problem was, Maria had been in Jackson longer than you and Tommy and therefore had less of an idea what a brutal hellscape it was outside the walls. Maria wasn't stupid; she knew that it was dangerous, but it had been so long since she had to live like that, to really be surviving, not trusting anyone you met along the way, not knowing where your next meal was coming from, or if you were going to make it to worry about the next meal.

You, on the other hand, had lived that life for longer than you would like to remember, and though you didn't have innocent blood on your hands, they were far from clean. So you could sympathise with Tommy and the demons that clearly kept him up at night. So you felt the hatred that Maria has for Joel was a little unfounded.

"I'm happy he found him again," you admitted, unable to help the undercurrent meant by your works. What you really wanted to say was "This should have happened a long time ago if you had let him respond to Joel's calls on the radio" Meeting her narrowed eyes, you saw a flash of anger in them. No doubt you will get an earful for that comment later.

You knew what she was going to say: that Joel wasn't going to fit in here in Jackson, that Tommy was better off without him, and that you should keep a safe distance from him. But she didn't have the opportunity, as Tommy was already walking towards the two of you.

Joel had walked back to where the girl waited on her horse; a worried, almost disappointed expression crossed her face as he gestured towards Tommy. You watched as he gently helped her down from the animal, making sure she was steady on her feet before the pair followed behind Tommy.

"Y/N, Maria, ah… this is my big brother, Joel," Tommy announced, his tone a mixture of pride and nervousness.

"Hey, it's good to finally meet you; I've heard a lot about you." You smiled kindly at him; he nodded once in response, his expression guarded.

"I'm Ellie! It's nice to meet you," the girl chirps cheerily before shoving her elbow into Joel's ribs. "Joel, say hello," she all but hissed at him, which makes you chuckle.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ellie." You beam.

"It's, uh, good to meet you," he managed quietly.

Two years later...

A loud knock at your front door startles you. Your hand flies to your heart as you curse under your breath. Who the hell would be calling on you at this hour of the morning?

You pad down the hallway and open the door to find Joel standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seemed keyed up, and your heart drops to your stomach; something must have happened.

"Hey, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is Ellie alright?" You squeaked at him, the panic rising in your chest causing your voice to go up an octave.

"Yes, darlin, everything's fine, Ellie's good; don't worry; I just need to talk to you about something, that's all," he assured you in his thick Texas drawl.

"Everything's good… but you need to talk to me about something at 6 a.m." You questioned him dubiously, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I promise everything is fine; I have morning patrol and was hoping I could catch you before I head out," Joel explains, the ghost of a smile playing on his plump lips.

"Ah, okay, that makes sense, sorry; c'mon, handsome." You laugh as you open the door for him to enter and close it after him.

He follows you down the hall into the small kitchen, lingering in the doorway and studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your figure as you pour him a cup of coffee. Strong, black, no sugar—just the way he likes it.

Turning with the mug in your hand, you let out a breathy laugh at the sight of him. He looked wired, far too awake for this hour of the morning. Was he sweating?

"Joel, baby, are you alright?" You ask curiously as you hand him his coffee and take your usual seat at the end of the dining table.

"Yeah, I just…I wanna ask you something but I don't know how" he confessed sheepishly, his large hand coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.

"I'd like to think you know me well enough by now to know you can ask me anything." You said it with a smile, hoping to calm whatever was causing his nerves.

"Yeah, no, I know, I just don't want to freak you out; there's no pressure, and I understa-"

"Just spit it out, Joel." You interrupt him. In the two years you had been with Joel, you had never seen him struggle for words with you, and it was making you anxious.

"Okay," he huffs out, pulling the dining room chair out so he could sit facing you. He takes a long drink of coffee before continuing, and the suspense is killing you.

"So I was speaking to Ellie, and you know we both love you; hell, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me!" He chuckles fondly: "Look, we've been seeing each other for a while, and now that everyone knows, I think it would be good, you know, f-for Ellie if she had a…I dunno, like a mother figure on a more permanent basis." The words were falling out of his mouth like an avalanche. He desperately hoped he was making sense, but you still weren't understanding.

"Permenant basis? What do you mean?" You ask, confusion clear on your face, making him laugh again.

"Yeah, like on an everyday basis," he enphasises. Urging you to grasp the meaning of his words.

"Okay, um, I mean, yeah, I think that's a great idea. I love that kid. I will tell her about making an effort to hang out every day." You promise him sincerely and are touched that he thinks of you as a mother figure to his daughter.

"That's not really what I was thinking, baby; I mean, on a permanent basis, like you would live in the same house." He husks softly, his eyes searching your face for your reaction, and his heart sinks to his boots as he watches your brows knit together.

"Did you have another fight?" You ask him, reaching your hand up to stroke the side of his face, your thumb lingering on the heart-shaped patch of his beard where the hair refused to grow. "Ellie's always more than welcome to stay here when she likes, but Joel, I don't think her moving in here is the answer."

He takes your hand from his face and holds it between both of his; he huffs all the air from his lungs and slowly takes another deep breath. Straightening in his chair, he locks eyes with you.

"I knew this would be an easy ask, but I didn't imagine you making it this hard on me," he says exasperatedly, huffing out another loud laugh.

"I don't understand." Confusion layers your tone, and you are sure your face is doing the same.

"I'm not asking if Ellie can move in with you; I'm asking if… if you would like to move in with us Y/N" He admits. His brown eyes are soft and lingering on your face, and his thumb is tracing small circles on your wrist.

This was not the conversation you were expecting to have over your morning coffee; your brain was barely functioning, and your mind started to race. The last two years of your life, with Joel and Ellie passing by before you in a blur of colours and memories.

You had sympathised with Joel's struggles to adjust to life in Jackson, and given that you worked in the only bar in town, he quickly became a familiar face. You ignored Maria's warnings to stay away from him; after all, she didn't know him from Adam, and you felt it was unfair to judge someone on the things they had done as the world fell apart overnight.

So, slowly but surely, you found yourself at work, hoping each night that he would stop in so you could get to know him better, and he always did. Always opting to sit at the bar, despite there being plenty of more comfortable booths to sit at.

At first, it was always you who initiated the conversation, asking him how his day was, how the patrol had gone, and how Ellie was fitting in, and you listened tentatively to what little information he would give you. Until eventually, after a couple of months of the same routine, he started to open up to you.

He would ask you how you were, how your shift had been, if you had a good day off, and on occasion he would let slip that he "missed you yesterday" when he called in for a drink on his way home from patrol, only to be disappointed that you were nowhere to be found.

It made you giddy; he was on your mind constantly; it made you feel like there was a swarm of butterflies in your belly, but you thought it was only harmless flirting as there was a considerable age gap between you both, with Joel being in his fifties and you in your early thirties, you didn't think Joel would be interested in a relationship with you.

But how wrong you were! After a couple of weeks of late-night drinks after the bar had officially closed, Joel had bitten the bullet and asked you out, though he asked if you wouldn't mind keeping it between the two of you as he didn't know how Ellie would react to him seeing someone and you gladly accepted.

You understood that Ellie was and always would be his first priority, and you admired his unwavering dedication to her, especially after finding out that Ellie wasn't his blood relative; he had taken her on as "cargo," as he affectionately put it. As a way to get one step closer to finding his brother, but she had worked her way under his skin, much like she did with everyone she met. It was so difficult not to like her. With her quick wit and foul mouth, she never failed to make you laugh. She was definitely his daughter, blood or no blood.

The thought of Ellie brings your mind back to the question at hand: should you move in with them? Was now the right time? Was Ellie even okay about this? Did she even know Joel had asked you? Each question raced through your mind until your mouth found one it could form words around.

"What does Ellie think of this?" You asked Joel intently, reading his face for any signs of worry or panic at your question, but there were none to be found.

"I mentioned to Ellie a few months ago that I thought it would be nice if you were around all the time, and she agreed, and then I sat her down yesterday and told her that I was thinking of asking you today, and she was all for it. I don't want you to feel pressured in any way, though; it's okay if it's too soon; you can say no, and we won't be offended in the slightest!" Joel assures you, his voice is low and genuine.

He lifts his right hand to the side of your face and gently brushes the hair out of your eyes, his calloused thumb stroking back and forth as you lean into his touch, allowing your eyes to fall closed. Taking a deep breath, you throw caution to the wind.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, your voice drops to a whisper. "Yes, I'll move in."

Suddenly your body was moving, and not by its own volition; your eyes were still closed, so your brain was having trouble registering what was happening. When your eyes flashed open in surprise, you were caught up in Joel's arms, spinning around your small kitchen with your feet no longer planted on the floor.

"Joel!" You squeal through breathy laughter, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself.

"Are you sure, baby?" He asks, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes, I'm sure handsome, but I have one condition!" You warn him, arching a fluffy brow.

"Name your price, sweetheart," he smirks at you through the whiskers of his full moustache.

"I get to tell Ellie," You beam back at him, your hand rests on the back of his neck, fingers scractching lightly at the curls that have formed there.

"I think she'd like that," he ghosts against your lips, lightly brushing his nose against your own until you lean up and crush your mouth to his.

Three years later...

It has been a hectic few weeks for the community in Jackson, working through yet another savage winter. You were just through the middle of it, and the end was in sight. The snow storms were not as frequent and the winds were not as wild.

Work has been keeping you busy. You are still the main bartender at the Tipsy Bison, but much to Joel's dismay, you have also picked up a few patrol shifts to lend a hand to Tommy as a few of the older patrol crew stepped back into other work duties due to ill health.

It has felt like months since you and Joel have spent any quality time together, despite living in the same house and working in the same community. Whenever you were both home, he seemed distant and preoccupied, as if there was somewhere else he wanted to be. You tried to engage him in conversation, but he would only give you short answers before retreating into his own thoughts.

At first, you thought that he might just be stressed out from work duty or the weather, as bad as it has been, but as the days turned into weeks, you started to feel a growing sense of unease. You have never seen Joel act this way before, not with you at least, and you don't know what to do.

You miss his closeness; the late-night conversations at the bar while you finished up your shift—all of that has stopped, and no matter how many hours you spent trying to figure out why, you always came up blank.

So needless to say, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with Ellie this evening to help take your mind off your worries. You had stood under the shower for longer than you intended, just enjoying how the steaming water rolled down your tense frame.

With a sigh, you shut off the water and wrapped yourself in your towel, headed into your bedroom to get dressed, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude that the house had heating, an especially rare commodity with the world's current condition. Jackson really was a paradise of sorts.

"Ellie! C'mon kiddo, we're going to be late for the movie!," You shout from the bottom of the stairs, shrugging into your winter jacket.

Movie night Fridays have quickly become a tradition for you and Ellie, especially now that the winter has rolled back around and it's too cold to spend much time outdoors.

"Alright, I'm coming; Jesus, keep your hair on!" Ellie mutters as she makes her way down the stairs, where you wait for her.

"We only have 20 minutes before the film starts, and I know you're going to want to get snacks, so we've got to make tracks." You laugh as she rolls her eyes at you.

"Alright Mom," she mocks, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"You're such a little shit, you know that, right?" You tell her fondly with a warm smile.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," she grins.

"Ah, I see, and does Dina know all about your charm?" You playfully jab her ribs with your elbow, wagging your brows up and down.

"Ugh, you're so annoying; you know that, right?" Ellie counters, always so quick-witted.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," You repeat her words back to her, earning another eye roll.

The two of you leave the house and trudge out into the snow; thankfully, the blizzard has calmed, and now fat, fluffy flakes of snow flurry around you like something from a movie scene.

As brutal as they can be, you have never seen anything more beautiful than Jackson in the winter. It was like something you would see on a postcard of a ski village in the French Alps, all timber buildings and string lights illuminating the small town.

On Friday nights, the mess hall was turned into a makeshift movie theatre for the youth that lived in the commune, offering them some respite from the grind of daily life. It was complete with candy, drinks, and, of course, pop corn.

At first, Ellie hadn't seemed all that interested in going, not knowing many kids her age, but after a lot of coaxing and the promise that if she didn't like it, she didn't have to go again or even stay for the full movie, Though she quickly found her feet with Dina, the rest was really history.

"Where's Joel tonight? I thought he was going to come with us." Ellie asked curiously.

"Oh shit, I meant to tell you earlier; he said Tommy asked him to cover the evening patrol tonight, so he can't make it." You explained, not really sure why Tommy needed him to cover after already doing the afternoon patrol, but it must have been important, so you didn't give it a second thought.

You and Ellie walk in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful walk through town. You were about to ask her how she was getting on with her work detail when she came to a standstill.

"I thought you said Joel was on patrol tonight?" she demanded, her face contorting in confusion.

"Uh yeah, Ellie, I just told you that." You confirm, your own confusion mirroring hers.

"Then what the fuck is he doing in the bar?" She fumes, gesturing behind you to the window of the Tipsy Bison.

Sure enough, there he sits at the bar with Jenna. Joel was nursing a whisky, and she was playfully peeling back the homemade label of her beer bottle. They are sitting in the corner booth by the window, leaning towards each other to the point where their heads are far too close to be appropriate.

In that moment, your breathing stopped. Your stomach sank to the floor, and an overwhelming sense of panic and dread began to claw viciously from your chest up your throat, resting heavy on your tongue.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks nervously, not really sure what to do or say in this situation. It could be nothing, but even to her, it definitely looked like something.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Ellie, why don't you go on down to the mess hall, and I'll meet you there in a few?" You tell her more than ask, your eyes never leaving the window.

"No way fuck that I'm staying with you!" she demands, her eyes growing wet around her long lashes.

"No, Ellie, I need to talk to Joel; I will catch up with you in a few, okay?" You meet her eyes and nod in the direction of the mess hall. She only nods in response; your tone is final as she turns on her heel and storms towards the makeshift movie theatre.

What the fuck is happening right now? You trusted Joel; it never bothered you when the ladies in Jackson would bat their eyes at him or when their glances lingered a little too long. You took it as a compliment; hell, if you were them, you would stare too.

Your relationship was built on a foundation of honesty and trust from the very beginning. You have told him things you have never shared with another living soul, and he has done the same with you. Never in your life did you think you would be lucky enough to share a connection with someone the way you have with Joel, let alone after the world had ended.

And now here you stand in the middle of town, watching the man you love cosy up with another woman in plain sight, not even having the decency to try and hide it from you.

You stand there for another few minutes, watching how he leans across the table to talk to her, laughing and caressing his arm in response. It sets fire to your blood, and you can feel it moving like molten lava in your veins.

You're moving before you realise you have made the decision to do so, your feet carrying you furiously forward, up to the short creaking steps and through the entrance to the bar, and then there you are, looming over their table. Your eyes bore holes into his skull. He jumps in his seat and scrambles frantically to hide the notebook that was sitting open on the table between them. You didn't pay it a second glance.

"I didn't realise the bar needed patrolling this evening," you state pointedly at him, ignoring Jenna, who is doing everything she can to avoid eye contact with you, fidgeting in her seat, and clambering to get her things together. Grabbing her coat and scarf from beside her.

"Hey darlin, I thought you and Ellie were heading to the movies." He asks, his voice rough with his attempts to hide his nerves.

"We were on our way there when she saw this cosy scene from the street." You gesture with your hand towards the table, your voice icy as you let your hand drop to your side with an audible slap, which made Jenna flinch.

"I think I'm going to head out…" Jenna murmurs in a small, quiet voice, still avoiding your gaze.

"That is a wise decision" You agreed without taking your eyes of Joel.

She throws Joel a cryptic glance before clambering out of her seat and quickly making her way to the door, shooting Joel an apologetic glance over her shoulder, which only fuels the rage bubbling up in your throat.

"What the fuck?" You growl at him, doing your best to keep your voice under control. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene. Especially not at your workplace, regardless of whether you were on shift or not.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, genuinely confused by your anger.

"Please tell me you're joking," you seethe.

"What? I can't have a drink with a friend." He scoffs, incredulous.

"Seriously Joel? Since when have you had to lie about working to have a drink with a friend?"

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" he countered, avoiding the question.

"No, I really don't think I am. How could you do this? How could you do this in front of Ellie?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joel huffs back at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes begin to prick with anger fuelled tears; the feeling of betrayal rips through you, leaving you exposed to his hard gaze. You can't take any more of this. It feels like the room is closing in around you. That you will suffocate if you don't leave right now. You look at him once more, and the fact that he hasn't denied it or assured you that this is anything other than what you fear it to be ,allows your world to crumble around you.

"Alright," you manage in a broken whisper that comes out as a choked sob.

With that, you turn and bolt for the door, desperately gasping for air but unable to get enough to fill your lungs. You have to brace yourself on the railing of the porch. You can feel his eyes on you as he watches you leave from where he sits frozen at the table, but he makes no move to follow after you.

Willing your legs to move, you push off the railing and slowly make your way to the mess hall, slipping in just as the movie is starting. You can see Ellie is sitting in the middle of the crowded room, and she has saved you a seat beside her.

You make your way to the restroom, taking in your reflection for the first time that evening. Your face is red and splotchy from crying, your eyes puffy, and your lips swollen from your teeth worrying at them. With shaking hands, you reach out to turn the tap on, splashing the icy cold water over your face as you try to make sense of what has just unfolded.

You knew Jenna; she is one of the few people trained in blacksmithing in Jackson, but you had never been especially close with her. She would frequent the bar and chat with you about her work day and vice versa, but that was the extent of your relationship with her, and you have never seen Joel interact with her. It just didn't make sense; why would he throw everything away for a fling with someone who lives in the same commune? Did he really think you wouldn't find out?

You do your best to shake the thoughts from your head, focused on spending the rest of the evening with Ellie, you will do everything in your power to shelter her from this. So with a deep breath, you put a smile on your face and left the restroom, smiling and waving politely at familiar faces as you made your way to your seat, stopping by the makeshift concession stand to grab Ellie some popcorn and a soda on your way.

"Hey, I've got you some snacks, kiddo." You whisper to her, not wanting to interrupt the film.

"Thanks, are you okay?" She murmered with a small smile. Taking the snacks from your outstretched hands.

"Yes, of course everything's fine; there was a mix-up with the patrols, so Joel didn't have to work tonight after all." You reassured her softly.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

You weren't really sure what movie was even playing tonight, so lost in your thoughts that it was just a blurry hum in the background. Ellie had to nudge your shoulder several times to tell you that the movie had was over. Glancing around to find a steady stream of people filing out of the mess hall.

"Sorry, Ellie, I'm just a bit distracted tonight; work has been so hectic recently, and I have so much to do when I open tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off. Hoping that she will let it go and that she wasn't being as observant tonight as she usually is. The girl misses nothing.

"It's okay, the film was a repeat anyway," she shrugs, not pressing you on the matter, though you know all too well that the questions will come eventually.

"Shall we head home? It sounds like it's getting pretty rough out there," you noted, as another howl of wind wipped around the wooden building.

"Sounds good; I want to have a shower before Joel uses all the hot water again," she ribs in a peel of bright laughter that sends warmth radiating through your now hollow chest.

When you reach the house, you find it in darkness. Joel hasn't made it home yet, and although you are beyond angry, you can't help but worry about him. Of course he can look after himself, but it isn't like him to be out this late if he wasn't on patrol.

The seething voice in the back of your head reminds you that he could be with her. You try to push those thoughts out of your head, but they linger like a dark cloud, casting a grim shadow over what was your perfect - or as perfect as it could be - life.

"I'm going for a shower and then head to bed, you okay?" Ellie asks, once again pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, of course, kiddo, no worries. Do you need anything? You want some tea?" You offer as you head to the stove and place a pot of water on to boil.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though, g'night!" She calls over her shoulder, and then you are alone in the small kitchen.

"Night kiddo," You call quietly to her as you reach for the herbal tea blend that you and Ellie grew in your little garden last summer.

As you wait for the water to boil, your mind starts to race with worry and anxiety. You can't help but think of all the possible scenarios that could be keeping Joel out this late, and the thought of him being with another woman makes you want to break things. You have tried to push those thoughts out of your head so many times this evening, but they keep creeping back.

A few hours later, you are sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, desperately fighting to keep your eyes open, but in the end you give up, gently placing your book on the coffee table and removing the blanket from your lap. You look at the clock on the wall, and it's just after 3am.

You pad into the kitchen and leave your mug in the sink, too tired to wash it now; that's tomorrow's problem. Heading up the creaky stairs to your bedroom and crawling into the cold sheets. It feels wrong going to bed without Joel by your side, but he is god knows where right now, so you lean over, turn the bedside lamp off, and sink into a restless, uneasy sleep.

You wake to the wintery morning sunshine seeping through your bedroom window. Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Slowly sitting up in bed, you stretch your tired bones, sore from your restless few hours of sleep, and swing your legs out of bed. It's only 7 a.m.; you don't usually open the bar until midday, so you have plenty of time to get ready.

You slink down the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie as you do so. Heading into the kitchen mid-yawn, you stop in your tracks as you find Joel standing at the stove, hovering over a pot of boiling water on the closest ring to him.

"Mornin'," he husks without turning; he must have heard you yawning with his good ear to the doorway.

You ignore him, knowing full well that it's petty and childish and ultimately will not resolve anything, but with the way he behaved last night, you feel the cold shoulder is justified.

You both continue with your morning rituals in silence. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn't know where to begin broaching the subject, and the more you stewed over it, the more you felt he should be the one to open the conversation with an explanation, but if you were being totally honest with yourself, you were beginning to worry that you may have jumped to conclusions.

But when you thought about the way they were huddled together, her hand on his arm, and the way she tipped her head back in laughter at each thing he said, the pit in your stomach grew. As did the silence between you.

Things went on like this for days, with the two of you skirting around each other and avoiding eye contact. Only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary, like dinner times, and giving each other your work duties for the week.

You could see the effect this was having on Ellie; she has been especially quiet the last few days, so once Joel leaves for work, you sit with her on the couch and try to get her to open up.

"Ellie, is everything okay?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"I don't know. You and Joel have been acting weird lately, and it's making me tense." She shrugs, not meeting your gaze.

You take a deep breath, knowing that you can't keep avoiding the issue. "Yeah, we've been having some problems. But it's nothing you need to worry about, kiddo."

"It doesn't seem like nothing," she retorts. "You guys haven't spoken in days. It's not like you."

"I know, Ellie. I just don't know how to fix it." You sigh.

"Maybe you could start by talking to him," she suggests.

"It's not that simple, Ellie. There's a lot going on." You shake your head.

"Well, maybe it would help if you talked to me about it," she offers.

"Thanks, Ellie. But it's not something I can really discuss with you. Just know that Joel and I are working through some things and we'll get through it." You smile softly at her, grateful for her kindness.

She nods, not looking convinced but not pressing the issue. You sit in silence for a moment before she stands up. "I'm gonna head out for a bit. Need to clear my head."

"Okay, kiddo. Be safe," you say, watching her leave.

You're left alone in the quiet house, the weight of your problems still heavy on your shoulders. You know Ellie is right; you need to talk to Joel. But the thought of confronting him is daunting, and you don't know if you want to hear what he has to say.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he's not happy and hasn't been for a while?

You decide that enough is enough. After work this evening, you are going to speak to him and attempt to clear the air, hear his side of the story, and try to move forward, if not for the sake of your relationship but for Ellie. It's not fair to have this weighing on her shoulders; it's not her fault, and you hate seeing her unhappy, and you know that Joel will feel the same about his if nothing else.

The workday drags on uneventfully; the only thing standing out was that Jenna had come to the bar for the first time since that evening. She gave you a small smile, and you returned it with a polite nod. You were at work after all and took it upon yourself to remain as professional as possible.

Jenna approaches the bar and orders her usual, which you pour for her without issue, though it makes your skin itchy to be this close to her.

"Have you spoken to Joel yet?" she asks quietly. Wiping her fingertips across the bartop.

You stare at her blankly; the audacity of this woman boggles your mind.

"No," you respond curtly.

"Okay, well, when you do, come and find me. We'll have a lot to discuss." She states matter-of-factly, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Before you have the chance to give her a piece of your mind, she is walking away from the bar, her long auburn hair swishing to her lower back. What the fuck is her problem?

You try to get through the rest of your day without dwelling on the conversation you had with Jenna, focusing more on the impending conversation you are going to have with Joel this evening. Thinking about what you were going to say to him, how you were going to explain how you felt, and how hurt you have been over the last few days.

You lock up the bar and head towards home for the evening, taking a little more time than you usually would, feet dragging, dreading the fight that would likely ensue once you had spoken to him. You tell yourself you will keep a level head, but you know deep down your temper would not allow that to happen if he gave you some bullshit excuse.

As you approach the small, snow-covered pathway that leads to the back porch of your home, you pause there, unable to bring yourself to go inside. So you take a seat on the second step and watch the flurries of fluffy snow as they make their way through the air to join the pillowy blanket that covers everything in sight.

You sit there for what feels like hours. Jackson was always quiet; it needed to be in order to keep what you have here safe, but as you sit in the darkness, the only light coming from the dim porch light and the light seeping through the thin linen curtains from the living room, it feels eerily silent and still. The sound of the backdoor creaking open made you jump. The heavy footsteps that followed, however, were all too familiar.

"You gonna stay out here all night?" He asked quietly, his voice low and soft.

"No, I was just… well, I don't really know what I was doing." You offer a small laugh, void of any humour.

Joel takes a few steps and groans loudly as he lowers himself to join you where you sit. He is quiet for a few moments until he finally speaks.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the other night and how it must have looked. I'm sorry for not explaining to you then and there what it was; I didn't want to tell you, and I still don't really. But I promise you on my life that it is not what you think it is, Darlin," he says softly, regret heavy in his tone.

"I don't understand Joel; I just want to understand what the fuck has been going on," you pleaded, hating how desperate your voice sounded.

"I know, baby, and I'm going to tell you. I just didn't want to ruin the surprise. I also didn't want to tell you without speaking to Ellie first, but I spoke to her at dinner, and now she understands." He assures you, his hand coming up to brush your cold cheek for the first time in days, and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of his palm.

"Okay, so now everyone knows but me, why were you all cozied up with Jenna? Why did you lie to me about going to work?" You challenged him, removing your face from his touch.

"Hold on," he huffs, shifting his weight to one hip as he fishes for something in his back pocket before continuing. "It will make more sense once you see this, or I hope it will at least," he offers as he hands you a beaten-up, leather-bound note book.

"What is this?" You ask him, you remember seeing it on the table in the bar the other night.

"Would you just open it?" he sighs, rubbing his hand through his patchy whiskers nervously.

You do as he says and open the notebook, and what you find takes you aback. The notebook is filled almost front to back with little sketches of rings and little notes about different metals and gems in his familar handwriting and another that you don't recognize.

"Wh-what is this?" You repeat, stunned. So many thoughts racing through your mind and you are beggining to realise that you have completely misread the situaiton the other night.

"I know I was going to have to tell you about it eventually, you know for your size and all but I was planning to do that after I asked you…but then with the other night I wasn't sure what to say and I was kind of pissed off that you where angry at me, I didn't stop to think that you weren't in on the secret and what it must have looked like to you," Joel's hand came to rest on your knee squeezing reassuringly as he explained the circumstances that lead to what you saw in the bar.

"I have been meeting up with Jenna over the last few weeks, she's the only blacksmith in Jackson that used to make jewelry…specifically engagement rings," he paused allowing his words to sink in before finishing his explination.

"We've been trying to figure out how to make you one, what metals mix well from what I have found on supply runs, whether to hold off if I could find a stone or a gem, or if we could make it without one,"

You stare at him, a mix of astonishment and disbelief washing over you. The pieces start to fall into place, and you realize the truth behind Joel's actions. The anger and hurt that had consumed you begin to melt away, replaced by a flood of emotions, the most promanent being embarrassment.

"You were planning to… ask me?" you stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air as you struggle to comprehend the situation.

"Yeah, I was. I've been saving up for months, looking for the right opportunity, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Jenna's been helping me because she's skilled at crafting intricate pieces. I wanted to make something special for you, something that would last a lifetime." Joel nods, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Tears well up in your eyes as the realization of your mistake dawns upon you. You reach for Joel's hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry," you say, your voice trembling. "I jumped to conclusions without knowing the whole story. I never thought…I feel like such a peice of shit, I'm so sorry"

"It's okay, darlin'. I should've communicated better, explained everything to you beforehand. I understand why you were upset." He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"But why did you lie about going to work?" you inquire, still wanting to grasp every detail.

"We thought it would be best if we kept it a secret until it was ready. And I didn't want you to suspect anything. I wanted the proposal to be a surprise, and I was afraid if I told you I was hanging out with Jenna, you'd figure it out before I had the chance." He shrugged.

"Joel, I can't believe you're doing this. You've put so much thought and effort into making something special for us. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I have been so awful to you over the last few days," You let out a shaky breath, your heart filled with a strange mix of relief, shame and joy.

A soft smile graces Joel's lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Don't say that, sweetheart. You deserve the world, and I want to give it to you. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Tears stream down your face now, but they're tears of happiness. You lean in and rest your head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop you. The weight of the misunderstanding lifts, leaving behind a newfound sense of trust and appreciation.

"I love you too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch and for overreacting. I should have known you'd never do anything to hurt me."

"Hey, we all make mistakes, darlin'. It wouldn't be the first time I've got pissed at you for something I misunderstood now is it?." he chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"I guess no ones perfect," you echo his laughter leaning into him further.

As you sit together on the porch steps, surrounded by the beauty of the snowfall, you realize that the snow isn't the only thing that's melting. The icy barriers that had formed between you and Joel are slowly thawing away, leaving behind a comfortable quiet.

"So, now that the cats out of the bag, will you…?" he asks his deep voice thick with emotion.

"Will I what handsome?" You look up at him teasing, your eyes twinkling.

A playful grin tugs at the corners of Joel's mouth as he meets your gaze. "Will you marry me, my beautiful, stubborn, and occasionally misunderstood partner in crime?" he asks, his voice laced with a mixture of nervousness and hope.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and a surge of excitement courses through you. You pretend to ponder his question, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Well, I don't know, Joel. I mean, after all that's happened, can I really trust you with my heart?" you tease, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel feigns a look of hurt, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Oh, come on now. I've endured snowball fights, kitchen mishaps, you and Ellie ganging up on me and even your questionable taste in movies. If that's not true love, I don't know what is."

Laughter bubbles up from within you, and you lean in closer, pressing your forehead against his. "Joel, you are my love and my rock. Of course, I'll marry you," you say, your voice filled with so much love.

In that peaceful moment, wrapped in the calm of the snowfall and the safety of his strong arms, you realize that there will be silly arguments, misunderstandings and cold shoulders, but you will always find your way back to each other. You let out a sigh of contentment as Joel presses silent kisses against your head, happy to sit here forever wrapped up in him.

Realising the two of you have gone quiet, save for the breathing on the other end of the phone, neither of you wanting the conversation to end.

"Adiós Frankie," you all but purr into the phone's receiver. The only thought allowing you to end the call is that you are going to be seeing him face-to-face in a little more than an hour.

Throwing your phone onto the bed, As you sit at your dressing table, you take in your familiar surroundings. The late morning sun casts a warm glow into your bedroom, highlighting the cluttered yet cosy atmosphere of the room. The walls are painted a soothing shade of seafoam green and adorned with a few pieces of art that you've collected over the years.

The table in front of you is a vintage piece you scored at a thrift store; its surface is slightly worn from years of use by previous owners, but you thought it added to the piece, so you decided to leave it as it was and not repaint it.

On it sits an array of skincare products, makeup, and jewellery, all neatly arranged in their designated spots. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of the lavender candle burning on the table, before reaching for your moisturiser.

As you apply it, you can feel its silky texture melt into your skin, leaving it feeling supple and hydrated. Next comes the sunscreen, a crucial step in your skincare routine, especially in the hot and humid Florida weather. You massage it into your skin, making sure to cover every inch of your face and neck.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand, its sleek design contrasting with the vintage charm of the rest of the room. The minute hand ticks steadily, reminding you that time is running out. You pick up the pace, opening your makeup bag and taking out the products you need.

As you apply your makeup, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. There's something about the repetitive motion of brushing on a light layer of foundation, powder, and blush that calms you.

You admire the way the orangey-pink blush complements your skin tone, making you look more awake and refreshed, hiding the restlessness of last night's failed attempt at sleep. You finish off your makeup with a few swipes of mascara, a quick fill-in of your eyebrows, and a layer of your favourite mango-flavoured lip balm.

You stand up from the vanity and dress quickly in the outfit you thanked your past self for having the sense to lay out the night before. You get dressed while planning out your journey. You figure it's early enough for traffic not to be an issue, so once you finish lacing up your white sneakers, you bring up Google Maps on your phone again and check the route to Benny's house.

It tells you that your destination is only a fifteen-minute drive across town, but you wanted to give yourself a buffer so you weren't late. After all, Benny was giving up his Saturday to fix your truck, and the last thing you want to do is take up more of his time than you already do.

Grabbing your denim jacket and car keys from the hall table, you lock the door behind you and head to your car. Clambering into the driver's seat, you turn the key in the ignition, and the beast roars to life. Ejecting the Eagles greatest hits CD and sliding the Hotel California album into the CD player, you put the car in drive and back out of your driveway.

The familiar tunes fill the car, and you sing along to the lyrics. A few of the songs make you think of Frankie, and you laugh at how big of a crush you have on him. It's become a habit of yours to listen to music while driving, and it always helps you relax and clear your mind.

You decide you really shouldn't show up empty-handed, and you want to give them a small token as a thank you for even just the offer of fixing your car. You have enough time to spare, so you flick the indicator on to turn right into the convenience store and pull into a parking space just in front of the entrance.

You grab your bag from the passenger seat and lock the car behind you. The heat hits you like a tonne of bricks, the sun is high in the sky, and there is not a single cloud in sight. You walk towards the store, the pavement feeling hot under your feet through your sneakers.

The entrance door of the convenience store is propped open, and a cool gust of air conditioning hits you as you walk in. The bright fluorescent lights overhead temporarily blind you as your eyes adjust. You head straight to the beer aisle, the cold air from the refrigerators cooling your flushed skin. You run your fingers over the bottles, selecting a crate of ice-cold Budweiser.

As you walk towards the checkout counter, you pass a small display of flowers, sad and wilted from the heat, and a rack of greeting cards. You scan through the cards quickly, your index and middle fingers moving over the cards one by one until you come across one with a drawing of a screw. The pun drawn on the card reads:

"I'd be so (screwed) without you!"

It makes you laugh, and you figure it's the best you're going to get, and given the nature of the DIY job Benny and you assume Frankie are about to embark on, you feel it's fitting.

Heading to the checkout, you greet the cashier with a polite smile, pay your total, and head back out into the blistering heat of the mid-summer afternoon.

Once you are back in the car, you carefully place the beer box on the passenger seat, making sure it's secure, before tossing your bag onto the floor. You rummage through the cluttered glove compartment, searching for a pen.

After a few moments of digging, you finally find one buried underneath a pile of papers. You take a deep breath and write a short note thanking Benny and Frankie for their help, signing it with your name.

"Thank you both so much for being such kind and considerate humans! Sorry about the card; it's the best I could find!"

The rest of the drive itself is uneventful, with only a few cars on the road, and you arrive at the address that Frankie gave you in no time. You turn onto a quiet street lined with tall trees, their leaves rustling in the light breeze. You slow to a crawl, turning the music down so you can see better, scanning the house numbers until you spot the one you're looking for.

As you pull up outside what you believe to be Benny's place, you take a moment to look around. The house is a large, two-story structure, painted a warm shade of yellow, with a well-manicured lawn and a long driveway leading up to the garage. Frankie's truck is parked in the driveway, confirming that you've arrived at the right place.

You take a deep breath, feeling yet another wave of nervousness wash over you. Meeting new people has always been a bit daunting for you, but you remind yourself that Benny is Frankie's friend and that he's doing you a favour. You turn off the car engine and step out, taking a moment to adjust your outfit and smooth down your hair.

You walk up to the front door, feeling a bit awkward as you ring the doorbell. A few seconds later, the door opens, revealing a tall, friendly-looking man in his late thirties. He smiles warmly at you, introducing himself as Benny, and invites you inside.

As you step inside, your eyes are immediately drawn to the tasteful decorations and modern furniture that adorn the interior of the house, which is just as impressive as the outside. Benny leads you to the living room, where Frankie is already waiting for you, a big grin spreading across his face as you enter the room.

He stands up from the couch and closes the distance between you in just two long strides. For a moment, he pauses, as if contemplating what to do next, but the hesitation disappears in an instant.

Frankie opens his arms and pulls you into the warmest, tightest bear hug you have ever received. You feel like he might crush you, but you don't mind at all. You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him back, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his embrace.

The smell of him envelopes your senses—warm vanilla and cinnamon, and the mouthwatering scent of fresh sweat. It was so masculine but so homely and soft at the same time.

"It's good to see you again, Hermosa," he husks into your ear as he releases you from his hold.

You do your best to hide the shiver of pleasure that runs through you at the sound of his deep, gravelly voice.

"It's great to see you too, Frankie." "I can't thank you enough for this, really," you beam at him, feeling relieved that the introductions are over and you can relax a bit.

You don't really know what to do with yourself now that he has released you from his embrace. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room as the two men watch you, one is looking on with friendly curiosity. The other is roaming your figure as if he could devour you where you stand, regardless of who is present.

"That's a really pretty dress," Frankie murmurs, his eyes dark and his expression making your mouth go dry.

It causes a hot flush of blood to rush from your chest up your neck, colour your face deep red, and cause your eyes to drop to the floor. You hear one of them chuckle under their breath, and you're not sure which one it was. 

When you look up from the floor, Benny claps a hand on Frankie's shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

"Well, shall we have a look at your car, Y/N?" He suggested it, his lips drawn up into a friendly smile, a thick eyebrow arched in question.

"Yes, that sounds good, but before we do, I've got you guys something." You hesitated. Not wanting it to seem like anything more than what it was—a box of beer. You let out a breathy laugh as you looked on at their raised eyebrows before continuing, "It's nothing really; it's just a small thank you that I don't want getting warm in my car. I'll go grab it, and then we can get started!" You smile at them before making your way out of the living room and down the hall to the front door. Running a hand through your hair, you laugh again as you take in their confused expressions as they both follow you out to the driveway.

"Oh, I should probably move my truck so you can pull into the garage!" Frankie realises this as he notes your car parked on the curb just at the entrance to the driveway.

"Sure, no problem; I'll let you swing her out; you take my spot?" You proposed.

Frankie nods at you with a wide grin stretching across his face and allowing the dimple on his cheek to show. Benny chuckles and shakes his head, amused by your easy banter with each other.

Making your way to your car, unlocking it, and pulling the door open, you're greeted by a wave of heat that has accrued in the small space during the short time you've been in the house. You hop into the driver's seat and cringe internally at the loud roar the engine makes as you turn the key in the ignition.

As you pull onto the long, paved driveway, Benny stands just a foot in front of the moving vehicle. Walking backwards, he waves you forward, and once he is happy with the placement, he holds his hand palm forward, signalling you to stop. 

You can't stop the laugh that escapes you when you glance out of the window to see Benny's face pinched up as if he were in pain as he assesses the sounds coming from your car.

You put the car in park, turn the stiff window roller as hard as you can to crack the window a little, and climb out of the driver's seat, standing with your hand still holding onto the door.

"Is it bad that it made that noise before the accident?" You say this to Frankie as he walks up to stand beside you, taking the car door from your hand and gesturing for you to move out of the way so he can close the door for you.

As you make your way to the passenger side of your car, you grab the box of beer, resting it on your hip as you reach over to grab the card. You smile to yourself, feeling grateful for these two men who have come to your rescue. You may have only just met them, but already they feel like old friends. You feel at ease around them, and all of the nerves are beginning to melt away. Walking to meet Benny where he stood at the front of the car, shifting the beer box from your hip and holding it out to him.

"It's just a small thank you for sacrificing your Saturday to fix my dinosaur." You let out a breathy laugh, a little embarrassed at the state your car was in even before the accident. His eyes go wide, and he just stares at you open-mouthed. You begin to worry that you have offended him.

"I, um, I know it's not much, and of course I'm going to pay you! I just wanted...um, I'm sorry if you don't drink alcohol; I didn't think...I could get you something else." You stammer out, anxiety building in your chest.

You look over at Frankie, searching his face for any sign of annoyance or anger, but there is none to be found. He had his hand covering his mouth, trying and failing to hide his laughter as he took in his friend's expression. He quickly gives up and lets out a loud belly laugh.

"No, no, don't worry, I drink alright; I'm just surprised, is all! This is very kind, Y/N; you didn't have to go to all this trouble!" Benny reassures you with a laugh of his own.

Finally regaining control of his face, he drapes an arm around your shoulder loosely, standing side by side with you, watching Frankie try to regain his own composure.

"I haven't seen you that shocked in a long time, Ben." He chuckles breathlessly, placing a large hand on his soft belly.

"Alright, alright, enough laughing at my expense. "I like her fish," he says with a wag of his thick eyebrows.

You go crimson once more and try to hide your face, dropping your eyes to the floor as you giggle. Benny drops his arm from your shoulder as he dodges the bound-up rag Frankie has thrown in his direction.

"Hey! Watch the goods!" Gesturing to the precious cargo that is now safely housed under his left arm "I'll go throw these in the cooler; thanks again, Y/N!" he says gratefully.

He shoots you a goofy smile, and it reminds you of what Frankie had said to you on the phone earlier that morning: "He's like the human version of a golden retriever," and before you have time to stop it, a loud giggle is bursting past your lips.

You threw your hand up to cover the sound, but Frankie was already watching you. He raises an eyebrow, imploring you to explain your outburst.

"Something funny, Hermosa?" He grins at you, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes.

"I was just remembering what you told me about Benny earlier." You chuckle, unconsciously closing the distance between you.

"Ah yes, I must remember to tell him about the tennis balls." He smirks down at you playfully, making you gasp incredulously.

"You wouldn't dare." You feign offence, and he takes it as a challenge.

"Oh, you bet I will." He winks at you, his dimple on full display as he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?" you whisper through another laugh as you fight the urge to lean into his touch.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?" you whisper through another laugh as you fight the urge to lean into his touch.

"Podra decirte lo mismo cariño," he husks, closing what little distance was left between you, your chests almost touching. The air around you turns to electricity; you can almost feel it sparking brightly as Frankie's gaze lingers on your face, his eyes dropping to your lips.

His hand comes up to stroke your cheek, and this time you don't stop yourself from leaning your face into his warm palm. His eyes are locked on yours, and your brain is screaming for him to kiss you. You have to make a conscious effort not to leap at him.

Just as he leans in towards you, Benny rounds the corner, and you both jump back instinctively, like two kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar. You glance at Frankie once more, and you're glad to see you aren't the only one looking flustered.

His face is beating red, and he is breathing heavier than before. It makes you grin to see him like this, all boyish charm and chagrin. Benny stops and looks first at you, then at Frankie, and back again, a knowing look spreading across his face.

"Sorry for interrupting the lovebirds, but we've got work to do." He chuckles, smirking at his friend and shooting a wink in your direction. As he walks past the two of you, Frankie nudges him with his shoulder, and the two start into a playful scrap, laughing loudly as you watch on, enjoying their easy banter.

The men return to their earlier assessments of your car, with Benny looking under the hood and Frankie lying on a creeper looking at the underside of the vehicle. You are perched on the side of the massive toolbox Benny had rolled out, filled with an impressive array of sockets and other tools you couldn't name.

You listened as they exchanged words like "injector seals" and "coolant leak," not really having a clue as to what they were talking about but happy to watch them at work. Frankie pushes the creeper out from under the car, the wheels rolling roughly against the cement flooring of the spacious garage.

"Okay, so it looks like it's pretty minor stuff needing repaired underneath. Benny, what's the damage like under the hood?" Frankie inquires as he rubs the dark, slippery grease that has made its way up his forarm on the faded old bandana he has tucked into the beltloop of his tan cargos.

Frankie joins Benny, and after listening and nodding intently to his friends' assessments, the two set to work on taking the parts that need mending or replacing out of the engine bay, speaking in "car and driver" lingo that goes over your head.

You can't help but steal glances at Frankie, his concentration focused on the task at hand, and you feel a flood of heat prickle over your skin at the way the muscles in his broad back flex and ripple under his shirt as he manuvers around the engine.

The sight of him covered in oily grime and the thin sheen of sweat covering any skin that was visible tightened the muscles low in your stomach. Suddenly, he looks up and catches you staring.

You freeze, caught in the act and feeling exposed under his intense gaze. For a moment, you feel embarrassed, but then he breaks into a grin and winks at you, making your heart skip.

"See something you like, Hermosa?" He teases, his voice low and playful. You feel your face flush even deeper as you try to stammer out a response, but no words come out.

Frankie chuckles, and the sound sends shivers tingling down your spine. "Relax, I'm just playing with you," he says, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Alright, I think we have everything we need to get this fixed up," Benny announced cheerfully.

"It should only take us a couple of hours," Frankie said confidently, and Benny nodded in agreement.

You stand in front of the pair, feeling a little useless. You don't really know anything about the inner workings of cars, only being able to do the basics like changing a flat tyre or filling up your washer fluid. You had watched as your dad worked on his car when you were younger but never really paid that much attention; usually you were talking his ear off about the latest school project or an album you had found that was new to you but well familiar to him.

"I don't think I'm going to be much help with this. But I can walk down to the store, and I could make sandwiches for lunch if you guys are hungry." You offer meekly, feeling bad for just standing there as they do the dirty work.

"That's really nice of you to offer, but you don't." Frankie begins but is cut off midsentence.

"No, she's right," Benny interjects, grinning at you. "We need our strength for the rest of the job; I might not make it through." He places the back of his hand against his forehead, pretending to faint.

"Really Ben?" Frankie sighs, throwing Benny an exasperated look. "What I was trying to say before I was rudely interrupted is, you don't need to make us lunch; I'm sure we can manage without." He rolls his eyes at his friend while shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Hermosa, this one has no manners." Frankie apologises on Benny's behalf while playfully punching him in the bicep.

"No, honestly, it is the least I can do after you both gave up your Saturday for this heap of shit. I'll be back soon." You laugh along with them, gesturing to your car, which is now in pieces, placed into organised piles along the driveway. You head out of the open garage and sneak a quick look over your shoulder to see that Frankie is watching as you leave. You throw him a shy wave as you exit the driveway.

You can feel the sun beating down on your skin as you make your way down the road, and you can't help but think about Frankie. Your mind is filled with images of him covered in grease, his muscles flexing as he works on your car. You can't believe how attracted you are to him, and you can't shake the feeling that he feels the same way about you. If his flirting is anything to go by.

As you walk, you notice that this is a quiet side of town you rarely visit, and you're quite taken by its lazy charm. The storefronts are all old-fashioned, with large wooden signs hanging above the doors. You pass a few cafes and a bakery, all smelling of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries.

You make your way to the small grocery store at the end of the street and begin to pick out ingredients for sandwiches. As you walk up and down the aisles, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment. The world seems to be moving a little slower here, and it's a nice change of pace from the usual bustle of downtown. You finish up in the store and head back to Benny's with a spring in your step.

You can't quite explain how you're feeling, but it's like Frankie brings you out of yourself without even trying; you don't feel the need to change yourself or try to impress him; after all, he had seen how much of a dorky clutz you could be yesterday, so all hope of a cool and collected facade was well and truly gone.

You make your way back down the drive, the ingredients for lunch in a brown paper bag that you have nestled in the crook of your arm. When you arrive, Benny is still under the hood of your car, and Frankie is leaning his weight on his forearm resting on the propped-up bonnet next to him. They both look up as you approach, and Frankie straightens to take the bag from you.

"Thanks, Hermosa," he says with a smile. "You really didn't have to do this."

"I know," you say with a grin, "but I wanted to."

You watched for a few minutes as they set to work on the car once again, taking in the way they moved around each other. There's an obvious sense of familiarity between them—a closeness that only comes from years of friendship. You can't help but feel a little envious of their bond.

Lunch came together quickly, and you were happy to note that Benny kept his kitchen almost exactly the same way you kept your own at home. The chopping boards rested against the wall beside the cooker, and the knives rested in the knife block beside them.

Bringing the sandwiches out on a wooden chopping board, you set them on the toolbox and head to the back yard to grab three ice-cold beers from the cooler. You crack two open and hand one to Benny and the other to Frankie.

As he takes it from you, his large hand covers yours and lingers there. When you meet his eyes, he is smiling boyishly at you, his eyes crinkling at the sides, making your heart swell.

"Thank you, it looks delicious," he hums cheekily, his dark caramel eyes never leaving yours.

"You're welcome, good-looking," you stammer out breathlessly.

"Damn Y/N, this is a fucking good sandwich," Benny mumbles around a mouthful of deli meat. His cheeks puff out like a chipmonk as he closes his eyes to fully enjoy it.

"Are you gonna eat that or get it pregnant?" You laugh at him, and the loudest laugh bursts from beside you.

Frankie has beer dribbling down his chin as he doubles over, hands on his knees, one still holding the neck of his beer bottle. You have to resist the urge to lean down and lick it from his chin.

The boys eat lunch quickly, horsing down the sandwitches quicker than you thought possible. You're only through the first half of yours, and they're finishing off the chips you had set out with them.

"That really was delicious; thanks again, Y/N." Frankie purrs from his spot beside you, wiping the whiskers of his moustache as he stands to finish the work on your car. Leaving you giggling.

As the afternoon wears on, you reclaim your seat on the toolbox just outside the garage entrance and lean back against the pannels of the house, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth as the sun beats down on your skin, warming you from the inside out, and the sound of tools clanking against metal and the radio playing 70s classic rock fills the air. It's a familiar and comforting sound, one that reminds you of lazy summer afternoons spent tinkering on cars with your dad.

You blink and open your eyes in confusion as the light dissapears, and you are met with Frankie standing in front of you, blocking the sun's glare, watching you with an intrigued expression.

"That's us all finished up, Hermosa, but would you come with me for a sec?" He asks nervously, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Oh, okay, yeah sure," You smile up at him, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice, not wanting the afternoon to end.

Frankie gestures down the drive, and you fall in step beside him. His hands are shoved into the front pockets of his cargo pants, and something in his demeanour has changed; he is less confident, and in all honesty, you think he might be a little anxious.

You take a deep breath and mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable conversation that is about to take place. You were used to this, and it's why you don't date anymore. The "I'm not looking for anything serious",  "I'm not ready for a relationship," or, god forbid, the "It's not you, it's me" excuses drained you. You thought you and Frankie had a real connection, and today only solidified that thought, but you must have read it wrong. Deciding that it would save you both the awkwardness of the conversation, you stopped at the driver's door of his car.

"Look, Frankie I think I know what you're going to say, and honestly, it's fine. I had fun hanging out today, and I understand if you don't want to see me again; it's not as if this was a date." You tried to make light of it, but it came out sounding wrong, even sad.

"Oh god, no, no, that's not… I didn't mean." He takes a breath as he tries to search your eyes, only to find them glued to the floor. He places his index finger and thumb under your chin, forcing you to look at him before wetting his lips and continuing

"I'm sorry, Cariño, I didn't think how this would look; I just wanted a bit of privacy, that's all." "Benny's a nosey shit," he laughs low in his chest, his thumb pointing over his shoulder in his friend's direction.

"So you weren't about to tell me "This was fun and all, but"?" You question him in surprise.

"God, no, you think I would throw a chance like this away? Now it's my turn to be offended?" He chokes out, his hand resting over his heart in feigned offence.

"Well, I apologise; I'm not used to dealing with such a gentleman." You giggle, unable to contain the butterflies threatening to brim over.

"I accept your apology, mi señora, and as a token of my own apology, I got you these." He grins down at you. Opening the door of the truck, he reaches over to the passenger seat and retrieves a bouquet of flowers.

Frankie hands them to you, looking a little bashful, as you bring the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent deeply and committing it to your memory. They were stunning: bright yellow sunflowers framed with vibrant blue cornflowers with a foilage you had never seen before intricately woven through.

These were not the sad convenience store flowers you had seen on your journey this morning; these were hand-cut and arranged. He had gone to the trouble of going to an actual florist to get flowers for you. The thoughtfulness of the gesture made you want to cry; you can't remember the last time someone thought this much of you to go out of their way to do something so sweet.

"They are so beautiful, Frankie; no one has ever bought me flowers before, except my dad." This is the sweetest thing; thank you so, so much," you admit, trying your best to control the emotion in your voice.

"I'm glad you like them. I didn't know what flowers you liked, so I picked the sunflowers because they made me think of you." He admitted, shrugging his large shoulders sheepishly, "I also wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me?" He asks, his eyes intently watching you.

"I would like that very much." You beamed up at him, your nose falling back to the flowers once more. They smelled sweet and earthy at the same time, and you found yourself wishing you could bottle them up forever.

"What kind of food do you like?" Frankie asked, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

"I like everything, to be honest, but I really love Italian food!" you answer him with matched enthusiasm.

"Oh, that's perfect; there's a new Italian place down town; I think it's called the Chubby Cherub or something? We could try it if you'd like." Frankie inquired eagerly.

"I have actually been meaning to try that place; I've heard good things!" You gushed back.

"Perfect; it's a date," he murmurs with a lopsided smirk.

The two of you make your way back to the garage, where Benny is placing the remaining tools back in their original places. He beams as he watches you and Frankie amble down the long driveway, lost in conversation. It's been too long since he has seen Frankie so confident and comfortable around anyone but the guys.

"That's her all fixed up, Y/N; I would say good as new, but I honestly don't think that's possible at this point." Benny laughs as you approach him.

"Honestly Benny I can't thank you enough. You too, Frankie. I don't know what I would have done if it wasn't for you two!" You exclaimed before continuing, "How much do I owe you?"

You had pulled out of your little 'emergency' fund to pay for the repairs, but not sure how much you would need, you brought $300 with you, hoping that it would cover the cost of the labour and parts.

"Nah, you don't owe me anything; it's on the house," Benny states nonchalantly, dismissing your question with a wave of his hand.

You stare at him blankly; there is no way that you are leaving without paying him for the work. He and Frankie have spent all day on your car; it is late afternoon at this stage.

"No, no way, Benny, I'm paying you for this; I don't care what you say! You have spent all day working on it, and I can't let you—" You stammer, words coming out in an anxious rush, but he cuts you off before you can ramble further.

"Listen, I have spent a beautiful sunny Saturday doing what I enjoy, with good company and good tunes, and you even brought beer and made lunch, so we're even! I'm not taking your money!" He insists in a serious tone, leaving no room for argument.

You sigh heavily and turn to Frankie for help. "Can you please convince him to take my money? " You beg, sighing loudly in exasperation.

"I have to say, I agree with Ben here, Hermosa." He laughs, his hands coming up to rest on his narrow hips. "I'm afraid you're outnumbered on this one. Plus, they were really great sandwiches.

You can't help the laugh that escapes yyou,and you let out a quite grown laugh whilst rubbing your forehead, trying to comprehend their genorosity. Why were they being so nice? They barely knew you, and you know that work like this would cost you a couple hundred if you took it to a body shop.

Eventually you admit defeat as Benny walks over and drapes his arm loosely over your shoulder, just as he had earlier, with a smug grin and a "You're not going to win this battle, you know that right?"

You suggest that if the three of you hang out again, the beers are on you to even out the playing field, and he reluctantly agrees, as Frankie watches on, enjoying how easily you have gelled with his best friend.

The three of you sat in the backyard, enjoying a cold beer, as the sun started to dip below the horizon. It was much more pleasant sitting here on the little deck, covered by shade from a tall dogwood tree whose branches loomed over the fence and swayed slightly with the gentle breeze. The air is warm, and the soft glow of string lights above adds to the relaxed atmosphere. You lean back in your chair and take a sip of your beer, feeling content.

"So, Y/N," Benny says, breaking the comfortable silence, "tell us a little bit about yourself." "Are you from Florida?"

"No, I'm from Columbus, Ohio, originally, but I moved here for work, and I didn't have much of a reason to go back home, so I just decided to stay." You tell them honestly.

Frankie was listening intently, his elbows resting on his knees as he was unconsciously leaning towards you. He was absentmindedly peeling the label of the beer bottle, lost in thought.

Benny nods, taking a swig of his beer. "What about your family? Are you close with them?"

You hesitate for a moment before answering, "That's kind of why I didn't have a reason to go home; I actually don't have much family left. My parents passed away a few years ago, and I don't have any siblings. But I have a few close friends who feel like family to me."

There's a moment of quiet before Frankie speaks up. "That must have been really hard; I'm sorry you had to go through that." His voice was low and thick with sincerity.

Benny continued his questioning: "What did you do for work? What do you like to do in your free time? Until Frankie interupted him.

"Okay, I think that's enough questions for one night, Ben." He laughs, flicking the brim of his friend's cap. "I think we should probably get going if we want to get a table Y or N," he urges.

"Yeah, you're probably right. It was great to meet you, Benny. Thank you so much again for fixing my little rust bucket. I promise not to run into any more trucks." You chuckle and shoot a wink in Frankie's direction, making him grin.

"The pleasure was all mine, sunshine!" He beams at you, thowing his arms around you in a bear hug. He really is just a big puppy dog; his smile was infectious, and as you hugged him back, you felt a bit nostalgic for the brotherly bond you never had but hoped that you could have it with Benny.

After the boys say their goodbyes, Frankie follows you back to your house in the truck, so you can leave your car behind. You climb out of the car and walk to the end of your short driveway, where he is waiting. He rolls his window down as you come to a stop at his driver's side door.

"I'm just going to quickly freshen up a bit; you're more than welcome to come in while you wait." You smile at him sweetly.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he murmurs as he turns the ignition off and unbuckles his seatbelt. You step back as he steps out of the truck and comes to stand beside you.

You nervously run your hand through your hair as the realisation hits that Frankie is going to be in your house. Pushing that thought to the back of your mind, you glance up to find him watching you intently. You both share a nervous giggle and head towards the front door.

You push the key into the lock with shaking fingers, wondering why you are suddenly so nervous. You have spent the entire day with this man, but now that you no longer have Benny as a buffer, the electricity returns in full force.

It sends sparks across your skin at his close proximity; you can feel the heat rolling down his chest as he stands just behind you. You open the door and flick on the lamp on the side table, gesturing for him to come inside.

You walk further down the hall, flipping lights on as you go, and you notice that Frankie is not following you; instead, he is lingering in the hallway by the front door. His hand coming up to take home at the back of his neck—you noticed throughout the day that it's something he does when he's nervous, and it's endearing.

"You don't have to wait in the hallway, you know; make yourself at home; I'll be right back." You encourage him as you head through the kitchen and down the hall to your bedroom.

You head into your bathroom and stand in front of the sink, taking in your reflection for the first time since you left the house this morning. You were thankful that your makeup seemed to be holding up. You quickly top up your powder, brush your teeth, and reapply your lip balm before heading back into your bedroom.

You decide to ditch the sneakers and opt for a cute pair of sky blue high-heeled sandals. They take your outfit up a level, and you figure they are more appropriate for the restaurant you are heading to.

Tearing a brush through your hair and giving yourself a last once-over in the full-length mirror, you head back down the hallway in search of Frankie. You find him perched on one of the benches at your dining room table, in the corner of the kitchen, running his large hand back and forth along the smooth oak table top.

As your eyes land on him, you watch as his gaze starts at your feet, slowly raking up your body until he meets your eyes. His expression is dark and hungry. You both stare at each other in silence, and the electricity is back crackling like a live wire in the space between your bodies, and you know Frankie feels it by the way his grip on the table tightens, knuckles turning bone white as he fights to keep himself in place.

He stands from his seat at the table, slowly closing the distance between you. He reaches up and strokes from your temple to your jaw, allowing his touch to linger there.

"I love that dress baby, and those are some very pretty shoes." He growls, and his voice and gaze set a fire low in your belly; the flames lick wildly up your limbs, making you lightheaded. Were you even breathing right now?

Right now, you couldn't care less about the restaurant, about the fact you had just met this man, or about the preconception that sex on the first date—or in this case, before the first date—was frowned upon. Your mind was racing; all you wanted, no, needed, was for Frankie to rip your dress off, bend you over that table, and make you his.

"Are you ready, Hermosa?" He husks quitely, pulling you from your lewd thoughts.

"What?" You all but gasp in response, embarrassed by your breathlessness. You hadn't even heard what he had said; you need to get a grip on yourself.

"I asked if you were ready to go." He chuckles quietly; he's standing so close that you can feel it vibrating through his chest.

"Um yes, yes, I'm ready to go. Sorry." You say it through a breathy laugh of your own.

You and Frankie hop into his truck, headed to the cosy Italian restaurant down town. As he starts the car, you notice the music playing in the background and lean forward to turn the dial up.

His phone is connected to the Bluetooth, and from the speakers croons the voice of Don Henley. The song that is playing in contrast to your close encounter in your kitchen makes you blush a deep crimson.

"One of these nights,

One of these crazy old nights,

We're gonna find out, pretty mama,

What turns on your lights,"

As you drive through the quiet streets, you catch Frankie stealing glances at you every now and then, his dark eyes darting away whenever you meet his gaze. You can feel the tension building between you two, and he can feel it too.

"I'm really glad you said yes to dinner," he says, his voice low and husky, a small smile playing on his lips.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at the sound of his voice: "I'm really glad you asked me to join you." You purred back at him, matching his smile.

As you approach a red light, Frankie reaches over to your lap and takes your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. You feel a jolt of electricity run through your body at his touch, and you can't help but lean in a little closer.

"I've been wanting to do that all day," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.