Series Summary: Your roommate, Maria, introduces you to her boyfriend's brother. You hit it off immediately, but when you find out the true nature of his profession, you both decide to remain just friends. But once the four of you eventually move in together, things get... complicated.
-or-
A lovers to friends to lovers fic
Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, smut (18+ MDNI), slow burn, cigarette use, some descriptions of porn (obviously), angst, mutual pining, jealousy, possessive behavior, infidelity (reader cheating on OC), alcohol use
Status: complete
A/N: this idea hit me when I was reading @shellshocklove's I Wanna Be Your Lover. If you haven't had the pleasure, I recommend you reading it. It is a great story and very well written.
Chapters:
1. you're joking, right?
2. sparks on the Fourth of July
3. fun in the sun
4. swipe right
5. roll the dice
6. pitching a tent
7. jack and jill
8. forever
9. hold onto each other
10. just us two
One-shots/Requests:
Roll Call 2: reader and Joel watch some of his porn together
Red Lace & Holiday Cheer: While visiting him at work, you decide to give Joel his Christmas present early.
Asks/BTS/Inspo/Extras:
Joel's Likes/Dislikes
Floor Plan
Moodboard by @almostfoxglove ❤️
Love Languages
lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics
Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️
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Series Summary: You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.
Series Warnings: no outbreak AU, language, angst, slow burn, smut (18+ MDNI), domestic violence (mostly just talked about or implied, nothing too descriptive, i will put a big warning on those chapters), implied SA (nothing descriptive), jealousy/possessiveness, alcohol use, drug use (not by Joel or reader), technical infidelity - more warnings will be stated for each chapter but these are the biggies
Chapter Summary: After you settle into your tiny, dingy apartment safely in the middle of nowhere, you go on the hunt for a job to help make ends meet. There, you meet someone who forces back memories you would rather forget.
Anybody else who walked into the small, one bedroom apartment you were currently standing in would most likely be revolted. The kitchen faucet dripped incessantly, the toilet was stained, the carpet looked like it hadn't been cleaned in a decade, and the entire place smelled like garlic from the pizza place downstairs. But when you looked at it, you smiled. You could work with this. Rummaging around the dollar store bags you left on the kitchen counter, you pulled out all of the cleaning supplies you picked up and got to work.
The landlord - who also happened to be the owner of the pizza place - seemed surprised you wanted to rent it. He said the place had been vacant for close to a year, and considering the state, he knocked off quite a bit on the price. But you could see the potential beyond the grime, and you never shied away from a little hard work, so you jumped at the opportunity. It took you almost the whole day, but you managed to get the place smelling halfway decent. The bathroom and kitchen both looked sparkling new - well, relatively. The only thing you couldn't figure out was the faucet, but that concerned you the least since your landlord said that utilities were included.
Aside from the low rent, the next best thing about the place was it came partially furnished. It had a queen bed, a beat up sofa, and a rickety dining room table, but that was all you needed. At this point, you were just happy to not be staying in another dirty motel. You were ready to find a home, plant down some roots, and start fresh. And Fredericksburg, Texas was just as good a town as any.
You were surprised by how cute the town was when you first drove down Main Street. It was quiet and quaint, and very much had a small town atmosphere. When you were at the dollar store, you had overheard the cashier making conversation with every single customer as if she had known them all her life. By the time it was your turn to cash out, she examined you quizzically, most likely trying to place you, but fortunately she let it go and didn't pry. You weren't in the mood to make up more lies. You were exhausted from being on the road so much the past few weeks, and you just wanted to collapse into bed in a somewhat clean room.
And that is exactly what you did, after you stocked the small fridge with some essentials from the grocery store at the corner of the street so you would at least have coffee and something to eat in the morning.
As you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling fan swirling above, you silently thanked your grandmother all those years ago who told you since you were old enough to understand when you meet a man, keep your own bank account. At the time, you laughed, wondering why on earth anyone would purposely keep secrets from their partner. That it seemed like such a betrayal to even suggest it. But luckily for you, when you met Patrick, you already had your own bank account. You let it lie dormant for a while, almost forgetting you had it. Eventually, you told yourself you should close the account. But that required going down to the branch in person, and you never seemed to find the time to do it. Or maybe some part of you always knew there was something ugly about him, and maybe your grandmother's words had more of an effect on you than you realized.
Whatever it was, it's the reason you were able to find a shitty little apartment in the middle of nowhere without anybody being able to track you down. And for the first time in a long time, you closed your eyes and felt safe.
The next morning, after you drank your surprisingly palatable off brand coffee and ate a borderline stale blueberry muffin, you headed down the steps of your apartment to the sidewalk lining Main Street. You took a deep breath and looked around, a small smile playing on your lips. The town was just waking up, businesses just opening their doors, cars rolling lazily down the street. You had your own car - it was an old Honda Civic that you weren't entirely sure had many years left - but you wouldn't need it today. Picking an apartment on the main drag in town afforded you the option to walk almost anywhere. So you chose a direction and started walking, glancing in the windows of the shops, looking for any help wanted signs.
You tried a small clothing boutique and a coffee shop before entering the pharmacy. There wasn't a help wanted sign out front, but you needed to pick up a few things, anyway. Things the dollar store didn't have, or things you didn't exactly trust to buy there.
You grabbed a basket by the door and smiled at the teenager behind the counter who greeted you before heading down the first aisle. You snagged some generic pain reliever and a box of tampons before you made your way to the hair products. Flipping open the caps, you took a hesitant sniff and put them back before deciding on a cheaper bottle that smelled like strawberries and didn't make you gag. Dropping the bottles in your basket, you wandered past the makeup, looking at it longingly but knowing you wouldn't waste the money on it. Instead, you stopped in front of an end-cap where a display of chapstick caught your eye.
"Sarah?" you heard a deep voice call from behind. You ignored it and kept looking at the display, landing on a vanilla scent as the man walked past. You didn't see his face, but you smelled his cologne, and you instantly recoiled. Your heart began to slam in your chest and your throat felt tight. You squeezed your eyes shut as you focused on taking deep breaths. It's not him, it's not him, it's not him.
"Excuse me, can I grab one of those?" a girl's voice said softly behind you. Taking a shaky step back, you nodded and forced a weak smile.
"Sorry, of course," you told her. She had beautiful, dark brown eyes and thick hair with tight curls framing her face. She looked like she was in her early teens, and based on the backpack over her shoulders, you were probably right.
"Sarah?" you heard the voice call again, and you saw her eyes flick up. You realized the man with the cologne was probably related to her, and you weren't sure you would be able to handle smelling it again, so you quickly took off down the next aisle to hide, waiting until their voices carried them to the cash registers and out the front door before taking a few steadying breaths and forcing yourself to move.
Minor setback aside, you had a pretty good morning. You found you had some luck at the diner a few blocks over. The owner took a liking to you right away and interviewed you on the spot.
"You came at the perfect time, darlin'," he said, taking a seat across from you. "Just missed the breakfast rush, so I got the time to talk right now. Name's Tommy," he said, extending his hand. You smiled and shook it, introducing yourself, then quickly brought your hand back to your lap to nervously fidget with the hem of your shirt.
"You ever work in a restaurant before?"
"Uh, yeah, it's been a few years. But I think it's like riding a bike. I have really good time management skills, I have experience handling cash, I'm friendly, I'm great at anticipating customer's needs-"
Tommy laughed and patted his hand on the table.
"Sounds like you got more skills than half the waitstaff I already got. Some of the older ladies ain't exactly friendly, but they've been here so long, no one seems to mind," he explained quietly with a wink. You chuckled and glanced down at your hands.
"You from around here? I don't think I recognize you," he asked, his eyebrows pinching together. You shook your head.
"Nope, just moved here." You briefly wondered if you should lie - you were so used to lying at this point, it came as second nature - but you couldn't see what it would hurt to tell him the truth. "I'm from Pennsylvania. Just got in last night, actually."
"Long way from home, what brought you here?" he asked, leaning back to study you. You just shrugged.
"Looking for a fresh start," you said honestly. If you were really looking to start over, the lying needed to stop, too.
Tommy nodded and glanced behind you before meeting your gaze again.
"Well, you're hired. If you want the job, that is," he said. You grinned, not expecting that.
"Really?"
"Yeah, really. When can you start?"
"Uh, tomorrow?" you offered, your mind racing. You weren't sure if you would need new clothes so you wanted to give yourself the rest of the day, at least, to prepare.
"Works for me. Maria," Tommy called over your shoulder. You turned around and saw a beautiful woman with long, dark braids walking over. He introduced her as his wife, who also happened to be the hostess. You stood to shake her hand, exchanging warm smiles as Tommy told her your name.
"Why don't you come by tomorrow 'round 9 and Maria can show you the ropes? I work the kitchen, she's got the floor," he explained, and you nodded along excitedly.
"I'll be here," you confirmed, the grin still plastered on your face. Tommy left to head back to the kitchen as Maria told you what you needed to bring the next day. You took out your new phone and began jotting down everything she mentioned.
On the way back home, you stopped to pick up a pair of nonslip sneakers from a shoe store. Maria had given you a couple plain black skirts and black t-shirts with the diner's logo that all of the waitresses wore as their uniform before you left. To celebrate, you got a pizza from the pizza place below your apartment and watched old reruns on the ancient TV in your living room.
Things were finally starting to come together.
"Refills are free. Cream and sugar is down here, along with any extra condiments. Coffee should be made every hour but you'll go through the pot long before that," Maria said to you, pointing as she walked behind the counter. "Here's some extra notepads and pens. The computer system is kind of old but pretty easy to use. Tommy'll ring the bell when food is up, we try to move it as quick as possible before it gets cold, even if it's not your table," she said, turning around to face you. "It might take some time to learn the table numbers but we have a little cheat sheet next to all the registers. And if you're ever not sure, don't hesitate to ask."
"I think I got it," you said confidently, tapping your pen against your notepad.
"You can shadow with Betty today, she's been here for decades, long before Tommy and me ever bought the place. She knows her shit forwards and backwards," Maria said, leading you back to the kitchen where you saw an older, round woman struggling with a cardboard box.
"Here, let me help," you told her, rushing over to take the box from her.
"Thanks, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Can you take it up front for me?"
"Of course," you said, following her through the kitchen.
Maria introduced you to Betty as you helped her stock the ketchup bottles underneath the front counter. You heard Tommy's voice call for Maria through the kitchen window and she excused herself, leaving the two of you to tend to the only two customers in the place.
The morning went by quickly. Betty was nicer than you expected. In your experience, when a newcomer joins a seasoned team, it sometimes takes time for the veterans to warm up, but she seemed very eager to show you the ropes, and she had the patience of a saint. All of the customers seemed to know her name and history, some occasionally asking about her husband or her children. As it inched closer to noon, the diner started getting busier again, so you began to branch out a bit on your own, taking a few simple orders and delivering food or refills whenever you could. Betty was deep in conversation with a regular when she waved you over.
"D'you mind takin' care of him?" she asked, nodding over to the man who just sat down. "That's Joel, Tommy's brother. Don't charge him for nothin', he comes in all the time."
You nodded and pulled your pen and notepad out of your apron as you headed over to greet him. When you finally lifted your gaze, you noticed he was wearing a worn, brown suit with a striped tie and as you got closer, you saw the little gold star pinned to his belt and the bulge of a handgun under his blazer.
Your breath got caught in your throat when you made the realization he's a cop.
It's fine, it's fine, it's fine you kept repeating to yourself, forcing your feet to move. You thought you were okay by the time you stood in front of him, but then his cologne invaded your senses, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck.
Fortunately, his head was bent down looking at the menu and didn't see your reaction, which afforded you a few precious seconds to collect yourself. It's not him.
"Hey Betty, I'll have-" he glanced up and realized you were not, in fact, Betty. His warm brown eyes trailed over your face for a moment too long, making you shift your weight nervously.
"Sorry, didn't uh - have we met?" he asked, his eyes unblinking as he continued to stare, and you felt the heat creeping up your neck. It's fine, you're fine.
"No," you finally managed to squeak out, shaking your head and introducing yourself right as his eyes drifted to your name tag. "What can I get for you?"
You needed to walk away. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand there smelling that fucking cologne and staring at that badge. But for some reason, he didn't answer you. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your own issues, you would have recognized the look in his eye. The look that clearly expressed interest beyond you taking his food order. And maybe, if you weren't so messed up, you would have realized he was insanely handsome. Maybe, if you could have seen past the cologne and the gold star on his waist, you would have noticed how plush his lips looked, or how big and strong his hands were. You had no idea how you could possibly miss how broad his shoulders were or how thick and soft the messy, dark curls were on top of his head.
But you did miss all of those things the first time you saw him, because he just kept staring and the scent was making your stomach turn and the fluorescent light was shining too brightly off that damn star, so you repeated yourself with a little more edge to your voice than you usually had.
He finally snapped out of it and glanced down at the menu, quickly telling you his order. You wrote it down and held your breath, only letting it go once you were around the corner and far enough away. He comes in all the time, Betty's words replayed in your mind. You were either going to need to find a way to deal with your issues, or find a new job.
"Hiya, Joel. New girl take care of you?" Betty asked as she ambled over to refill his coffee. His eyes flicked around the diner, following your form as you smiled and chatted warmly with other customers.
"Yeah, when did she start?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal, but Betty saw right through it.
"Today," she told him with a smirk. "Real smart. Pretty, too, don'tcha think?"
"Uh," Joel stammered before clearing his throat. "Yeah, suppose so."
"I think she's single," Betty told him, leaning up against the counter.
"When are you gonna quit tryin' to set me up with every woman in this town?" Joel asked her with a grin.
"Whenever you decide to finally settle down," she shot right back. "You need a woman in your life, Joel."
"Do you do this to all your customers, Betty? Grill 'em 'bout their love lives and tell 'em what they need, like you know best?"
"I do know best, Joel," she said with a wink. "And you know it."
"Yeah, well. I got my hands full with Sarah and work down at the station. Don't got time for all that," he said, taking a sip of his black coffee.
"Sarah's 'bout to be goin' off to college before you know it, and there ain't nearly enough crime in this town to keep you that busy," she said with a shake of her head.
Joel mumbled something under his breath before taking another sip of coffee and glancing around the dining room.
"What was that?" Betty asked, leaning in and cupping her ear. Joel sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Don't think she likes me much, anyway," he said, clearer now.
"Oh, well I can find out for you, sugar. All you gotta do is ask." Betty gave Joel the biggest shit eating grin she could muster. He took a deep breath before asking what he knew would be a huge mistake, but he suddenly needed to know the answer.
"Can you..." he trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek and staring down at the closed menu.
"Can I what?"
Joel groaned and dragged his eyes back up to Betty.
"Can you find out if she'd be interested?" he finally spit out, and Betty clapped her hands.
"Of course I will, Joel! I would absolutely love to," she gushed, and he rolled his eyes again. Just then, he saw you come around the corner and go behind the counter, completely ignoring the two of you before reaching up to the kitchen window and grabbing his lunch. You turned around and gave him what looked to be a forced smile and carefully set the plate down in front of him with a bottle of ketchup. Betty took a step back and watched with a glimmer in her eye as Joel's neck began to flush.
"Can I get you anything else?" you asked. Your voice sounded sweet and you were smiling, but your smile didn't reach your eyes. Maybe he was reading too much into it.
"Nope, all set, thank you," he said, giving you a warm smile in return, but before he even had a chance to say anything else, to try to make a connection and learn more about you, you scurried away. He glanced over at Betty and raised his eyebrows.
"See?"
She waved him off and picked up a rag to wipe down the counter.
"She's just nervous, is all."
The embarrassment still sat with you by the time you arrived back to your apartment that evening. When Betty caught you off guard and asked what you thought of Joel, you couldn't turn down the idea fast enough. You must have looked and sounded crazy based on her reaction. Your only saving grace was Joel had already left the diner and didn't hear you vehemently tell her you wanted nothing to do with him. It wasn't his fault, you weren't interested in hurting his feelings, but you were far too vulnerable still. The wounds were too fresh and the memories were too strong.
Besides, even if you weren't in the unfortunate position you were in, you wouldn't feel right dragging even more people down with you. You dug this grave, so you had to dig yourself out. And you were on the right track, too. As far as you knew, nobody knew where you were. You were incredibly careful, you kept a low profile, and you didn't contact a single person back home. You had no idea who you could even trust anymore, so the safest bet was to just cut all ties and start over.
You weren't going to risk everything by getting involved with some guy. Okay, he was more like a man. But still. Your situation was far too complicated to get involved with anybody. Technically, you shouldn't get involved with anybody.
No, it was a very bad idea.
So why couldn't you stop thinking about him?
"Stop it," you muttered out loud to yourself as you paced around your little apartment. With a huff, you picked up the small potted plant you bought on clearance and gave it a little bit of water from the dripping kitchen sink before putting it back on the windowsill.
Remember what he smelled like? Remember he's a cop?
That did the trick. Those two simple reminders erased all prior thoughts about the handsome sheriff who visited the diner earlier that day.
And as you tucked yourself into bed that night, you convinced yourself the only reason who were momentarily intrigued by the man's interest was flattery. You were simply flattered someone looked at you in that way. It's been a long time since anybody had, and it just made you feel good.
Yep, that's all it was.
When Joel sat down at the counter the next day and was greeted by Betty instead of you, he was surprised to find he was disappointed. He had just met you, he knew nothing about you, he barely even spoke to you. Why should he care if you were waiting on him today or not?
"She ain't here," Betty said when she caught Joel glancing around the dining room. He tried not to look deflated.
"Who?"
Betty laughed heartily at that and had to pause to catch her breath so she wouldn't spill his coffee.
"Listen, Joel," she said, setting the coffee pot down and leaning on the counter. "Remember what I said yesterday? 'Bout how I always know what's best?"
"Yeah," he said slowly, eyeing her up and bracing for what was coming next.
"Well, turns out I might have been wrong. There's a first time for everythin', right?" she said, forcing a laugh that he didn't reciprocate.
"What'dya mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"I don't think she's interested in datin' anyone right now," was all she said, and he felt the disappointment instantly flood his veins. He didn't even realize how much he had been hoping his instinct was wrong, that maybe he misread you, but of course he was right. He was a cop, after all. He was good at reading people, it's what he was trained to do.
"That's it?"
"I don't know, Joel. Maybe she's not into men, I didn't ask any more questions," she said. "Besides, I was thinkin'. Margaret's daughter is back in town. You remember Nikki?"
Joel shrugged and turned back to his coffee. He remembered Nikki. He wasn't interested in Nikki. She was a nice girl, but he didn't feel anything when he looked at her. Not like the way he felt when he looked at you.
"Now I know for a fact that Nikki's had a crush on you since you were in high school. I could talk to Margaret at church this weekend..."
"No thanks," Joel said immediately, then glanced at his watch before standing up and tossing a tip down on the table. "Gotta get back to work, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
He turned on his heel and left before Betty had a chance to reply.
What a stupid idea. What did he expect would actually happen? That you would fall in love with him after he spoke barely three sentences to you? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"Hey, Joel," he heard the owner of the hardware shop call out to him in greeting as he walked by.
"Hey, Lee. How's it goin'?" Joel stopped outside the open door to the shop, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Lee sweep the floor.
"Can't complain. 'Cept, you get any leads on those vandals? Someone's been drawin' obscene things on the street signs over on Willow." Lee lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder before adding "someone even drew a phallic image on a deer crossin' sign."
Joel had to stifle a chuckle because he knew the old man was completely serious.
"I'm on it, Lee. Promise, I'll get to the bottom of it," he said with a nod.
A clatter deep within the store pulled both of their attention toward the noise.
"You alright back there, miss?" Lee called, peering down the aisle. Joel's breath caught in his throat when he heard your voice.
"Yeah, sorry! Just dropped something," you replied, emerging from the aisle looking a little flustered and holding an array of tools in your hands. You stiffened before you even laid eyes on him, like you could sense him before even seeing he was there. Joel couldn't help but take it a little personally. Why were you so sweet and friendly to Lee and other customers at the diner, but so cold to him?
You glanced his way nervously and he tried to give you a reassuring smile, maybe even a quick hello, but you immediately turned to address Lee, asking him questions on how to fix a kitchen faucet. Joel watched as Lee picked out the right tool for you and explained how to fix it, but it was clear as day you were having a hard time following. Lee must have noticed as well.
"You ever fix anythin' 'round a house, sweetheart?" Lee asked, and a little pink dusted your cheeks, making Joel's heart flutter in his chest.
"Is it that obvious?" you asked him with a sweet smile. Why wouldn't you look at him like that?
Lee laughed good-naturedly before turning to Joel.
"Joel, would you mind helpin' her out? Her place's on the way back to the station."
Your smile fell and you instantly shook your head, eyes widening as you clutched the tool in your hand.
"N-no, that's okay, I can manage," you said, first to Lee, then braved a glance in his direction before dropping your eyes to the floor.
A big part of Joel told himself to just give up, just let you be and ignore whatever it was that made you dislike him so much. But he just couldn't do it.
"Not a problem, it should just take a second," Joel finally said, tilting his head to look at you. "Where d'you live?"
He could tell you were incredibly uncomfortable now, and he wondered if he should stop pushing it. It looked like you could hardly breathe as you stared at the floor and considered your options.
"Just a few blocks that way," you said meekly, pointing north up Main Street. Joel pushed himself off the doorframe and stood aside so you could squeeze through without getting too close to him, and for that you seemed grateful. He nodded to Lee before following you down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to think of something to say.
"You likin' it here so far?"
"Uh huh," you replied, your gaze trained straight ahead. The pair of you walked in an awkward silence for another minute before he tried again.
"You got a place right on Main?"
"Above the pizza parlor," you said, and before he could follow up with another question, you suddenly stopped walking. He turned around when he realized and gave you a confused look.
"I really appreciate the offer, but I think I can figure out the sink for myself," you told him, forcing yourself to look into his eyes this time when you spoke.
"It's no trouble. It's what we all do 'round here, we help each other out," he replied. You fidgeted with the strap of your purse and averted your gaze. He waited for you to weigh your options, not wanting to pressure you but also not ready to give up, either. Finally, you spoke.
"You said it'll be quick?"
He grinned and nodded.
"Less than ten minutes."
You sighed and forced yourself to continue walking.
"Okay, if you're sure you don't mind..."
"I'm sure."
You walked in silence the rest of the way to your apartment. Joel seemed nice enough, and you could probably even get over the fact he was a cop, but you just couldn't get past the fucking cologne. It permeated every molecule of air whenever he was near, and you couldn't stop the horrible memories that came flooding back. You knew you would end up regretting allowing him into your apartment because you would end up spending the rest of the day trying to rid your little sanctuary of that scent. But you were weak. You never were very good at saying no. And this time was no exception.
You unlocked the front door and Joel held it open while you led him up the creaky stairs, then unlocked the second door at the top that led directly into your small apartment. He closed the door behind him and glanced around, taking in your space for the first time.
"Cozy," he finally said, and you let out a soft chuckle.
"You could say that," you replied. The room wasn't very big, but he noticed the moment you both entered, you put as much space between the two of you as you could. Your eyes were flicking around the room anxiously, your back against the only window and your fingers clutching the tool to your chest, toying with it nervously. He took a couple steps towards you and your fidgeting stopped. You dragged your gaze up to his as he studied your curious behavior. If it wasn't obvious before, it was crystal clear now: he made you incredibly uncomfortable.
Rather than make things worse, he stopped halfway across the room and just held out his hand. You stared at it, unmoving and barely breathing before he cleared his throat.
"Wrench?"
"Oh," you said softly, letting out a shaky breath before taking a step forward and handing him the tool you had just bought. He took it and gave you one more look before turning back towards the small kitchen. He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of a chair, and your throat went dry when you clocked the gun on his waist.
You watched him warily as he flicked on the overhead light and fiddled with the lever of the sink before opening the cabinets underneath and peering inside at the plumbing. You hardly moved a muscle as you watched him. You wished you could light the scented candle on your table to help minimize the cologne, but you were too nervous he would find that suggestive. The silence became deafening as he worked, and you felt compelled to say something.
"Can I get you some water?"
He stopped what he was doing and gave you a small smirk.
"As long as it ain't from the tap," he said, tilting his head towards the faucet he currently had taken apart. You smiled and walked quickly over to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water. He noticed your fingers shaking slightly when you handed him the water, and he frowned.
"You alright?"
"Me?" you squeaked, as if there were anyone else in the room he could be addressing. He nodded slowly and unscrewed the cap, still staring at you.
"I'm fine," you assured him, but still took a few paces back to stand next to your window again. Far away from him. He looked you up and down as he took a sip of his water before setting the bottle down on the counter.
"I can tell you got some issue with me," he began, and you stilled, watching him carefully from across the room, clutching the water bottle tightly against your chest. You shook your head quickly, but he held out a hand to stop you.
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable at the diner," he said.
"W-what do you mean?" you stammered.
"Betty," he added, raising his eyebrows. "She's got a tendency to stick her nose where it don't belong, and I know she said somethin' to you 'bout me. I just wanted to apologize if that put you in tough spot."
"Oh, that's alright," you told him, quickly waving him off. He chewed the corner of his mouth as he studied your surprisingly relaxed response. So Betty's prying wasn't the problem.
"You gotta give me somethin' here," he said after a moment, and you dropped your gaze to your feet. "What did I do?"
"You didn't do anything," you said softly, your eyes still pinned to the floor.
"Then why can't you stand lookin' at me for more than five seconds?" he asked, desperate now to know the answer.
"Does it matter?" you whispered.
"I wish it didn't," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. You finally looked up at him now, taking in his hurt expression, and you felt your resolve crumbling. What happened to you wasn't this man's fault.
"What does that mean?" you asked him, and it was his turn to look away.
"Nothin'," he finally mumbled, his heart slamming against his chest.
"It's your cologne," you blurted out, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting that.
"My... cologne?"
"It's nothing personal, I'm just sensitive to smells." He knew you were lying. Your entire apartment smelled like garlic and marinara sauce from the pizza place downstairs. But he decided not to push it.
"My daughter - Sarah - she got it for me for Father's Day. Truth be told, I don't like it much, either," he told you, and much to his relief, he saw the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile.
"I'm sorry," you said quietly. He just shrugged and turned back to the sink.
"Nothin' for you to be sorry 'bout. Thought I offended you or somethin', is all," he told you as he worked on putting the faucet back together.
You took a few tentative steps closer to peer over his shoulder.
"Can you show me what you did to fix it?" you asked. He straightened up to look at you and twirled the wrench in his hand, deciding to be bold.
"If I do that, then I won't have an excuse to come see you when it breaks again."
You bit your lip to hide your smile as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He grinned and turned back to the sink. Maybe he still had a chance. He was nearly finished, but he showed mercy on you and explained what he did, anyway.
Once he was done, you walked him down to the first floor, thanking him profusely along the way.
"Don't mention it," he said, shoving his arms through his blazer as he walked, but turned back before you closed the door.
"Will I see you tomorrow?"
You swallowed the lump in your throat as you gazed up at him. Now that you were back outside and the scent wasn't so strong, you allowed yourself to acknowledge that Joel was a good looking man. A really good looking man. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed Patrick for ruining so many things for you, but you were afraid the worst thing he might have actually ruined for you was Joel.
You slowly nodded, then he grinned and tilted his head to the side.
"You have yourself a good rest of the day, sweetheart."
You felt yourself blush at the term of endearment, but luckily he had already turned away.
Chapter Summary: You take the next step in your relationship with Joel. (Smut. It's just all smut. All of it.)
Chapter Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), Joel being a consent king, unprotected piv sex, fingering, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), reader is a little bit sexually inexperienced, brief thoughts of SA but absolutely nothing descriptive, talking about injuries (bruising), oh yeah and infidelity duh
WC: 7.3K
Series Masterlist
There were a lot of things that went through your head when you woke up that morning. Primarily, your thoughts centered around giving your statement and dread you felt about Joel possibly treating you differently once he heard the truth. And you were partially right. He did end up treating you differently, but not at all in the way you expected.
No, you certainly didn't expect your evening to end up with Joel's body pressing yours into your couch, his lips alternating between peppering chaste kisses along your jaw to his tongue probing desperately into your mouth while your fingers gripped his tie and the stiff fabric of his dress shirt, holding him as close as possible because you were terrified he might stop.
You knew you were technically being unfaithful, but was it really cheating if your husband treated you like a prisoner? If you never had any means of escape from a marriage you felt manipulated into? Besides, Joel knew everything now and he still chose to stay. Nobody's ever stood by you or tried to help you the way he had. Whatever ended up happening that night, you knew it wasn't going to be meaningless. You trusted him, you knew that much, and for once in your life you finally felt like maybe, just maybe, you could free yourself from Patrick and live the life you deserved.
His hand cupped your cheek, fingertips digging into the back of your neck while he held all his weight on his other forearm, hovering above you and trying to keep his hips from rubbing against your center but his body was desperate for friction, and he knew he couldn't hold himself back much longer. After everything he heard you say, every horrible memory you were forced to bring up and relive, he wanted nothing more than to help take it all away. He wanted to cleanse your mind of those memories, of the life you felt forced to suffer through, and prove to you right then and there that love shouldn't hurt. Had you ever even really felt love before? Truly? Probably not.
Joel's hand left your face and drifted down to your shoulder, then gingerly grazed your ribs, his tongue still dancing with yours, trying to pull out that sweet sound you gifted him with only once before at the carnival. A sound that haunted his dreams, a sound he replayed over and over in his mind late at night when he tried to sleep but was too consumed with thoughts of you.
His fingers dipped lower and nervously fidgeted with the belt of your robe. He was suddenly unsure, now that he was aware of your past, what you would be comfortable with. He pulled back and looked down at you, watching as your chest heaved beneath him. Your perfect, swollen lips were parted and your eyes were dark with lust as you gazed up at him.
"Maybe we should slow down," he said, selfishly regretting the offer the moment it left his lips, but the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you. Thankfully, you shook your head and tugged gently on his tie, urging him back down, but once again his conscience got the best of him and he hesitated.
You furrowed your brow, trying to figure out what the problem was when it occurred to you, a thought that quickly snapped you out of your trance in shame. Scooting yourself back so you could prop yourself up on your elbows, you took a deep breath before speaking.
"Right. Nikki."
His eyes widened and he immediately shook his head.
"No, that's over," he told you, and you inwardly sighed with relief. "But what you said at the station earlier, I just thought..." he trailed off, a part of him not wanting to ruin the moment but the other part of him trying to be respectful. It was clearly not something you were used to. You were used to a man who just took what he wanted from you over and over and Joel absolutely refused to be like that, no matter how badly he ached for you.
"Were you telling me the truth before?" you asked, seemingly ignoring what he just said. He frowned, not following. "You told me you would make me forget about every man who's ever had me."
His breath caught in his throat as he remembered that night at the carnival when he walked you back to your car. He had no idea his words would have such an impact. At the time, it was just something he said in the heat of the moment, but hearing those words echoed back to him, after everything he now knew, he took it as a challenge. All you seemed to know was pain and hurt, but if you let him, he would show you how good it could really be.
"Yes," he said, his eyes boring into yours and watching as a flicker of excitement passed over your perfect features and suddenly all he could think about was taking your pain away.
"Then make me forget."
His mouth crashed down on yours again and finally, finally, he heard that little moan. The one that he couldn't get out of his head. The one that drove him crazy ever since he heard it. The one he daydreamed about every time he looked at you. He growled against your mouth as his arms wrapped around your middle, scooping you upright and making you grip his shoulders for dear life as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist while he blindly walked towards your bedroom. You giggled against his mouth when his shoulder knocked into the doorframe and he cursed under his breath. He opened his eyes for just a moment so he could get the layout of the room and put you down safely on the bed.
His lips traveled down your neck while he nimbly undid your robe, his hands sliding underneath the thin fabric, fingers dancing over your delicate skin. He felt you stiffen under him when he touched your side and once again, he pulled back to look. Any other day, his eyes would have locked onto your exposed breasts, but not today. Today, he was focused entirely on the enormous bruise still struggling to heal over your ribs and he had to actively suppress his reaction, but you could still see it. His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw as he continued to examine the deep blues and purples that littered your beautiful skin.
"I'm fine," you told him quickly, your breath coming in quick gasps as you tried to pull his attention back. "Promise, I'm fine."
His eyes found yours for a brief moment before he looked back at the bruise, then leaned forward to plant a tender kiss against it. He heard you sigh, your hands finding his hair, and he kissed your ribs again, forcing himself to shift gears. You didn't want his pity. Not right now.
"You were naked under this thing the whole time you were talkin' to me?" he murmured, his lips traveling across your stomach, leaving soft licks in its wake.
"I told you I was in the shower," you replied teasingly, grateful that he moved past the bruise as his mouth found the underside of your breast. He pulled your nipple into his mouth and you arched your back with a gasp, his tongue flicking over the stiffened peak.
"Joel?" you whispered, and he hummed in response, still lavishing your chest with attention. "Take off your clothes."
You felt the prickle of his facial hair against your overly sensitive skin when his lips turned up into a smile. He pushed himself up, kneeling between your legs as he stared down at you watching him tug slowly on his tie, unknotting it before tossing it on the floor behind him. His eyes were still glued to yours, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. You watched, lips parted, your eyes greedily drifting down his chest as his thick fingers undid each button with precision until he finally got to the bottom, tugging the shirt out of his slacks and shrugging it off.
Your hands came up to work on his belt while he lifted his white T-shirt off over his head. His hands dropped to his sides as he tilted his hips forward more, giving you better access until you yanked the leather from his waist aggressively, making him chuckle. You were about to start working on his pants when you noticed the deep purple bruise marking the right side of his chest and you gasped, sitting up to reach out to him.
"Oh my god," you whispered, your eyes filled with worry.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," he told you quickly, but he could see the pain behind your eyes when you looked at him.
"I'm so sorry," you told him, your lower lip beginning to tremble.
"Don't be sorry," he said, his hands coming up to cup your face. "None of this is your fault."
"I made him come here," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. "I moved here and ruined everything!"
"No, stop," he said, shaking his head and pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. "You movin' here's the best thing that ever happened to me, okay?"
You sniffled and looked up at him, his thumb drying your tears as quickly as they fell.
"It's okay," he whispered, giving you another soft kiss. You sighed, leaning into his touch like a lifeline. Like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. "You're okay," he added in-between kisses, and you decided to believe him. You let him ease you back onto the mattress, his warm skin pressing against your chest while your hands dipped between your bodies, fingers fumbling with the button on his pants. He lifted his hips up ever so slightly, just enough to give you room to maneuver his zipper and tug on his waistband, but not too much because he couldn't fathom not feeling your body against his for even one unnecessary second.
When you finally managed to pull his pants down, he kicked his legs out behind him, flicking the restricting material onto the floor to join the rest of his clothes. His mouth traveled down your chin, along your jaw and taking a small break behind your ear before he continued down your throat, his teeth grazing gently against the delicate skin as you began to writhe underneath him.
"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asked, his lips sucking on your collarbone. He realized how ridiculous it seemed to ask that now that you were already both naked, but he felt the need to give you another chance to back out. He couldn't get your words out of his head and he needed to make sure you wanted this just as badly as he did.
"Yes," you moaned, tipping your head back, your eyes sliding shut. "Yes, please Joel, please, please - oh!"
You gasped when you felt his thick fingers trace along your folds, collecting the wetness there before his fingertip teased at your entrance, trying to learn your body's cues so he could give you exactly what you needed. Your hips jutted upwards, encouraging him to continue and he smirked against your skin as he sunk one finger inside. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as you let out a low moan, the sound sending even more blood directly between his legs and he was beginning to question if he was going to make it.
"Fuck, baby," he murmured, withdrawing his finger quickly and making you whine. "I know, I know," he cooed, his breathing becoming shallow as he repositioned himself between your legs. "I just- I can't- shit, I need you so bad," he told you as he notched himself against your opening. You eagerly spread your legs wider, looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes, your chest and neck all pink from his facial hair. He watched how the rush of blood underneath your soft skin he caused helped to hide the bruises and scrapes someone else left. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Like he was watching the start of him erasing all those horrible memories.
"You tell me if you don't like somethin', or if it's too much, or if it hurts-"
"Okay," you said, cutting him off and nodding enthusiastically.
"Okay," he repeated, his voice a little shaky as he locked eyes with you for one more brief moment before pressing forward. You both groaned, jaws hanging open as your bodies welcomed each other so perfectly. He inched in slowly, trying to memorize every single second until he bottomed out, one hand gripping your hip and the other clenched into a fist next to your head, holding himself up so he could watch your face for any sign of discomfort. When it became clear there was none, he let himself drop down onto his forearm so he could slot his mouth back over yours. You moaned sweetly into the kiss, your fingers coming up to grip his curls and he felt goosebumps travel down his arms. Fuck, he really liked it when you tugged a little on his hair.
You lifted your hips a bit, rocking them, trying to get him to move, but he tightened his grip and pushed your hips back down.
"Not yet," he gasped, letting his forehead rest against yours as he tried to collect himself. "Just... just gimme a second."
"Is everything okay?" you asked after another moment, and he let out a soft laugh.
"Yeah, I'm just afraid this'll end too soon. Gotta make you feel good first," he explained sheepishly, planting a small kiss on the tip of your nose.
"About that," you said, dropping your hands from his hair. "I can't... no one's ever... y'know," you trailed off, feeling your cheeks flare. He frowned as he pieced together what you were trying to say.
"You've never had an orgasm?"
"Well, on my own, yes. But not with someone else," you said hurriedly, shame and embarrassment coursing through your veins as you watched his face fill with disappointment.
"It doesn't mean I don't enjoy it, you just don't need to-"
"Make you come?" he finished for you, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.
"Uh huh," you squeaked, hoping you weren't as red as you felt. He tsked and shook his head.
"Oh baby, you poor thing," he mumbled, leaning down to give you another sweet kiss before reaching to the side to grab a pillow. "Lift up."
Confused, you did as you were told, lifting your hips up so he could wedge the pillow underneath you.
"Comfortable?"
"Yeah, but-"
"Don't worry, I got this. I got you," he said, giving his hips an experimental roll and watching your face for your reaction. You sucked in a deep breath and your eyes fluttered closed. Good start.
He gave it to you nice and slow, dragging himself in and out, building you up little by little and paying close attention to your body language. If it was possible to hate Patrick even more, he did. You had said your relationship together wasn't always bad, but as he suspected, your definition of good was not at all what it should be. And Joel was eager to prove that to you.
"So beautiful. D'you know how beautiful you are?" he murmured, picking up the pace just a bit, his tongue flicking over your nipple each time he sunk back inside you. You gasped, the sensation unraveling something in you. "D'you know how crazy I am 'bout you? Think 'bout you all the time," he switched his attention to your other breast, his thrusts remaining steady as he waited for your body to tell him what it needed.
"Me, too," you whispered, your hands coming back up to get tangled in his hair, making him groan.
"Talk to me, I wanna make you feel good," he said, lifting his head off your chest to look at you. "Tell me what you like."
"It's good," you assured him, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, little gasps leaving your mouth each time he pushed back into you.
"Nah, not good enough," he determined, propping himself up on both forearms now so he could change the angle. His fingers suddenly reached down to grip your knee, pulling it up to your chest before falling back on his forearms. You gasped, eyes flying open as he circled his hips and he smirked. Got it.
"Ohmygod!" you cried out, pulling on his hair and making him moan. "Right there, Joel, don't stop-"
You had no idea how he managed to actually do it, but he did. He reached a spot deep inside that you didn't know even existed and it wasn't long until you felt yourself falling, his name tumbling from your lips over and over and you had a faint idea of how loud you were being but you didn't care. Nobody, including yourself, has ever made you feel that good and it was making you dizzy, your brain foggy as you tried to make sense of what just happened.
"Fuck, what I tell you? So good, you did so good," he mumbled, his lips frantically finding yours as he chased his own high. "I'd give you one more but it's a miracle I lasted this long," he panted, his head falling to your shoulder as you still struggled to come back to earth underneath him. Your fingers in his hair loosened and he grunted, one of his hands coming up to make sure you kept your hands there and you quickly figured out what he wanted. Making sure to grasp a good handful, you gave his hair one firm tug.
"Oh shit!" he groaned, pulling out of you just in time to come all over your inner thighs. "Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, his hips weakly thrusting forward until he was spent, collapsing in a heap on top of you.
"Sorry," he mumbled into the crook of your neck and you giggled. "I might've ruined your sheets," he added with a chuckle, and you laughed even harder.
"It's okay," you said, burying your nose in his messy curls. "I'm on birth control, you could've..."
"Didn't exactly have enough time to ask first if that was okay," he said, smiling against your neck. What a concept, you thought. Being asked first.
"Do you, um," you began, not sure why you felt so nervous around him still. "Do you like getting your hair pulled?"
Joel laughed softly and finally rolled off to the side, allowing you to take deep breaths again now that his weight wasn't crushing you.
"I think I only like it when you do it," he said, grinning while the tips of his ears started to turn red. You hummed and rolled to your side so you could face him.
"I'll keep that in mind for next time," you replied with a wink.
He rolled onto his side as well, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
"I like the sound of a 'next time'," he said, making you blush before planting a quick kiss on your forehead and standing up with a grunt. You watched as he left your room, still completely naked, the sight making you grin and bite your lip. He returned just a minute later with a wet washcloth and you watched as he gently cleaned you up before attempting to spot clean your sheets, then giving up and flopping back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest.
It felt so warm, so safe, so peaceful that you never wanted to leave. His big hands gently rubbed your arm, his touch so soft and soothing that you almost felt like you could fall asleep. You closed your eyes and pressed your ear against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of his heart. Every strong beat a reminder that he was real, that he cared, that he was going to help you. Even if your relationship never got to this point, you knew he would still help you get out of this mess you were in, because he was a good man. You just wish it didn't take so long to find him.
You glanced at your digital clock and tried to hide your disappointment when you saw it was nearly 6pm.
"You'll have to get going soon," you reminded him, your fingers running lightly over his bare chest. "Sarah's probably waiting for you."
He hummed and picked up his phone, checking his calendar quickly before dialing a number. You could hear the ringing on the other end and a tinny voice answer.
"Hey Tommy. Can you or Maria pick up Sarah and keep her overnight? Yeah, I'm workin' a late one, not sure when I'll get home."
Joel listened to his brother's answer for a moment before nodding his head.
"That's no problem, I'll call and tell her you'll be there in an hour. Thanks, I owe you one." He pulled the phone back and you tried to stifle your smile as he went to dial Sarah.
"You don't have to-"
"Shh," he said, then "hey babygirl, I'm sorry but I'm gonna be late tonight. Uncle Tommy'll come by to get you in an hour and you can stay at his house... yeah, I'm sure if you wanted to do your homework at the diner, he won't care. You all good? How was your day?"
You nestled into his shoulder as you listened to him talk to his daughter, asking her questions about school and her extra curricular activities before he finished up the call, telling her he loved her as he hung up.
"You didn't have to do all that."
"Yeah, but I wanted to," he said, kissing the top of your head. You sighed and leaned back into his chest, then froze when you heard his stomach.
"You didn't eat, did you?" you asked with a smirk, and you felt his chest bounce lightly up and down as he stifled a laugh. "Can I make you something? Do you like pasta?" you asked him, sitting up in bed but he reached out and grabbed your shoulders, pulling you back into him.
"Yeah, but I don't want you leavin' just yet," he mumbled, his voice rumbling in his chest and echoing through your ear. You couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was, and you kicked yourself for not telling him everything sooner.
"The noodles are already cooked, it won't take long," you said, sitting back up again after a minute, and this time, he let you, but only after he insisted on helping. Or at least, he thought he was helping by leaning against the counter and circling his arms around your waist while you stirred the sauce.
"If I burn this, it's your fault," you teased, tipping your head back against his shoulder as his lips made their way down your neck.
"Mm, worth it," he mumbled.
You watched him eat from across your small kitchen table with a goofy look on your face. It was still hard to believe the past couple hours really happened, and having him sitting in your tiny apartment eating leftover pasta in his boxers was just making it seem even more surreal.
"What're you lookin' at me like that for?" he asked, his mouth turning up into a smirk as he swallowed the last of his food.
"Can't I just look at you?"
"You got somethin' goin' on up there," he said, tapping the side of his head and leaning back in his chair.
"I was just thinking how the book club ladies were right about you."
He frowned and gave you a confused look.
"All the women in this town are crazy about you, you know that, right?"
He shrugged a little but you saw his cheeks begin to color.
"You're the only one I want crazy 'bout me," he replied, making your heart flutter.
"Mission accomplished," you said, and he chuckled before standing up to wash his plate in your sink, and you watched, still in utter disbelief he was standing there barely dressed in your kitchen.
"I can feel you still lookin' at me," he said, his back to you, and you laughed.
"I'm just having a hard time believing this isn't a dream," you said, coming over to lean against the doorway.
He turned around, drying his hands on a towel before looking you up and down.
"Want me to prove it?" he asked lowly as he took a few short steps towards you. He bent down slightly so he could run his hands up the backs of your legs, disappearing beneath your robe to grab onto your ass. You could feel your knees weakening already, his touch continuing to be your downfall.
"Yes," you whispered, tipping your head so you could find his throat, your tongue leaving wet marks after every little bite to his tanned skin while his hands kept roaming over your body. He quickly became fed up with your robe and before you knew it, it was piled in a heap next to your fridge.
He dropped to his knees, leaving your head spinning at the sudden loss, and when he lifted one of your legs up to rest over his shoulder, you gasped. Even though you knew the answer, you asked him anyway.
"W-what are you doing?"
His eyes found yours and he paused, looking up at you from between your legs, his eyes hot with desire and his curls a floppy mess on his head.
"Is this okay?" he asked, and you swallowed nervously.
"I d-don't... I've never had -" you cut yourself off as your cheeks once again flushed with embarrassment.
"You're kiddin' me, right?" he asked, his expression unreadable. "No one's ever licked this perfect pussy before?"
"Jesus Christ, Joel!" you laughed, taken aback by his blunt words. Never in your life had you ever expected to hear this kind of talk come out of his mouth.
He chuckled and nosed at your folds, making you gasp.
"You ain't heard nothin' yet," he muttered before flicking his tongue out and licking a broad stripe up your center. Your hands flew out to grip the counter behind you, your mouth hanging open, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone sentence.
"Oh, my god," you finally managed to whisper, your head tilting forward and your eyes sliding shut as he buried his face between your legs, his facial hair rubbing against your overly sensitive skin, making it difficult to remember how to breathe.
His fingers gripped your thigh, keeping you in place as he lapped at your arousal, moaning to himself at the taste. Earlier, he felt so angry no one had been able to make you come before, but now he found something incredibly arousing about being able to do these things for you for the very first time. He felt himself throb as he listened to your perfect little moans, garbled versions of his name and curses driving him wild. When your legs began to shake, he hooked your other one over his shoulder, holding you up as you leaned back onto your forearms, trying to take some of the weight off him.
You looked down just as he slid one finger inside your aching heat, hooking it and brushing against that same spot as before while his lips wrapped around your clit, the combination of the two sending you head first into a dizzying orgasm. He felt your arms slack and he quickly reached up with his free hand to make sure you didn't fall, all the while his mouth and finger rode out your climax, slowing down only when your body warned him to. He could feel it when your stomach muscles began to jump and your legs twitched over his shoulders, so he finally pulled away with a satisfied smirk, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your inner thighs as you tried to catch your breath.
"God, you're really good at that," you finally managed to say.
He grinned and carefully set you back on your feet before standing back up with a groan.
"Can't believe no one could ever made you come before," he murmured into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.
"Maybe you just got lucky," you teased, and he chuckled for a moment before scooping you up, making you squeal in surprise.
"Don't give me a challenge and expect me not to follow through," he said as he walked you over to your tiny kitchen table and laid you down. Your heart raced as you watched him fling his shirt over his head and you did your best to ignore the ugly bruise this time, just as he had been doing to yours. He pushed his boxers down to his knees, not even bothering to remove them as he gripped his erection in his fist, sliding the tip slowly through the remains of your release and watching you flinch when he nudged against your sensitive clit.
His eyes found yours and he waited, wanting to hear you say it, needing to hear you say it.
"Yes," you whispered with a nod. "I need you, Joel. Please make me come again."
He wasted no time sinking back inside you, a groan of relief slipping past his lips as he looked down and watched you stretch so perfectly around him.
"You got any idea how many times I've imagined you sayin' somethin' like that to me?" he said through gritted teeth, watching as your breasts bounced lightly underneath him from the force of his thrusts. "How many times I came all over my own hand thinkin' 'bout you? God, you feel so fuckin' good, better than I ever imagined."
Somewhere in the back of your head, you knew you should feel embarrassed listening to his confession, but at the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. In fact, it only served to spur you on, your slick coating him more and more every time he pulled out. You hooked your ankles around his back and your fingers gripped the backs of his hands, which were holding your hips in place as he fucked into you, stopping you from sliding up the table.
"Kiss me," you mumbled, and without a second thought he lifted you up so you were sitting on the edge of the table, his hips still rocking into you as his mouth crashed over yours. One arm around your middle, the other around your shoulders, holding you tightly against him as his tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth, pouring every ounce of affection he had for you into the kiss.
He dropped one hand to your waist, tilting your hips and making you gasp, your legs nearly losing their grip around him. You could hear the legs of the table squeaking against the floor and had you not been so far gone, you might have wondered if it could be heard in the pizza place downstairs.
"Fuck it," he growled, picking you up, growing frustrated with the table and turned around to pin you against the wall instead.
You cried out his name, the new position making you see stars.
"Think you can come again for me?" he whispered in your ear, his hot breath on your neck sending a shiver down your spine.
"Yes," you whined, tipping your head back against the wall, surrendering over your body. Trusting him, needing him to give you something you've never had before. Something beyond the physical. Something meaningful. Something good.
Your fingers dug into his shoulders, looking for something to ground you as the wave of euphoria crashed over you. You buried your face against his neck, practically sobbing his name as he continued to fuck you through it. Your legs began to weaken but you did your best to hold on.
"Oh fuck, I'm gonna come," he groaned, pulling back just a bit, just enough to look down and watch as he disappeared inside your wet heat over and over, the visual sending him over the edge.
"Come inside me," you mumbled, still in a daze. You heard him moan and then whimper, the force of his orgasm taking every last bit of strength and willpower he had. His hips bucked forward, determined to give you every drop of his spend until he finally slowed and collapsed against you.
"Can you stand?" he asked, his mouth against your shoulder as an aftershock ran down his spine.
"Yeah," you said weakly, forcing your eyes open as he slid out of you and gently placed your feet back on the floor. You stood, squeezing your legs together as he pulled his boxers back up and scooped your robe off the floor, draping it back around your shoulders.
"You look tired," he said softly, hooking a finger under your chin, tilting it up so you would look at him.
"I've had a big day," you said with a lazy smile.
The two of you spent the rest of the evening on the couch, trying to watch TV but you were so content and relaxed, you once again found yourself falling asleep against him, his fingers stroking small circles over your back as you drifted off.
You woke up with a start early the next morning, the day before seeming like a fever dream until you felt Joel's arms wrapped around you. At some point he must have carried you to bed because that is where you currently found yourself, his warm body pressed up against yours underneath your sheets. You inhaled deeply, your whole bed smelling just like him. A familiar, comforting smell that made your muscles relax as you melted back into his hold. You couldn't see the time, but you knew it was way too early, so you tried to fall back asleep, however, your body was already responding to being so close to him, and you were finding it difficult to think about anything else.
You shifted restlessly next to him, trying your hardest to ignore the ache between your legs: one that was a mixture of soreness from the night before, and a new, growing need. You never really thought of yourself as a very sexual person. Even when you first met Patrick, you couldn't recall ever feeling like this. Some foolish part of you wondered if it was something else that was the driving force behind your neediness, but you quickly dismissed that idea. It had to be the way he could read your body like a book, maneuver you and touch you exactly the right way at exactly the right time that caused you to crave him this badly because you weren't sure what you would do if it was the alternative. You didn't want to even think about that yet because you knew neither of you could do anything about it until you figured out how to deal with Patrick, and although Joel made promises to help, you knew not to get your hopes up too high.
"You always move around this much?" he teased, his voice a deep, low rumble in his chest, making the ache for him grow even stronger.
Rolling over in his arms, you turned to face him, his eyes still shut but the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. He looked so perfect in the morning, it almost wasn't fair. His tousled curls and his voice sounding more like a growl than anything else made up your mind, not that you needed much more convincing.
Deciding to ignore his question, you leaned forward to press wet kisses against his bare chest, slowly making your way across and pausing when you got to his bruise. You made sure to be gentle as you peppered the area with kisses, because even though he said it didn't hurt, you knew better.
"Mm, I could get used to this," he sighed, eyes still closed as he pulled you even closer. He was so warm and he smelled so good and you felt so safe. If you had it your way, you wouldn't leave that bed for the rest of the day.
You continued to trail little bites and licks up his neck, his pebbled skin salty against your tongue while your hand slipped down between your bodies and behind his waistband to wrap your fingers around his already hardening length. He let out a small gasp and his eyes finally opened, looking down at you heatedly as you slowly stroked him up and down.
"Again?" he asked in disbelief, but he was already rolling you over so he could position himself on top of you, his hand sliding down your side to untie the robe you never ended up changing out of the night before. He pulled his head back a bit so he could flick your robe open, your lips losing contact with his skin but your hand still slowly working him underneath his boxers.
"Need you," you mumbled, your eyelids heavy with sleep and lust.
"Yeah?" he asked, fully awake now as his fingers toyed with your nipple, rolling it between his fingers, making you whine. "Tell me, baby. Tell me what you need."
"Need you to fuck me," you replied, no longer feeling any shame or embarrassment. He growled and grabbed your wrist, pulling you off of his cock and gently pressing your arm into the mattress so he could yank his boxers down with his other hand. As he was about to notch himself at your opening, you stopped him.
"Can I be on top?"
He glanced up at you and a huge grin spread across his face.
"Fuck yes, you can," he said, quickly rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so you straddled his hips.
"I never got to do it this way before," you told him, lifting your hips so you could position him under you. He was about to reply but you began to slowly sink down, making his jaw drop, words failing him.
"Wha- fuck," he groaned, his teeth clenched and neck strained when you found yourself fully seated on him, and you let out a sigh of relief. "Whatever you want, it's yours," he finally said, sliding his eyes shut as you began to roll your hips slowly, his hands on your waist gently guiding you.
You planted your hands firmly on his chest, careful to avoid the bruise as you furrowed your brow and picked up your pace, alternating between rolling and grinding on top of him. His thick length reached depths you didn't know existed, and soft, little grunts slipped past your lips each time your skin slapped together.
"God, you're good at that," he mumbled, echoing your earlier words back. His eyes remained closed but his breath was becoming shallower the faster your hips moved.
"You think?" you asked him, suddenly feeling shy. His eyes popped open to find yours and he nodded.
"Oh, yeah. Fuck, so good," he snarled, his gaze dropping down you watch you bounce on him, something he thought he would never actually get to experience but fantasized about more times than he could count.
"I think it's -" you cut yourself off with a gasp when you found a particularly good angle, your eyes squeezing shut, desperately trying to focus. "Think it's all you," you finally managed to get out.
"Hell no," he said with a shake of his head, but your eyes were still closed. "Look at me, baby."
You forced your eyes open, pupils blown wide with desire, lips swollen and parted as you continued to ride him.
"It's you. You're fuckin' amazing, and I'm so sorry no one's told you that before."
Your hips faltered at the unexpectedly sweet sentiment, but his hands urged you to continue, so you did.
You leaned forward, putting more pressure on his chest as you bounced up and down. Joel watched, his gaze transfixed on your face as you chased your high, using him to give yourself what you wanted.
"That's right, take it," he said encouragingly, helping you move up and down a little faster, your mouth forming a small circle the closer and closer you got to your orgasm. "Fuckin' take it, take what you need." And give me your pain. I'll take it all.
"Oh fuck, Joel," you whined, tipping your head back as you felt the heat pooling low in your belly. "Fuck, I think I'm gonna come," you added, your breath coming in sharp gasps as your legs began to grow weak from the effort.
"Look at me," he panted, a thin layer of sweat coating his neck and chest as he tried to hold himself back from flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress.
You lazily rolled your head forward, forcing your eyes open so you could look at him.
"Wanna look at you when you come," he explained, and maybe yesterday you would have blushed, but today you just nodded and furrowed your brows in concentration, your release so close you could taste it.
"That's it baby, c'mon, give it to me. I can feel it, feel you squeezin' me. All for me, ain't that right? All mine?" he rambled, his words pushing you higher and higher.
"Yeah," you whined. His eyes were ablaze when he looked up at you, raw need and desire painted across his face. "All yours. You make me feel so good, Joel."
"Show me," he commanded, his nostrils flaring, his hands gripping your hips until you moaned his name so loudly you should have been embarrassed but all you could focus on was the way he made you feel.
He watched you fall apart on top of him, the sight filling him with so much pride and satisfaction that he quickly sat up so you were sitting on his lap as he fucked into you, desperate to join you, his mouth covering yours messily. Your fingers raked through his hair, twisting around the curls before giving it a sharp tug. He groaned loudly, thrusting deep into you until his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside you once again.
"That was incredible," he panted against your mouth, trying to catch his breath. You just slumped against him tiredly, your body unable to hold itself up any longer. He eased you both down onto the bed, letting you lay on top of his sweaty chest while he rubbed your back, his nose buried in your hair. "You're incredible," he said softly, correcting himself.
A nagging thought in the back of your head wondered what this meant for you two, but you didn't want to break the spell. For the first time in such a long time, you were happy and content and you didn't want to ruin it. But you knew the town was too small for your relationship with Joel to remain a secret, and if people didn't already know, they would soon find out you were still married to Patrick. You chewed on your lip as your mind wandered, still lying on top of him, your head rising and falling with each breath he took.
"You alright?" he asked, picking up on your silence.
"Mhm, just tired," you said, lifting your head to give him a small smile. He searched your eyes for a moment, not believing you.
"You sure? Did I hurt you?" he asked, pinching his eyebrows together. You reached a hand up to his face, the pad of your thumb smoothing out the frown, making him smile.
"You could never hurt me," you told him, hoping you were right before pressing a kiss against his lips.
Chapter Summary: Joel finds out the truth and convinces you to press charges.
Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, domestic violence and SA (discussed after the fact), mental and physical abuse, detailed conversations about DV and SA (I didn't get too descriptive about the SA but I do use the R word a couple times) please let me know if I missed anything because there is a lot going on here
WC: 9K
A/N: as the title implies, we are going to get more details about what happened to reader in this one so once again, please heed the warnings and don't read if you think it will be triggering for you. I tried not to be too graphic.
Series Masterlist
Joel could hardly sleep that night. Instead of going to the station, he headed home so he could be with Sarah. She wondered why he got home so early from his date, but he dodged the question and the two of them worked together in silence - Sarah on her homework, Joel on his incident report. When she asked him why he was working from home, he just shook his head and said something came up. She was a smart girl. She knew something was bothering him, but she didn't push it and he was grateful.
He tossed and turned all night, his mind reeling while he looked at his phone every few minutes. He checked the volume, he made sure do not disturb was off, wondering if you would reach out, but you never did. Maybe it wasn't unusual for Patrick to not come home. Or maybe you heard what happened and you were mad at Joel. That worried him the most. The fear that his actions might have destroyed what fragile relationship he had left with you ate him up as he stared blankly at his ceiling.
Morning came too quickly and too slowly all at once. He rubbed his tired eyes as he dragged himself into the bathroom. When he leaned forward to turn the water on, he was met with a sharp pain in his chest. He glanced down, rubbing the area tenderly and realized a large bruise was forming from his fight the night before. He winced when he pressed on a particularly sensitive spot and tried his best to avoid the area during his shower.
After he dropped Sarah off at school, he headed into work, his heart beginning to beat faster the closer he got to the station. He had no doubt in his mind the whole town knew what happened last night, but he was too tired and too overwhelmed to care about their curious questions and senseless gossip.
When he walked in, he breezed right past Helen's desk with a curt nod, doing his best to avoid all eye contact until he was within the safety of his office. He booted up his ancient computer and waited, his thumb rubbing mindlessly against his lower lip as he stared out his window.
He would go to the diner today. He already decided he had to see you. The radio silence was killing him and he needed to make sure you were okay. He was embarrassed about the Facebook messages, even more so that you weren't the one to read them, but Patrick was right. They were not innocent. The words held more weight than they appeared, but he had to come to terms with the fact that you were not his, and then maybe with some closure, he would be able to move on.
The morning dragged on slowly. Bobby caught him at the coffee maker, already working on his third cup, depending solely on the caffeine to help keep him going.
"Hey, boss. You look like shit, but not as bad as him," Bobby said, pouring himself more coffee and jutting his chin to the back of the building where the holding cells were located.
"Feel like shit," Joel mumbled, leaning against the counter and taking a sip from his mug.
"Think you broke his nose," Bobby added, finally looking up at him. "Called the doc but turns out he's real busy this mornin', won't be able to come by til after hours. Such a damn shame," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Joel understood what he was saying without him having to say it. The people in this town looked out for one another and didn't take kindly to a stranger hurting one of their own. They were leaving Patrick to deal with his injuries longer than necessary.
"I don't think I broke anythin', he did that all on his own chargin' into that table," Joel said, but Bobby shook his head.
"Not the way he tells it," he replied with a chuckle. "You'd think you nearly killed him, the way he's been whinin' back there."
"No doubt lookin' for a lawsuit," Joel said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Don't worry, boss. You got a bar full'a witnesses. Hank already offered to give a statement and he was probably the only sober one there."
"Yeah, good. Thanks," Joel replied, pushing off the counter to head back to his office, trying to ignore the sideways glances of the men watching him from the bullpen. He shook his mouse and grimaced when he saw an email from the mayor looking to set up a meeting with him that week to discuss the incident. He knew he did nothing wrong, but the more attention this brought him, the worse he felt. Eventually, all of that talk would make its way back to you and Sarah, the truth most likely getting distorted along the way. He made a mental note to have a talk with his daughter that night as he slowly typed out a response to the mayor.
He swore he would try to get some actual work done, but he ended up spending more time staring out the window or at his phone, watching the minutes tick by til it was lunchtime and he could see you. Maybe he could pull you aside and talk to you in private. Maybe he could fix this.
The moment the clock read a reasonable hour, he jumped up from his seat and snatched his blazer from the coat hook, rolling his shoulders as he walked and put it on, then stifling a grunt when he felt a muscle in his chest pull from the effort.
He kept his head down as he walked down the street towards the diner, only glancing up once when he passed the pizza place. Your curtains were still drawn, no lights on that he could see, no sign of life.
A few people called out to him as he passed, but all he could muster was a tight smile and quick wave, not in the mood to get wrapped up into any conversations.
When he swung the door open, his eyes immediately went to the counter, searching you out but only finding Betty. Before he had a chance to look around the dining room, he heard María greet him.
"Where the hell were you last week?"
"I was here Friday," he muttered, looking around and avoiding her eyes.
"Yeah, with Nikki. Heard some stuff about that-"
"Is she here?" Joel asked, finally dragging his gaze to meet Maria's. She frowned and shook her head.
"No, she called in sick," Maria said, watching him carefully. "Joel, what's going on with you two? People are saying stuff about you and her husband, and-"
"She's sick?" Joel repeated, panic beginning to bubble to the surface. Maria nodded and shrugged.
"Yeah, people get sick, Joel. Hey! Where are you going?"
Joel didn't reply, he just hurried out the doors, nearly knocking down a middle aged couple as they were about to walk inside. He mumbled an apology as he jogged down the street towards your place.
Something was wrong.
Your eye cracked open when you heard the doorbell, the heavy thudding in your head making you immediately nauseous. You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut, rolling back under the covers. Maybe if you were quiet, Patrick would think you were at work and he would leave. But the bell kept ringing, the sound pinging around in your brain making the headache you already had so much worse.
When he began pounding on the door and shouting from the street, you dragged yourself out of bed and wrapped yourself in a thin robe. You knew your body couldn't take much more, but letting him in would be better than allowing him to make a scene in front of the whole town, so you forced your feet forward, still limping from the day before.
You had to pause in the doorway to catch your breath as you clutched your side, wincing in pain as you tried to gingerly walk down the steps, but you were taking too long and he just kept pounding and shouting and the all noise was making you sick.
"Stop," you called out weakly, not convinced he would even hear you, but miraculously he did because the noise finally ceased, and you sighed a small breath of relief.
Shakily, you reached out to grip the doorknob, your fingers fumbling with the locks until you finally managed to twist the brass handle, opening the door just a sliver, worried people walking by would see your face. Then, unexpectedly, you heard Joel's voice instead of Patrick's say your name softly and before you could peer around the door, you went to quickly shut it with no success. His hand gripped the door tightly, but you held firm, hiding behind the wood.
"You shouldn't be here," you told him, your voice weak and broken.
"I know you're mad at me but I gotta talk to you 'bout what happened," he said from the other side. "Please let me in."
Unbeknownst to you both, you were talking about two different things.
"If he finds you here... no, you have to leave," you said, pushing the door again, but he didn't budge.
"Patrick?" he questioned, sounding confused.
"Yes, Patrick," you rasped, getting dizzy from exerting so much energy in your weakened state. "Please just go."
"He's in jail, did - no one told you?" he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice down.
"Jail?" you repeated, and your grip on the door loosened in surprise. Joel felt it and took the opportunity to open it further. You stepped back quickly, wrapping the robe around you tighter and trying to fidget with your hair to hide the marks, but you knew it was pointless the moment you saw his face after closing the door behind him.
"What the fuck?" he whispered, his jaw dropping as his eyes slowly raked over your face, neck and arms. Your lip was swollen and cut, the scab breaking open and beginning to weep the more you spoke. Your cheekbone had a light purple bruise blooming under your skin, as did your jaw. There was a small gash near your hairline and what looked like scratch marks down your neck, leading past your collar bone and below your robe. When you shakily brought your hands up to cover your face in shame, he saw the dark bruises on your wrists.
"Oh my god," he whispered, unable to bring his voice any louder. When he reached out, you flinched away and he felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.
"You should go," you said quietly, your eyes pinned to the ground.
"I can't," he said in utter disbelief. "I can't... why didn't you call me?"
You looked like you were about to reply but decided against it and instead still kept your gaze averted.
"C'mon, lemme take you upstairs and get a look at you," he said, reaching out again, but you stumbled backwards, nearly falling onto the steps.
"Please don't touch me," you told him, holding up a hand, and he nodded.
"Okay, I won't touch you," he said, trying to remain calm while his heart was breaking. "Let's just go upstairs, alright?"
Reluctantly, you agreed and slowly ascended the steps, Joel following dutifully behind. He ushered you over to the couch, making sure you were seated before he went to your bathroom, rummaging around in your medicine cabinet while you sat there, your face buried in your palms and trying not to cry.
He came back into the living room, trying not to make you feel worse by hiding his reaction, but it was hard. He swallowed and dropped his eyes to the assortment of first aid items in his hands.
"Did you take anything for the pain?" he asked, his voice thick, his throat tight.
"Not today, no," you admitted softly. He nodded and shook out two white pills from a bottle and handed them to you before getting you some water. While safely in the kitchen where you couldn't see him, he let out a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down. How could this happen? How didn't he see it? He should have checked on you earlier. He never should have fucking let you leave with Patrick yesterday. Guilt racked his brain as he exhaled slowly and went back to you in the living room.
"Here," he said, handing you the bottle of water. You took it and popped the pills in your mouth, wincing as you swallowed them down.
He sat down on the couch next to you but was sure to give you your space as he picked up the antiseptic and some gauze.
"Will you let me?" he asked, holding up the items in his hand. You paused and looked at them, then him. His eyes were wide and soft and shiny with unshed tears. Slowly, you nodded and watched as he twisted off the cap and put some of the antiseptic on the gauze, first pressing it gently against the gash on your forehead, then making a fresh one for your lip.
At first, he dabbed at the cut gently, ghosting over your skin as if he were afraid. But then he brought his other hand up to caress your chin, his fingers feather-like and so careful that it made your eyes flutter shut, his touch unlike anything you were used to. When you finally opened your eyes again, his hands were gone and he was staring at you, the look in his eyes morphing from sadness to one you were much more familiar with.
"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him," he said menacingly, sending a shiver down your spine.
"Don't," you said, shaking your head, but his eyes darkened and his jaw was set.
"Why didn't you tell me, sweetheart? I could've done somethin'. I could've-"
"What? What could you have done, Joel? I've heard it all before," you told him, your lip trembling. "I've tried. Believe me, I've tried. And it never works. Nothing ever changes and it just gets worse."
Joel shook his head, still not understanding.
"I'm a cop, I coulda protected you. There's laws in place for this kinda thing."
"I've gone to the cops, Joel! More than once! And they all told me the same shit!" you exclaimed, getting worked up now. "Then I go home, and magically my statement goes missing, or my medical exam report, and I'm in worse shape than before because guess what? It makes him really fucking mad when his buddies on the force find out what he does to his wife at home."
Joel's lips parted as he watched your chest heave for breath, the energy quickly draining from your frail body.
"I... I'm so sorry," was all he could say. He couldn't blame you for not trusting anyone, especially him, now that he finally knew the truth. Everything was starting to make sense. His guilt was pulling him down and he felt like he was drowning in it. So many things he should have done. Should have seen. He should have helped you but instead he trotted Nikki in front of you to make you feel even worse.
"I can really help you, though. I ain't like that," he said, scooting a little closer to you.
"I've heard that before, too," you said sadly, dropping your gaze to the ground. "There's no getting out of this. I thought by running I could try to start over, but it's clear now he will never let me go." You closed your eyes as two tears fell down your cheeks. You wiped them away angrily, hating yourself for being so weak all the time.
Joel felt his chest squeeze, his heart breaking as he watched you fall apart. He needed to do something. He couldn't let you down. You needed to get out of this, or else it could cost you your life.
"Look at me," he said, waiting until your tears slowed and you forced your eyes open. "I promise I'll help you. I fuckin' promise you, alright? You ain't in Pennsylvania, I ain't his buddy, and I will do whatever I gotta do to keep you safe."
You searched his face, eyes all wide and your heart sliced open, lying on the table between you. You've been let down so many times, it was so hard to tell when anyone was being truthful anymore, but you couldn't deny what you felt for him. And what he felt for you. You knew something was there, something real and honest and pure. He wouldn't have any reason to lie to you at this point, so after a moment, you nodded.
"Okay," you whispered, and you could see the relief flood his face.
He sat back on the couch and rubbed his chin in thought, staring at the TV screen across from him that wasn't even on while the gears in his tired head worked overtime.
"Alright," he finally said, slapping his knees and standing up from the couch. "First things first: you gotta get to a doctor."
You immediately recoiled and shook your head.
"Absolutely not."
"I'm sorry, but you have to. I gotta..." he trailed off and chewed the inside of his cheek before pushing onward. "I gotta have a doctor take pictures."
Your face instantly crumpled and you buried your face in your hands once again.
"I'm sorry," he whispered for what felt like the hundredth time, getting down on one knee to be eye level with you. "But in order for this to work, they gotta record evidence, okay?"
"Joel, I can't," you whimpered, your face still covered, but he nodded and caressed the side of your head with his palm.
"Yes, you can. I'll be right there, okay? Unless you don't want me there, but I'll go with you if you want. Or I'll wait outside the door. Whatever you need, I'll do it. I'm gonna get you outta this."
You sniffled and finally dropped your hands to your lap, your gaze finding his.
"This is the last time, I promise you," he said, staring deep into your eyes. "I'll never let him near you again."
You thought his words over for a moment, the two of you sitting in silence, looking at the other. One trying to earn trust, the other trying to give it. Finally, you closed your eyes and nodded, giving your consent for what was to come.
"Okay," Joel said softly, dropping his hand from your face and standing up to pull out his phone.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm lookin' up the number of a doctor I trust. She's a woman, too. She's real nice and sensitive. I've used her for a couple cases in the past," he said, finding the number and dialing it, bringing the phone up to his ear. Cases. You couldn't help but feel like just another victim the way he said it, even though he didn't mean it that way. You listened as he spoke to her over the phone in a hushed tone, not giving too much of your information away but insisting it was an urgent matter. When he hung up, he turned to you with a weak smile.
"She can see you this afternoon."
"Oh," you said, glancing down at your appearance. You weren't expecting to leave the house that day and you weren't sure what to do.
"It's okay," he said, sitting down next to you again and resting his hand on your knee. "I'll take you through the backdoor of her office, no one'll see you. She'll be fast."
You nodded and looked up at him.
"Maybe I should shower," you said. He paused and shifted his gaze away.
"You, uh," he cleared his throat and rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers. He knew this would come up, one way or another. "I don't mean to get into too much detail, but if he..." Joel trailed off, finding it difficult to finish his sentence. "If he did more than hit you, you shouldn't shower," he finally choked out, unable to look you in the eye.
You froze, finally understanding what he meant. He kept his eyes fixed on the wall, his neck tensing, his nostrils flaring, as he waited for your response.
"I won't shower, then," you finally said, your voice strained.
His eyes slid shut and he dropped his chin to his chest. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pinched the bridge of his nose while he tried to steady his breathing.
"I'll just go change," you mumbled, standing up while he nodded, still trying to breathe.
He did his best to collect himself while you were out of the room, but he could feel himself spiraling. What was he doing when it happened? Was he watching a movie with Sarah? Was he eating dinner? Was he getting ready for his fucking date with Nikki?
He could feel the tears welling up but he quickly wiped them away. You needed him to be strong. You needed someone to help you, to take care of you. He couldn't afford to be weak right now. He would let himself feel it later, when he was all alone at home and Sarah was asleep. When nobody needed him and he could just let the guilt and shame and sorrow wash over him.
"Jesus, Joel," Carol muttered as she left the exam room. Joel jumped up from his seat, anxiously waiting for it to be over. He rubbed his palms against his pants, trying to wipe the sweat away. She sighed and looked up at him, taking off her glasses.
"So?"
"So?" she repeated, shaking her head. "So, I have your evidence."
Joel nodded, waiting for her to continue.
"She's been through a lot," Carol said softly, walking him down to her office for privacy. She closed the door but he didn't sit down.
"She's gonna be lookin' for me," he explained, jutting his thumb over his shoulder.
"I'll be quick," she said, sitting down at her desk with a sigh. "There was significant scarring and healed bones, detailing years of abuse, and definitely evidence of some most recently."
"Yeah, I imagine anyone can see that by just lookin' at her face," he replied, but she shook her head.
"I didn't mean her face."
Joel felt his breath get caught in his throat.
"Right," he finally said, his voice cracking.
"She said her husband is a cop?" Carol asked, flipping open a yellow file on her desk. Joel nodded.
"Got him in lockup right now for swingin' on me at Hank's," he explained.
Carol's eyes glanced up at his and she quirked an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I heard something about that," she said, lacing her fingers together and looking at him closely. "Can I give you some advice, Joel?"
He shifted his weight, not sure where she was going with it, but nodded anyway.
"Don't take her statement yourself. Have someone else do it, alright?"
"Why?" he asked quickly, and she gave him a knowing look.
"Because it'll be gruesome, and you're too involved."
Joel frowned.
"Too-"
"Don't care what you've got going on with her, I'm just giving you some friendly advice. Let someone else do it," she said, her eyes softening. "Besides, you got into it with her husband last night. You don't want some hot shot lawyer tossing out her testimony in court because he can link together some personal relationship between you two."
Joel considered her words for a moment and reluctantly nodded. She was right. He was having a hard time keeping things separate, and he appreciated the clarity. He couldn't fuck this up for you. Not now.
"Anythin' else?"
She leaned back in her chair and shook her head.
"You'll have my report in the morning," she said. He nodded, thanking her again for seeing you on such short notice before exiting the room. He turned the corner just as you were opening the exam room door clutching a worn hoodie around yourself and looking around frantically before your eyes fell on him and you visibly relaxed.
"Hey, sorry. You alright?" he asked, his hands gently coming up to your shoulders to guide you towards the back exit. You gulped and nodded.
"Wasn't so bad," you said.
"Good. You did the right thing," he said as he held open the door for you and led you back to his truck.
Once you were comfortably seated and Joel merged back into traffic, you shot him a sideways glance and asked him the question that had been weighing on your mind since he came over that morning.
"Joel?"
"Hm?" he said, twisting his head to the side to change lanes.
"Why is Patrick in jail?"
Joel's grip on the steering wheel tightened and there was an uncomfortable pause before he sighed.
"He came at me last night. We happened to both be at a bar at the same time, he was drunk and swung on me."
"What?!" you exclaimed, twisting around in your seat to look at him.
"I thought you knew since he didn't come home last night. Thought you were avoidin' me by callin' off work," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.
"No, I had no idea. He hasn't been staying at my apartment, he has a motel room somewhere," you said, peering at his face, then dropping your gaze to his hands where you could see now his knuckles were a little red.
"Are you okay?" you asked after a beat, and he scoffed.
"Am I okay?" he repeated with a shake of his head. He looked at you in shock, the corner of his mouth turning up into a half smirk. "I'm fine. Can't believe you'd be worried 'bout me after what you went through."
"Of course I worry about you," you said softly, and he felt his heart melt. Why did you have to be so sweet? After everything you've been through, after everyone in your life has let you down, you were still so fucking sweet.
He wanted to say more. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn't. He couldn't put that kind of stress on you. It would be selfish to tell you how much he thinks about you, how much he wished you were his, how he hasn't been able to get you out of his head since the moment he laid eyes on you. No, that would be wrong. It wasn't the right time, so he swallowed the words back from the tip of his tongue and focused on the road.
"What's next?" you asked him as he walked you up to your front door. Mercifully, the weather was threatening to downpour so the streets were quiet.
"Well, next you'll have to come down to the station and give your statement so we can formally press additional charges," he said, knowing you wouldn't want to hear it but he was surprised when you simply nodded your head.
"Okay. When?"
"Tomorrow?" he offered, and you nodded again as you unlocked your door.
"I'll have to call off work or come by after," you told him, stepping inside and turning to look at him.
"Listen, 'bout that," Joel began, and you frowned. "I gotta tell Tommy."
"No!" you cried, your eyes going wide with worry, but he shushed you and shook his head.
"I gotta tell him so he can keep an eye on things, alright? I won't be able to keep him in lockup for much longer and I can't be with you all the time to protect you, d'you understand?"
"Joel..." you whimpered, burying your face in your hands. He had to physically restrain himself from pulling you into his arms. He fucking hated seeing you like this.
"We can file a restraining order tomorrow but a piece of paper won't necessarily keep him away, and I can't risk it," Joel explained, his heart breaking for you.
"Okay," you sniffled, finally coming to terms with it. If you were going to do this, you had to trust him.
"Okay," Joel repeated. "Tommy served in the Army, he knows what he's doin', I promise. I'll tell him to keep it quiet, alright?"
"Yeah," you whispered, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand.
"And no more walkin' back from work in the dark. Take your car or get a ride. If I can, I'll drive you - " Joel pulled out his phone to look at his calendar, but you stopped him.
"I can manage, but thank you."
You looked at one another for a moment, both of you unsure what else to say. You were thankful for what he was doing but you weren't sure you had the words to properly express your gratitude. Everything you wanted to say felt so small, so insignificant. So instead of attempting to cobble together some sentence that wouldn't do your feelings justice, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face against his warm chest. He quickly brought his arms up around you in return, gently placing his hands on your head and back as he held you carefully against him, as if he was worried you would break. He was absolutely certain you could feel how hard his heart was thumping in his chest, but he didn't care. He just wanted to feel you, to hold you, to keep you safe.
"It's gonna be okay," he told you, his voice heavy, and he felt you nod against him before pulling back, his chest suddenly feeling so empty.
"Thank you," you whispered, then spared him one more glance before heading inside, the door clicking shut softly behind you.
Later that evening, after you had forced yourself to eat some soup and drink some water, you were settling in on your couch when you heard a soft knock at your door. You muted your TV and strained your ears to listen. It didn't sound like a familiar knock, not one filled with anger or urgency. You glanced down at your phone, wondering if Joel had sent you a text that you missed, but nothing was there.
Hesitantly, you made your way down the steps. Your fingers brushed the doorknob, but before you opened it, you spoke through the door.
"Who's there?"
"It's me," Maria's voice drifted through the wood, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You unlocked the door and met her eyes. She tried to hold back the wince upon seeing your face, but you still caught it.
"Heard you might need some help," she said, holding up a small plastic bag. You frowned, confused, until she tilted it open for you to look inside. There, you found a variety of makeup bottles and powders in shades that looked pretty close to your skin tone.
You opened the door and let her in. You could tell you were able to take the stairs a little quicker than the morning, and you hoped that meant you were healing because you really couldn't afford to miss more time at work.
"Cute place," she said, glancing around before following you into your living room.
"Thanks," you murmured, turning the volume back on the TV as she settled into the couch next to you.
"I hope you don't mind," she said, motioning towards the bag. "Joel called and told Tommy what happened... I'm so sorry, I wish you would've called us, we could've helped you."
"Thanks," you said with a shrug. "I guess I'm just used to dealing with it on my own."
"Well if you're ever scared of staying alone, we have a spare bedroom, so please don't hesitate to ask."
You gave her a small smile, hoping she could tell how grateful you were. With the exception of one cousin back home, nobody had tried to stand up for you before. Not even your own parents. The whole concept was so foreign to you, you weren't sure how to respond.
Maria seemed to sense this and she changed the subject, leaning forward to sift through the contents of the drugstore bag, pulling out item after item and holding it up against your arm to decide which shade would work best. She spent the next hour helping you cover your cuts and bruises, and by the time you were done, you didn't look half bad.
"How are you feeling?" she asked as she packed up her things and shoved her sneakers back on.
"A little less sore," you admitted. "I should be able to work tomorrow."
"Why don't you take one more day? Joel said you're going down to the station tomorrow, it might take more out of you than you expect."
You thought it over for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. Money was a concern, but you could wait one more day, and maybe you could pick up an extra shift over the weekend.
You thanked her as she headed down the steps and she reminded you again to call her and Tommy if you ever needed anything, and you promised you would.
When you were finally on your own again, you sat in silence, thinking about these people who barely knew you, who you essentially lied to, banding together to help you out. It was unlike anything you were used to, and you were beginning to think you may have finally found your home.
The next morning, you paced around your living room, anxiously nibbling at your nails as you waited for Joel to ring the bell. He had insisted on picking you up. He said he could swing by after he dropped Sarah off at school, that it wouldn't be a problem and he passed by your apartment anyway. You didn't understand why he was so insistent: the walk was less than ten minutes, but you didn't feel like arguing.
You were checking your makeup job in the mirror for the fifth time when the bell rang. With a deep sigh, you pulled on your sneakers, slung your purse over your shoulder and headed down the steps. When you opened the door, he was standing with his back to you under a brown blazer and his arms crossed, trying to appear casual for anybody who might be walking by, but when he heard you step through the door he swiveled around quickly.
"Good morning," you said to him with a small smile after you were sure the door was locked tight.
"Mornin'. You ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," you said as he led you to his truck parked a little ways down the street.
"You really didn't have to do this, you know," you said again, glancing around to see if anyone was watching.
"I know," was all he said before opening the passenger door for you and giving you a hand to step up into the cab.
The quick ride to the station was quiet, only the hum from his radio filling the air as your fingers fidgeted in your lap. When he parked the truck and you made a move to open the door, he held a hand out.
"Wait a minute, I gotta talk to you before we go in there."
You dropped your hand to your lap and looked at him expectantly.
"I can't take your statement today, I'm gonna have another officer do it," he said, his words rushed like he knew you wouldn't take the news well. And you didn't.
"What?!" you cried out softly, anxiety already creeping up and squeezing your chest.
"I'm sorry, I can't," he said, taking a deep breath and glancing out the windshield before looking back at you. "There's a conflict of interest. Patrick assaulted me, and if I go and take your statement, it won't look good to a judge."
"Oh my god," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.
"It'll be okay. I'll be right there the whole time. Right on the other side of the glass, okay? I promise, I won't leave."
He watched you for a minute, waiting for you to say something, and when you didn't he began to question himself.
"Unless you don't want me to hear, I don't have to-"
"No, I'd prefer you be there," you said quickly.
He nodded and took a deep breath in.
"I asked a female officer to do it. Her name's Beth. She's real nice, she's dealt with... situations like this in the past."
"Okay," you said softly, reaching for the handle, but once again he stopped you.
"One more thing. I gotta cut him loose tomorrow."
You squeezed your eyes shut. You knew this would happen, but it didn't stop you from feeling the overwhelming sense of dread that crept up your spine.
"It'll be fine. I'll file the restraining order today. If he comes within fifty feet of you, he's goin' right back to jail, okay?" he said, his hand coming up to rest assuringly on your knee.
"Okay," you whispered, finally opening your eyes to look at him.
"You can do this. I know you can."
You had to hold back the tears that sprung up when his words hit your ears. Nobody has ever believed in you, listened to you, took care of you the way he did, and he hardly even knew you. People who have been in your life for years, your own family didn't encourage you the way Joel did. On one hand, it was depressing to realize it took this long for someone to give a shit, but on the other hand, you were so, so relieved someone finally did.
As Joel led you into the station, he kept his head held high, ignoring the glances shot your way and you did your best to do the same. You followed him towards the back, and you hesitated a brief moment before entering the interrogation room, pushing all the bad memories to the back of your mind and focusing on the present.
You needed to put an end to this, once and for all.
You were doing okay. It was half an hour into giving your statement to Beth, and Joel was right. She seemed very kind and patient, and you relaxed after speaking with her for just a few minutes. Or maybe it was because you knew Joel was just a few feet away, watching from the other side of the glass, just like he promised. Whatever it was, you were doing better than you expected.
You had gotten through the bullet points of your history with Patrick. You had detailed how you met after you graduated from high school, how he had just gotten back from basic training with the Marines and was applying to join the Philadelphia police department. You explained how at first, things were great. He was loving and kind, for the most part, but you had been inexperienced and didn't recognize the red flags when you saw them. Like when he got overly possessive at house parties, and especially so when he started drinking. At first, you had thought it was sweet, but then he started getting a little rough. You explained at the time, he would apologize the next day and promise not to do it again, but a few weeks later, he would inevitably go back on his word. The cycle repeated itself over and over for a year, until he proposed one night in front of your entire family, and you had felt pressured to say yes. You had hoped it was just nerves, that eventually you would be excited about marrying him, but it never came. He had rushed you into planning the ceremony and you were only engaged for a few short months. And again, you fooled yourself into thinking everything was just happening so fast, that it was so stressful planning a wedding and that one day, you would be happy.
You couldn't remember the argument that caused him to first hit you. To really hit you, enough to leave a nasty bruise, but you remembered the shock, and you remembered the pain and the fear. And once again, he had apologized the following day, and you forgave him. Because you were weak and scared and confused.
"Did anybody in your life notice?" Beth asked, her eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine concern.
"I hid it at first, but eventually, yes, people noticed," you admitted, fidgeting with the edge of your shirt.
"Did they offer to help you?"
"My cousin," you said, looking down at your hands. "She helped me... she helped me find a clinic so I wouldn't get pregnant."
"Did Patrick know you were on birth control?" Beth asked gently while scratching away with her pen on paper.
"No, I didn't think he would like that."
"Why not?"
"He's made comments to me in the past about wanting a big family, and I was afraid to tell him no. I was afraid he would hurt our children, too," you said, still staring down at your hands.
"Has he raped you?" Beth asked bluntly, and you visibly balked.
"Oh, um," you faltered, the word for whatever reason sending shockwaves through you. You knew the answer, but you just hated admitting it.
"Yes," you finally said, your voice cracking, so you cleared your throat and took a sip of water.
"I'm sorry," Beth said quietly, catching your gaze and giving you a sympathetic look. "I won't ask too much today, but you need to know if this goes to trial, a judge will ask for a lot more detail. You can get a lawyer and they will help walk you through it when the time comes." She reached out across the table to place her hand on top of yours, her thumb rubbing over your knuckles. You nodded, wordlessly telling her to keep going.
"When did it start?"
"Right after we got married, I think."
"How often?" she asked, pulling her hand back so she could focus on writing.
"A few times a week, I guess? I mean, I don't know what counts. A lot of the times I wouldn't be in the mood and he would pressure me, other times were more... deliberate." You swallowed and glanced quickly at the mirror behind Beth, suddenly regretting asking Joel to listen.
"Did you tell your parents?" Beth asked, glancing up at you.
"I told my mom, yes."
"And what did she say?"
"She told me it was a wife's duty to... be available to her husband. She didn't think it was rape." You spit the last word out like it was poison on your tongue. Beth winced but tried to hide it by looking down at her notes.
"And when would he hit you?"
"It varied. Most of the time it was when he was drunk or high. He promised me all the time he would get help, but he never stuck with it."
"Did you ever have to go to the hospital?"
"Yes. A few times. He's broken my arm twice, fractured my hip, and I've had a few concussions. On one occasion, he strangled me until I lost consciousness. I had to be admitted for a bruised trachea." You absentmindedly rubbed your arm and neck as you spoke, your fingers gliding over the old wounds.
"And you've gone to the police before?" she asked.
"Yes, a couple times, but -" you could feel your resolve breaking, and you bit your lower lip to keep it from trembling. "But he always did something to make it go away, and then he would get really mad. One time when I went to file a complaint, he had a cop friend of his lock me in a room just like this one for a whole day. To teach me a lesson." You twirled your finger around the sparse room, tears glistening in your eyes. "They didn't let me out, I couldn't use the bathroom, I didn't have anything to eat or drink. I was all alone."
You stopped talking and tucked your chin against your chest, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. You wiped a shaky palm against your cheek, drying the tears that fell before you looked back up.
"There were times he would be gone for two or three days at a time and come back, all strung out and crazy... those were the times, the times I went to the police, that I ended up in the hospital. So I stopped asking cops for help."
She nodded as she wrote, giving you a minute to collect yourself before her next question. You glanced up at the mirror again and wondered what Joel was thinking. Did he leave? Or was he still there? You almost hoped he had left. You were feeling too vulnerable as it was, but the thought of him looking at you with pity after this was over made your stomach turn.
"I've done this before," you said suddenly, pulling her attention off the page. "And it always ends up the same. Please tell me this will be different."
"It will be different," she said immediately, her jaw set. She put her pen down on her pad and laced her fingers together. "I'm so sorry the justice system as failed you so tremendously, but we will do everything we can for you now that you're here."
You nodded and wiped more of your tears away before she handed you a box of tissues from a small cabinet in the corner of the room. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you met her gaze once again.
"What else?"
"I think that's enough for today," she said, flipping the pages closed on her legal pad. "We got your doctor's report this morning, and combined with this statement we will start the process of formally pressing charges. After that, if he pleads not guilty, it will go before a judge. But let's take it one step at a time, okay?"
"Okay," you said quietly, gathering your purse and following her out of the room. Your eyes immediately drifted around the hallway and then the bullpen, searching for Joel, but he was nowhere to be found. You frowned as Beth led you towards the front lobby, prepared to walk home, when you heard his voice call your name just as you were opening the door.
"I'll take you home," he said. His face looked hardened and his eyes looked distant.
"You don't have to," you began, but he just shook his head and gingerly cupped your elbow, directing you out the door and into the parking lot.
The ride back was silent. He didn't even have the radio on. You glanced out your window nervously, trying not to read too much into it, but when he dropped you off with barely a comforting word or any acknowledgement of what you confessed, you were convinced your greatest fear had come true. Now that he knew it all, now that he finally heard the truth, he couldn't look at you the same.
You were glad Maria had the foresight to tell you to stay home that day. You were mentally exhausted. Rehashing everything and then Joel's reaction put you in an awful mood. By 4pm, after lounging around watching mindless television and checking your phone constantly for any sign of life from Joel, you decided to just make yourself an early dinner, take a shower and then go to bed early.
As you were stepping out of the shower, the water finally turned off and all of the day's makeup covering your wounds down the drain, you heard your doorbell ringing incessantly. Repeatedly. Urgently.
A jolt of dread shot down your spine, but you remembered Joel said Patrick wouldn't be let out until tomorrow. But what if he got out early? What if he made a phone call and Joel was forced to release him?
Wrapped in a robe, your hair dripping down and soaking the thin material, you jogged to the living room and checked your phone. Surely, if Patrick was released, Joel would have warned you, but you didn't have any missed calls or texts. Then the pounding on the door started, making you jump out of your skin.
Slowly, you crept down the stairs, your hand gripping the doorknob tightly, your fingers hovering over the lock.
"Who is it?"
"It's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side, and your eyes widened in shock. You glanced down at your robe, little streaks and drops of wetness trailing down the shiny material.
"Uh, can you -"
"Please open up, people are startin' to look at me like I'm crazy."
With a sigh, you unlocked the door and stepped back, clutching your robe tightly against your chest. Joel squeezed inside and shut the door quickly behind him before turning around, his eyes raking quickly up and down your body before looking you in the eye.
"You were in the shower."
"Yeah," you said, glancing around anxiously before looking up the stairs. "Did you want to come up or something?" He just nodded slowly, his eyes flitting down once again as you led him up the steps.
"I got worried, I was ringin' the bell but I guess you couldn't hear it," he explained, taking off his shoes and shrugging off his blazer.
"What were you worried about? He's still in jail, right?" you asked, handing him some water before sitting down on the couch.
"Yeah, I just... I shouldn'tve left you alone earlier. I shoulda stayed." He stood there, a glass of water in his hand, the other rubbing over his mouth nervously.
You stared at one another for a moment, both trying to figure the other one out. He was breathing faster than normal, his chest rising and falling rapidly under his white button down shirt.
"Why are you here, Joel?" you finally asked, your heart starting to beat faster. "Because if it's out of pity, I don't want it."
"It's not -" he cut himself off and shifted his weight before setting the water down. "It's not pity." He took two steps and sunk down into your couch, his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, trying to figure out what to say.
"It's not fair," he finally said quietly. So quietly, you almost didn't hear him. "Everything that's happened. It's not fuckin' fair."
You scrunched your nose, confused, as you looked at him still staring down at the floor. You were about to open your mouth and ask him what he meant when he spoke again.
"I never shoulda let you leave with him that day. Somethin' felt off, I felt it in my gut-" he sat back to press his hand against his stomach for emphasis. "But I let you go. And he -"
He couldn't finish his sentence, his throat closing up as he fought to blink the tears away.
"It's not your fault, Joel," you told him, resting a hand on his broad shoulder but he stood up quickly to pace around the room.
"I'll never let it happen again," he muttered. "Never gonna let him near you again. I'll fuckin' kill him if I have to, he's never comin' here again." His voice was rising as he spoke, his breath coming in short stutters as he rubbed his forehead with the pads of his fingers, eyes wide and crazed as the panic seized him.
So it wasn't pity. It was guilt that brought him to you.
"Joel, calm down," you said, standing up to reach out to him, but he kept pacing.
"Oh fuck, I'm never gonna forgive myself," he whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.
"You didn't do this to me, he did," you assured him, trying to get him to stop moving. "You're helping me, Joel. You're the only one who ever really tried to help me. There's nothing to forgive."
He finally paused and glanced at you, his breath a little shallow as the panic began to subside.
"I'm gonna get you outta this, I promise," he said, his voice sounding more steady.
"I know," you replied, nodding your head.
He took a deep breath in through his nose and tore his eyes away from you to glance at his watch.
"I better go," he said regrettably, looking back up at you again.
"Okay," you said, following him to the door and leaning against the wall as he put his shoes back on.
"D'you need anythin'? Did you eat? I can -"
"I ate, I'm fine," you told him with a small smile. "Thank you, though."
"Alright," he said after a moment, then forced himself to open the door. Before he stepped through, he looked back at you over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'm working dinner tomorrow," you told him, suddenly feeling crestfallen you wouldn't see him for lunch.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he repeated, more firm this time. You slowly nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping he couldn't see through your robe.
You listened sadly as his heavy footsteps descended the stairs and the door shut softly behind him. You knew him well enough at this point that he would have turned the lock on the knob before he left but you still wanted to peek down the steps to check. Your eyes widened when, to your surprise, he was still standing there at the bottom of your stairs, his back leaning up against the door. His eyes flicked up to meet yours when he noticed movement, and you saw Adam’s apple bob in his throat before he spoke.
"I can't leave."
You looked at one another for a long moment, your heart slamming in your chest, knowing what this meant. You were sick and tired of always trying to do the right thing. Where did it get you? How could you even fool yourself into thinking you had any obligation to Patrick anymore? Joel knew everything now. He knew what he was doing, so you said the words that were on the tip of your tongue. The words that you knew would open the door for something both of you wanted so desperately, you could taste it.
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"So you see why it's so important you keep on top of your oil changes, yeah?" Mr. Connor finished saying as you set down his plate of waffles and sausage. You nodded enthusiastically while you filled up his coffee.
"I was never really any good at car stuff," you admitted, but he shook his head.
"If you take care of it, that car'll last you five more years and save you boatloads of money," he told you, wagging his finger. "You come by my shop any time and I'll take a look at that beater you're drivin', won't rip you off, either."
You laughed as you heard the bells above the door ring and Maria greet the next customer.
"I'll hold you to it," you said with a wink before turning to put the coffee back on the burner.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the familiar outline of a man settle into Joel's usual seat at the counter, and you felt the butterflies stir up in your stomach. You glanced up to make sure there wasn't any food getting cold in the window before pulling out your notepad and walking over. As you approached, you mentally braced yourself for the onslaught of his cologne, but as you got closer, you couldn't smell it. In fact, all you could smell was soap and maybe a faint hint of oil from his gun.
When you paused in front of him, the realization dawning on you, he glanced up from the menu with a smirk. A slow smile spread across your face when you looked him in the eye.
"Better?" was all he said, and you couldn't stop the giggle from escaping your lips.
"You didn't have to do that for me," you said, suddenly feeling bashful and looking down at your blank notepad.
"I know, but I wanted to," he said, leaning back and closing the menu. He didn't even know why he looked at it anymore, he knew it by heart already. "Thought maybe it'd make you stick around long enough for me to get to know you better."
You definitely felt your cheeks flare at that comment, and it must have been visible because Joel just grinned, clearly very pleased with himself.
"Where are you from?" he asked, determined to try to make some more progress with you today.
"Pennsylvania," you said, finally looking back up at him with a smile as you tapped your pen on the pad.
"Northerner," he said with feigned disgust. "And what brought you all the way to Texas?"
"The incredible job opportunity, isn't it obvious?" you said, and he laughed. A real laugh, one you hadn't heard before, and it did something to you. Uh oh.
"You're funny," Joel said, almost as if he were saying it to himself. You grinned and decided to steer the conversation in a different direction: away from you.
"What about you? Have you lived here your whole life?"
"Born and raised," Joel said with a nod. "Our pop used to be the town sheriff, before he passed 'bout ten years back or so."
"So, you followed in your father's footsteps?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Suppose I did," he told you, leaning forward. "But can I tell you a secret?"
You hummed and leaned forward as well, trying to bite back your smirk.
"Kinda wishin' now I was the one who bought this place instead of my brother," he said quietly and so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.
Still leaning in, you dropped your voice to match his and said "then who would stop those teenagers from drawing phallic images on street signs?"
He laughed again, the same deep, throaty laugh as before, and you felt your stomach clench at the sound.
"You heard that, huh?" he asked, smiling and leaning back. You shrugged.
"Lee isn't as quiet as he thinks," you told him. You wanted to say you had to learn early on to eavesdrop, that listening and anticipating danger became second nature to you, but you caught yourself.
"Howdy, brother," you heard Tommy's voice boom from somewhere behind you. You took the opportunity to sneak away and check on your other customers while they talked, but you made sure to set Joel up with coffee before heading towards the other end of the counter, his eyes trailing after you and staring a moment too long on your bare legs.
"You givin' her the business?" Tommy asked, nodding in your direction, and Joel nearly choked on his coffee. Tommy raised his eyebrows.
"She's, uh... she's a nice girl," Joel finally managed to get out after wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"He's got the hots for her," Betty whispered to Tommy as she ambled by. Joel cleared his throat loudly and gave her a stern look, but she just laughed and kept walking.
"Oh, Joel, I'm beggin' you, don't screw this up for me. She's a real good waitress, I don't wanna lose her - "
"Would you keep it down?" Joel whispered, his eyes darting around to make sure you weren't within earshot. "I ain't gonna screw anythin' up for anyone, don't worry. She's just... nice."
"'Nice'," Tommy repeated, clearly not buying it. He was about to say more, but Joel straightened up in his seat and averted his gaze, trying to wordlessly warn him you were heading over.
"Sorry to interrupt. Are you ready, Joel?" you asked him, your pen and paper in hand. He looked up at you and it was hard to fight the goofy look on his face now that you didn't regard him with such disdain.
"Yeah, sure. Let's put this guy to work, huh?" Joel said, pointing to Tommy, and you giggled. Behind you, Tommy rolled his eyes. Nice.
Joel told himself he was only allowed to think about you on his walk back to the station after lunch. You had told Betty you weren't interested in dating anybody at the moment, but he could wait. He wondered if he could change your mind, if he could make you come around to the idea of being with him, or at least give him a chance. You definitely seemed much warmer towards him today. He must have been wrong yesterday, you really must be sensitive to smells if all it took was for him to stop using that obnoxious cologne Sarah got him that he felt too guilty to throw away.
"Hey boss, how was lunch?" asked Bobby, the town's deputy and Joel's right hand man.
"Good. Anythin' goin' on here?" Joel asked, shrugging off his blazer and hanging it on the coat rack outside his office.
"Not much. I was 'bout to let Ollie outta the drunk tank. His wife was callin', askin' after him," Bobby said before rising to his feet with a groan. Although the man was ten years younger than Joel, his joints seemed to be ten years older.
Joel glanced at the time on his watch with a nod.
"Yeah, go ahead. Third time this month, though. Next time it happens, I'm keepin' him longer."
"Alrighty," Bobby said over his shoulder as he pulled the keys from his pocket and headed back towards lockup.
Joel sighed and began flipping through the papers littering his desk before giving up and leaning back in his chair to stare out the front window, watching people as they walked past. Before he could stop himself, his mind had already wandered back to thoughts of you, and it took him five whole minutes and Ollie's hungover ramblings to snap him out of it.
Maybe Sarah would want to get pizza for dinner.
It was nearly seven at night as you made your way back home from work, your feet aching and your head throbbing. At the very least, it was a cool, summer night. The breeze was enjoyable and the sun was still peeking out just enough to keep your skin pleasantly warm. All you could think about was getting home and running a bath to soak your sore muscles. It had been a long time since you held a job, let alone a job that kept you as active as this one.
Patrick didn't like the idea of you working. When he first suggested you quit your job and stay at home, you thought it was sweet. You took it to mean he wanted to provide for you so you could relax and be a homemaker, maybe even a mom one day. But after a few months, you quickly realized he just didn't want you around other people, or more specifically, other men. Without even knowing it, you trapped yourself at home without a lifeline, and it was exactly what he wanted.
Even though you were sore now, you felt good. You were taking care of yourself. Providing for yourself. And you never felt more proud.
You were juggling your keys, trying to find the right one that opened the door to the sidewalk, when you heard a familiar voice exit the pizza place.
"Well, look who it is," you heard Joel say, and you let the keys dangle at your side as you turned around with a smile.
"Evening, Joel," you replied, your eyes quickly drifting down his body. It was the first time you had seen him in casual clothes. Every other time you ran into him, he was in his work uniform, which usually consisted of some type of suit. But tonight, he was wearing dark blue jeans and a beige button up shirt with short sleeves. As he strolled over to you, balancing a pizza box in his hand, your eyes were immediately drawn to the way the muscles in his arms strained against the fabric of the shirt, making your mouth go dry.
"Tommy finally let you leave, huh?" he joked, and you had to remind yourself to laugh, your mind still too fixated on the way he looked in that shirt.
"Dad?" you heard a girl's voice call behind him, and you both turned your attention towards the voice. You remembered your brief interaction at the pharmacy and realized that she must be Sarah. Her eyes flickered from you to Joel, then back to you, clearly waiting for Joel to introduce you, but he seemed frozen in place. So, you stretched out your arm and introduced yourself with a smile, which she reciprocated.
"You look familiar," she said, tilting her head to the side the same way her dad did.
"I think I saw you at the pharmacy a couple days ago," you reminded her, and she snapped her fingers.
"That's what it is," she said, giving you another smile. "Are you working for Uncle Tommy?" she asked, looking at Joel again, who was still standing there, unmoving, watching the two of you interact. She frowned slightly at him, picking up on his strange reaction as well, before giving you her attention again.
"Yeah, at the diner. He hired me earlier this week, brand new," you told her, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Joel's silence was deafening at this point and starting to make you uncomfortable, so you held up your keys and pointed to the door.
"I won't keep you guys. It was great to meet you, Sarah," you said with a wave, but before you could turn towards the door, she stopped you.
"Why don't you join us?" she asked, shooting Joel a mischievous look as if she finally realized the reason for his behavior.
"Oh, no, that's so nice of you, but I'm just gonna jump in the bath and go to bed, it's been a long day," you replied. Joel's body stiffened next to you when you announced your plans.
Finally, he managed to clear his throat and speak.
"We'd love to have you join us, we were just gonna grab a picnic table out back," he said, and you swore his cheeks looked a little pinker than usual.
You were struggling to find another polite way to turn down their offer when he added "c'mon, why don't you lemme serve you for a change?"
Sarah smiled as she watched the two of you. She couldn't wait to tease her dad about it in the car later.
"Alright," you said slowly, lowering your keys once again. Joel's face broke out in a huge grin before leading you and Sarah down the short alley to the small courtyard behind the building, where there were a few picnic tables and string lights draped overhead.
"Are you sure I'm not intruding?" you asked again, and they both vehemently shook their heads.
"No way," Sarah said, licking the sauce off her fingers after she picked up her piece from the box. "It's nice to have another girl around for a change."
"Sarah," Joel said warningly under his breath.
"I just mean it's nice to hear about something else other than work and football," she said to him with a grin, and he rolled his eyes, choosing to sit on your side of the table instead of hers.
"So, you live above the pizza place? That seems pretty cool. Pizza whenever you want," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke. You swallowed your food before responding.
"Yeah, it is pretty convenient. And they actually have good pizza," you said. "I think I'm finally getting used to the smell."
Joel's knee accidentally knock against yours under the table and you had to fight the urge to jump away, the contact startling you.
Sarah asked the same questions everyone in this small town inevitably asked you when you first met: where are you from and why are you here? The first question was easy, the second one always gave you pause. It wasn't until Sarah asked that Joel suddenly realized you never really answered him when he asked the same question earlier that day, so he stopped chewing to pay attention.
"Just looking for a change," you said with a shrug, taking another bite of pizza. Sarah considered your answer for a moment before following up.
"Have you ever been here before?"
"Nope."
"So you just got in your car and ... drove?"
"Kind of," you said with a nervous laugh. Joel frowned slightly.
"That's so cool," Sarah said, a smile stretching across her face. "Dad, doesn't that sound so cool?"
"Yeah," he said with a nod, finally joining the conversation. "Do you got family down south or anythin'?"
"Uh, no," you said, shaking your head. "Just always heard it was nice down here so I thought I would see for myself."
"You think you're here for good, then?" he asked, his voice a little more hopeful than he wanted to come across.
"That's the plan," you said to him with a smile.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Sarah asked out of the blue, and your eyes darted back to her in surprise.
"No," you replied slowly, heat creeping up your neck and guilt dancing in the back of your head while Joel hid his grin behind his pizza. "Do you?" you deflected, raising your eyebrows at her with a smirk, and she giggled, shaking her head.
"You better not," Joel said, and the two of you laughed.
Over the rest of the hour, you listened to Joel and Sarah crack jokes and argue over what movie they would end up watching later that night and you felt the smile slowly begin to slip from your face as you came to the sobering realization that the type of dynamic they had, one that was so obviously built on love and trust, was something you never truly experienced before. It wasn't just something you saw in the movies or read in books. People in the real world actually got to experience it, and you couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Why not you? What did you ever do to receive the type of life you got?
After parting ways and thanking them over and over for dinner, you finally headed upstairs and collapsed on your small sofa. You untucked your work shirt and unzipped your skirt, but that was as far as you got, exhaustion winning the fight.
You closed your eyes and wished you had the energy to get up and run a bath, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it yet. Instead, you let your mind wander, imagining a life where you could call out to someone who cared for you in the other room and ask them to run the water. Maybe they would surprise you and light a few candles and mix in some soothing bubble bath. You knew that would never happen. You could never let yourself be honest enough with anybody to allow them into your life, but it didn't stop you from wishing for it, anyway. And right before you drifted off to sleep, you imagined that certain somebody had dark brown eyes and soft curls on the top of his head that you were itching to run your fingers through.
As hard as you tried to keep to yourself, the town was very small, and eventually you found it was nearly impossible to keep from making connections with people. Whether it was through work at the diner or striking up a conversation with someone at the store, you were quickly becoming interwoven in the lives of the people who graciously accepted you as one of their own.
You were particularly becoming fast friends with the girl who worked the register at the pizzeria below your apartment. Her name was Hailey and she was a couple years younger than you, but you had a lot in common, one of which was a shared taste in the same movies and books, so you were excited when she invited you to join a book club she and a couple other women in town started. As much as you enjoyed talking about books, you found you also very much enjoyed listening to all the town gossip that inevitably came out after everyone had their first glass of wine.
"So, Nikki, did I hear Sam asked you out on a date?" an older woman named Martha asked. Nikki blushed when the group turned to her, some women poking her in the side and others murmuring excitedly under their breath.
"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," Nikki said, flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulder. She looked to be a little older than you were but it was hard to guess her age.
"Not back in town for two weeks and she's already got a date," Hailey said, rolling her eyes next to you playfully. "Some girls got all the luck."
"Oh, stop it," she chided with a smirk, then paused as if she were rethinking her next statement before blurting out "kind of wish someone else woulda asked me out instead."
That got the whole group's attention, even your own, and you barely had any idea who most of these people were. But you supposed any amount of gossip paired with alcohol is good gossip.
"Oh, please, you don't gotta say it, we all know who you've been chasin' after all these years," another woman chimed in with a giggle. Fortunately, you weren't the only person in the dark.
"Who?" Hailey asked, leaning forward eagerly.
"Joel, obviously," the other woman replied, and while the rest of the group groaned, everyone tossing in their two cents and offering up their favorite things about him, you remained frozen in your chair, blood running cold.
"Lord, he came into school last week to pick up Sarah, and the way his ass looked in those jeans..."
"Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly slipped on the ice and he caught me? Had to go to confession the next day..."
"... and I swear, I've considered committing a crime just so he would throw those handcuffs on me..."
"I don't know how that man has been single for so long..."
Part of you wanted to laugh at some of the things the women were saying about Joel, but the other part of you felt hot and angry. You wanted to scream shut up, don't think about him like that, don't even look at him. And through your alcoholic haze, you realized you were jealous. Jealous of all of these women, young and old, barking out comments about the town sheriff you had no business feeling jealous over.
The next day when he came into the diner for lunch, your head was still swirling with all of the comments the women in town made the day before. Distracted, you dropped your pen and pad on the ground as you made your way over to greet him, cursing under your breath.
Joel grinned when you finally approached, looking every bit as frazzled as you felt.
"Tough day?"
"Huh? Oh," you said nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear and shaking your head. "N-no, not really. Well, maybe - shit," you said when you knocked over a box of straws with your fidgeting.
Joel laughed and leaned back in his chair.
"What's got you all worked up?" he asked, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"Nothing," you said, shaking your head again, trying to focus. "What can I get for you?"
"Nuh uh, darlin', not so fast," he said with a tsk, and you sighed. "What's goin' on? You can tell me, y'know. I am a man of the law."
He meant it to be playful, but with your history, it had the opposite effect. You winced and swallowed the lump in your throat, and trying not to make matters worse, you caved.
"I went to a book club last night," you mumbled, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Book club, huh? Sounds like fun," he said, watching you carefully. "Maybe had a little too much fun?"
You finally dragged your gaze up to meet his and saw he was grinning at you, and you managed to force out a small laugh.
"Yeah, you could say that," you said, hoping that would be enough, but he wouldn't let it go.
"Can you get me a coffee? Then when I get back from the restroom, I wanna hear all 'bout your little book club," he said with a wink, then stood from his chair and turned around, heading towards the bathrooms while your gaze landed on his ass. It didn't look too bad in dress pants, either.
You tried to steady your breathing while you flipped over a clean mug and filled it with coffee, your mind racing and wondering what lies you could come up with to prevent telling him the reason you were so distracted.
Lost in thought with your head down, you didn't even notice when another customer took a seat at the counter until the man cleared his throat. You glanced up and apologized before bending down to grab another mug and set it down in front of the stranger.
You were pouring his coffee and telling him about the specials, your eyes glued to the counter, when he slid the barrel of a pistol across the table and into your line of sight. You froze, your hands gripping the coffee pot fiercely as you broke out into a cold sweat. You flicked your eyes back up to him. He didn't appear to be much older than you. He had his unkept hair hidden underneath his black hoodie, and you noticed his eyes looked bloodshot, his skin clammy. You knew that look. You've seen that same look one too many times.
"What do you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking.
"Open the register, gimme all the cash in this bag," he said quietly, tossing a tote bag across the counter at you. You nodded, grabbing the bag while your fingers fumbled with the buttons, desperately trying to remember how to open the drawer without a sale. You could sense he was growing frustrated with how long it was taking, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes.
"I'm sorry," you sobbed quietly. "I-I'm new, I can't remember-"
"Hurry the fuck up," he growled, and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision, the tears falling down your cheeks.
"Drop the fuckin' gun, Marcus," you heard Joel's voice call out, and a wave of relief coursed through your body. But Marcus got startled, and instead of doing as he was told, reached across the counter and grabbed you by the throat, pulling you against his chest to partially shield his body, the gun pressed against your temple as your fingers clawed at his arms.
You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe. Tears just streamed down your face as you locked eyes with Joel. They no longer carried that playful glint, his lips no longer turned up into a grin. His brow was furrowed deep and his gun drawn, cradled expertly in his large palms as his eyes shifted back to Marcus.
"I'm not lookin' to hurt anyone, sheriff. Just lemme walk outta here," Marcus rumbled behind you, his sour breath invading your nostrils and making your stomach roll.
"Now, you know I can't do that," Joel said, taking a small step forward. "But put down the gun, let her go, and we'll talk."
The grip around your throat tightened and you let out a small, pained squeak. Joel's jaw clenched when he heard the noise, his patience running thin. You hadn't noticed at the time, but the entire diner had gone quiet, some patrons slinking down in their seats, others craning their necks to get a better look.
"Goddamnit, Marcus, don't test me today," Joel growled, his eyes ablaze. "I don't wanna call your mama and tell her I had to spray her only son's brains all over the floor, but I fuckin' will." The tone in Joel's voice sent a shiver down your spine as you stilled, waiting for the stand off to be over.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the grip on your throat loosened and you no longer felt the cold metal pressed against your head. Joel locked eyes with you again as you coughed and shakily fell down to the floor behind the counter, curling yourself into a ball while you heard Joel reading Marcus his rights, the jingle of his handcuffs rang like bells in your ears.
Once Marcus was restrained, you heard Tommy bolt out of the kitchen and rush over to you. He knelt down on the ground, asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor, concern lacing his voice but when he reached out to touch you, you flung yourself backwards violently, knocking the back of your head against the counter.
"Shit," you muttered, rubbing your head as fresh tears fell down your cheeks.
"Hey, easy now," Tommy said soothingly, glancing over the counter as Joel spoke on the phone with Bobby, ordering him to bring a car to take Marcus back to the station and book him.
"I'm fine," you whimpered, still rubbing your head as you shakily forced yourself to your feet. You watched as Joel marched Marcus to the front of the diner, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping his shoulder as he directed him through the door. A few patrons clapped weakly as the two disappeared outside, and the diner filled with excited chatter once again.
"You alright, sugar?" Betty asked, suddenly appearing beside you, face etched with worry. You flinched and brought a shaky hand to your sore neck.
"Yeah, I just need to use the restroom," you said, and before anyone could say anything further, you tore off your apron and made a beeline for the women's room.
You locked the door behind you and slid down to the grimy floor, burying your face in your hands as you sobbed, the adrenaline wreaking havoc on your nerves.
It was too much. It was all too much. The look in Marcus's eye was one you saw too many times. A junkie in desperate need for a fix. A drunk who would say or do anything for another drink. The fingers around your neck were no longer there, but you still felt them squeezing every last bit of oxygen from your lungs, every tear from your eye until you could hardly breathe.
The door handle jiggled and you jumped, wiping furiously at your face before shouting out a shaky occupied!
"Hey, it's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side of the door. No longer did he have that hardened edge to his tone. The warmth and softness in his drawl had returned.
"I just need a minute," you said quietly after a long silence, and you heard him shift his weight.
"I know, but I - can you let me in?" he asked, and you could hear the concern in his voice. You slid your eyes shut as fresh tears drenched your face once again. You ached for comfort. You wanted it so badly you would do just about anything for it. But every other time, you've been let down. Over and over and over again.
"I just need a minute," you repeated, just a whisper, not even sure he could hear.
"Then I'll be right here til you're ready, alright?" his voice came back, even softer this time. You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. You heard him sit down against the door with a tired sigh, and you let your head tilt so it rested against the door. There was a small bit of comfort to be had when you knew only an inch separated you from him.
"You were real brave," he said after a few minutes of silence. You scoffed and wiped your nose.
"Is that why I'm crying on the floor of a bathroom?"
"Please don't cry," he said, his voice strained. But you didn't say anything in return.
"He wasn't gonna do nothin'. He's got troubles, is all. Bad habits get the best of him, but he's harmless," he said, trying to make you feel better.
"I don't know, these bruises on my neck say differently," you replied, and you heard his breath hitch. Then you heard his shoes scuff on the tile floor.
"Lemme see," he said, his voice firmer now. He was standing, his voice above you, waiting to be let in. You hesitated, the tone of his voice putting you on edge, but you knew you couldn't hide in there forever. With a trembling hand, you reached up and unlocked the door, then scurried backwards so you were pressed up against the opposite wall as he swung the door open and stepped inside. His gaze fell on you and his eyes went soft at seeing your wrecked state before clicking the door shut behind him.
He rushed forward and you flinched. A bad habit of your own. He paused and slowed his movements, crouching down in front of you instead. He lifted a hand to pinch your chin but you turned your face away.
"Will you show me?" he asked gently. You gazed up at him with red rimmed eyes, your knees pulled tight against your chest. Finally, you lifted your chin. Again, he reached a hand out, but you stopped him.
"Please don't touch," you whispered. He looked at you and nodded slowly, dropping his hand again, examining your bruises with only his eyes.
"Maybe you should see a doctor," he said after a few minutes, but you shook your head.
"I'll be fine, it's just sore," you said, and his gaze flicked up from your throat to your eyes. His lips parted the longer he stared at you, and you felt the tremor return to your hands. You couldn't look away, his gaze too magnetic.
"Don't like seein' you cry," he murmured, still gazing deep into your eyes, trying so desperately to read you.
"I cry all the time," you said without even thinking. He blinked and frowned. He was about to say something else when a gentle knock on the door interrupted him.
"You okay in there?" Maria called out. You sighed and stretched out your legs, standing up and waving off Joel's helping hand.
"We don't gotta do it today, but I'll need you to come by and give your statement sometime soon," he said, glancing down at you with a sympathetic look.
"Okay," you replied, your voice cracking a bit. You looked at one another, both of you wanting to say more but neither of you could. So you reached out to open the door, forcing a smile for Maria.
"Sorry," you told her meekly, and she laughed.
"You're sorry? You just had a gun pointed at your head and you're sorry?"
You laughed weakly, then stopped short in pain, your fingers brushing against your throat.
"I just wanted to bring you your purse so you could sneak out the back," she said, lifting your purse up and handing it over to you.
"But my shift-"
"Oh my god, take the day off," Maria said, shaking her head and grinning. "Think you earned it."
"Okay," you agreed, then turned to walk through the kitchen where you could leave out the back so no customers would gawk at you.
"Lemme walk you home," Joel's voice said, startling you. You had just assumed he went back out front.
"Don't you have to, you know... work?" you asked, floundering for the right word.
"He ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he walked by your side down the sidewalk.
The two of you walked quietly for a few minutes.
"I've never seen you like that before," you said, breaking the silence. He turned his head towards you, raising his eyebrows.
"Like what?"
"Like, all... cop-like," you said, chuckling at your terrible choice in words.
Joel grinned and glanced down at his feet.
"Yeah, well, job's not all inappropriate graffiti and speed traps."
You hummed in agreement as you kept walking.
"Do you have to unholster your service weapon often?"
"'Service weapon'?" he repeated, surprised at the term you chose. Although it wasn't wrong, it typically was not something most people said. You just looked at him, not acknowledging it, so he let it go.
"Uh, no, not really," he said, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Oh," was all you said, taking a deep breath and continued to stare straight ahead. He watched you from the corner of his eye for a moment.
"When I came outta the bathroom and saw - " he stopped short, then rubbed his lower lip with the pad of his thumb as he collected his thoughts. "You were scared. And I... reacted."
You glanced his way again, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. What was he trying to say?
"Thank you," you said softly, but he was quick to shake his head.
"Not lookin' for you to thank me," he said, finally allowing his gaze to drift back to you, giving you a small smile.
When you finally reached your apartment, you took out your keys and turned to him, ready to thank him again, even though he told you not to, but he spoke first.
"Here, why don't you take this," he said, holding out a small white card between his index and middle finger. You gingerly took it and flipped it over, reading the text on the other side.
"It's my card. Call me when you wanna stop by the station," he reminded you, and you nodded.
"My cell's on there, too. If you ever, y'know," he said, half a smirk playing on his lips as he nervously shifted his weight. "You ever wanna talk 'bout anythin', really. 'Bout what happened today, or... book club," he said, and you laughed. He grinned, relieved to finally see you smile again.
"Okay," you said with a nod, and turned to put the key in the lock.
He watched as you made your way all the way up the steps, and didn't leave until he saw the second door at the top of the stairs close firmly behind you.
Chapter Summary: Maria organizes a getaway to Lake Travis for a long weekend. You invite your new boyfriend, but things quickly deteriorate, leaving Joel to help you pick up the pieces.
Chapter Warnings: language, smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, flirting, sexual tension, jealousy, mutual pining, smut (18+ MDNI), semi-pubic sex, fingering, hand job, description of a panic attack, heartbreak, food consumption, golf
WC: 8.4K
Series Masterlist
Charlie was cute.
Well, cute didn't seem like the right word, and handsome sounded too stiff. But he was both those things and more. You discovered he was also very dapper when you met him for lunch one day during work. He wore a perfectly tailored dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt. One button was left open at the top, revealing a sliver of his tanned skin underneath. You almost felt out of place wearing what you thought was one of your nicer dresses when he took you to some steakhouse you never heard of that didn't have the prices on the menu and you began to wonder how he didn't own a home yet since he appeared so successful.
"I never have the time to look, to be honest," he told you with a shrug. "Work keeps me busy during the week, and even some weekends. Then between grocery shopping and laundry and occasionally going to parties and meeting super pretty girls," he smiled with a wink and you giggled, "I just never find the time to house hunt."
"I guess I got lucky with Maria doing all the heavy lifting for me," you joked as you picked at the remains of your salad.
"Yeah, and she did a great job. It's a good starter house," he said with a nod before checking his phone.
"Mm, I don't know about starter. She was hoping to raise a family in that neighborhood one day. She really likes the schools."
Charlie made a little noise and you glanced up. "What?" you asked with a small smile.
"Nothing, it's nothing," Charlie said, setting his phone back down on the table. When you tilted your head and gave him a look, he sighed. "It's a fine area of town, I just personally would prefer to raise a family elsewhere."
"Oh, yeah? Like where?"
"Barton Creek would be great," he said, and you nearly choked on your drink.
"Barton Creek? That's like, so expensive," you laughed but his mouth didn't twitch. Your smile slowly fell and you said, "are you serious?"
"Of course I'm serious. You wouldn't want to live there?"
You huffed and sat back in your chair. "Yeah, sure, in my dreams. But I could never afford something like that."
Charlie leaned forward and took your hand. "But one day, maybe you could. If you go back to school at night and really apply yourself, it would only take a few years-"
"I told you I'm not interested in becoming a lawyer," you said, smiling up as the waiter cleared your plates. "I'm happy doing what I'm doing right now."
"Well, I'm just saying. You're young, there's options out there. You should really give it some thought."
At the time, you thought Charlie was being sweet and encouraging by trying to help you reach your full potential, but you would later discover you were wrong.
"I want to get out of town for a bit," Maria said at family dinner one night. You all looked up at her, bracing yourselves for whatever she had already planned in her head. "What do you think about renting a spot on Lake Travis?"
She immediately clocked the table's hesitation. "Just a long weekend. Four days on the lake, get out of this heat and on the water. Doesn't that sound nice?"
"When?" Tommy asked, and Maria knew instantly she had won.
She gave him a few different options while he scrolled the calendar in his phone to look at his work schedule. Weekends were hard for Tommy and hit or miss with Joel, so she knew it would be a tough sell.
Tommy picked a weekend and Maria's eyes lit up. Joel was about to decline when you piped up and agreed to go and suddenly, he couldn't resist.
"Amazing!" Maria said, clapping her hands giddily. She picked up her phone and began to look at availability for lodging. "You can invite Charlie, too, of course," she added without looking up.
"Oh, right," you said, feeling stupid for not even considering him. "Yeah, let me see if he's free."
Joel's heart sank and he looked down at his food, pushing the pasta around on his plate while you texted that guy you've been seeing, completely unaware that it was tearing him up inside. He tried to not let it bother him and he thought he was doing a really good job so far, but he wasn't sure how he would be able to handle four days in the same house, watching him touch you and kiss you and make you laugh. All the things he wanted to be doing, and more, but couldn't.
"He can come for Saturday and Sunday but he has to work Friday and Monday," you announced. Okay, so two days of watching another man touch what should be his.
Maria spent the rest of the night planning the trip while Joel bit his tongue. Why couldn't Charlie take off work a month in advance? he wanted to ask. Doesn't he want to spend time with you?
But of course, he didn't say a word. He and Tommy listened as the two of you researched activities, restaurants and bars in the area and planned out the weekend, making sure to carve out enough time to relax on the beach because you knew that's what he and Tommy really wanted to do. Fuck, he couldn't wait to see you in a bikini.
"Aren't you excited?" you asked him when Tommy and Maria headed up to bed.
"'Course I am."
"You don't seem like it. I thought this would be right up your alley."
"Oh, yeah?" he asked, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "Why's that?"
You grinned and settled back into the couch. "Girls on the beach, obviously. Dripping wet from the water or sweating from the heat. I thought you would be more excited."
"I am," he said, leaving out that he was excited to see you dripping wet from the water or sweat. You hummed and stretched out your legs on the couch.
"Feel like watching a movie?" you asked, and he quickly nodded.
He knew it was pathetic but he couldn't help it. Any amount of time you wanted to spend with him alone, he would take. And when you curled up under a blanket and shoved your feet underneath his thigh while you watched the TV, it took everything in him not to pull you into his lap and press his lips against yours.
Because you were spoken for. And that would be wrong.
It was so fucking hot.
The day you left for the lake, the temperature was close to record breaking and all of you had to admit once you were in the comfort of the air conditioned truck that Maria's plan to get out of town was truly inspired. And once you arrived at the house you rented, you had to give Maria even more credit because the place was stunning.
It was a two story cabin with four bedrooms, a spacious living area and a kitchen behind it. The walls were all made of wood, stained a dark cherry for ambiance while the house sat a mere ten minute walk to the beach.
"Oh my god, this place is so cool," you said softly as you walked around the upper level, checking out each bedroom. It was hard to choose, they were all equally beautiful and had great views of the small forest around you, so you didn't mind when Tommy and Maria picked the master suite. Each room had its own charm.
The first evening you were there, you decided to go to dinner and then hit up a bar nearby, just the four of you. Charlie had planned on arriving sometime the next morning and then you would head to the beach, where you would spend a majority of the day getting tan and drinking whatever was coldest from the cooler you brought from home.
"Okay, do not even start that shit with me, Joel! You know I have a fear of heights! I'm not going anywhere near that fucking thing!"
He laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you walked down the boardwalk behind Tommy and Maria.
"It ain't even that high! It's just a goddamn ferris wheel!"
"I don't care, I'm not going on it. You guys can go and have a lovely time. I will stay down here, safe on the ground where I can't plummet to my death."
"C'mon, now. You know I won't let anythin' bad happen to you," Joel said, his voice dropping an octave lower as he pulled you in closer, the alcohol coursing through both your veins began to call the shots when you leaned into his hold.
"And what are you gonna do, Joel, if the thing breaks and I'm stuck up there? Do you have some superpowers I'm not aware of?"
"No, I think you're aware of all my superpowers," he teased, making you blush and shove him away with a laugh. "But I know I could distract you. Help keep your mind off it til help arrives."
You stumbled a bit as you laughed harder, Tommy and Maria leaving you behind when they spotted an ice cream stand.
"Yeah, I bet you would. Telling me shitty jokes or more stories of how you tormented Tommy on the school bus?"
Joel grinned and grabbed your hand, yanking you into him again as you continued to walk past various bars and restaurants packed with tourists.
"Both would work, I'm sure of it, but I had somethin' else in mind," he said without thinking, getting too carried away in the moment. It felt too good, it felt so natural as you walked with your fingers linked together around your shoulders and your head leaning against the side of his chest.
"Oh yeah? Like what?" you giggled, then hiccuped, then giggled again. Why did you have to be so fucking cute?
He opened his mouth to say something he would probably regret in the morning, then bit his tongue when you looked up at him curiously. You saw the look in his eye and you cleared your throat, leaning away from him when you realized how inappropriate the two of you must have looked.
"Maybe I'll try the smaller one," you said, trying to steer the conversation back after the awkward moment.
"Nah, I'm just teasin' you. Don't do anythin' you ain't comfortable with," he told you, making you smile right as you caught up with Tommy and Maria. He loved making you smile.
"You guys wanna head back?" Tommy asked, tossing a handful of used napkins in a nearby trash can.
"Yeah, I should probably get to bed. Charlie's getting here early tomorrow and he wanted to try to get a hike in before the beach," you said, pulling your phone out to see if you had any missed texts from him. Joel swallowed and looked away.
"A hike? Since when are you a hiker?" Maria said with a laugh. You shrugged and grinned before looping your arm with hers, heading back in the direction of the house.
"Charlie must really like her," Tommy said as he walked side by side with Joel, both of them watching you and Maria giggling and poking each other in the ribs. "Always took him for a workaholic. Surprised he would be interested in coming out here."
Joel frowned before lighting up a cigarette. "It's the weekend. Didn't think he worked on the weekends."
"Oh, he doesn't, but he likes to put in extra time. Always chasin' that next promotion. Always been that way."
Joel exhaled a puff of smoke before replying. "How'd you know him again?"
"Used to work at the bar with me, if you can believe it," Tommy said, "but it was just somethin' to keep money in his pocket while he finished school. He was always a hard worker, even behind the bar. Real focused, y'know? Wasn't surprised at all when he got a job right outta college with that finance company."
Joel took another drag from his cigarette and allowed his gaze to drift to the curve of your ass in your shorts, knowing that the darkness would give him cover. "And you stayed friends all these years? Doesn't sound like you got much in common."
Tommy shrugged. "He's a nice guy and fun to hang out with when he lets loose. Used to be a good wingman back in the day. But he's the type of guy who's real driven. Sets his sights on a goal and will do whatever it takes to get it. I think his parents put alotta pressure on him growin' up."
Joel nodded and flicked his cigarette onto the pavement as they walked up the driveway to the house. He should be happy for you. It sounded like Charlie was a catch but he couldn't stop from comparing himself to your boyfriend. Even if he quit his job tomorrow and started over doing something normal, he would never reach the level of success Charlie had.
He didn't stand a chance in hell.
Maria was right. You were decidedly not a hiker. But Charlie seemed so excited to explore the area and you were just so grateful he took time out of his busy schedule to spend an entire weekend with you that you felt compelled to agree.
At least he gave you a great view of his muscular back as you trailed behind him, your legs ready to give out from the exertion any minute.
"I bet you made so much money as a bartender," you told him. He turned around and shot you a smirk.
"You checking me out back there?"
"Can you blame me?" you giggled.
"It's beautiful out here, babe," he said once you reached a high point with a clearing. He took a swig of water while you caught your breath. "Thanks for inviting me. I've never been out this way before."
"Really?" you asked in disbelief, "it's not that far from the city."
"Yeah, well, you know how it is," was all he said. You sat down on a fallen tree and stretched out your legs while Charlie took a few pictures of the view.
"Isn't Joel seeing anyone he could have invited this weekend?" Charlie asked out of the blue. You paused for a moment, taken off guard at the thought of Joel with a girlfriend. Something you never really considered before.
"Uh, I don't think he's seeing anyone serious," you replied.
Charlie chuckled and sat down next to you. "He's a bit of a fifth wheel, don't you think?"
Your face twisted up in disapproval when you looked at him. "Not at all. He's, like, part of our family. If anything-"
You stopped yourself before finishing your sentence but it didn't matter. Charlie furrowed his brow and glared at you.
"What? If anything, I'm the fifth wheel?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you were about to."
You sighed and rubbed your eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just because we all live together, that's all."
He scoffed and stood up, brushing off the back of his shorts before picking up his water bottle from the ground.
"We should head back," he grumbled as the guilt settled deep in your chest. You stood and wrapped your fingers around his bicep.
"Wait, come here," you said softly. He sighed and hung his head before turning around to face you. "I'm sorry. Really. I am," you reached up to cup his face and pressed your lips tenderly against his. You felt him relax into your touch and you smiled against his lips. "Can I make it up to you later?" you asked suggestively, and Charlie laughed.
"I'll hold you to it," he said with a playful swat on your ass. You squeaked and he grabbed your hand. "Let's get back. I wanna go to the beach and relax with you."
"That sounds amazing," you said dreamily as you followed him back the way you came, grateful the trail was now downhill.
Joel didn't like Charlie.
And it wasn't because he had his hands all over you the entire fucking day, but that didn't help matters. He tried to keep an open mind, he really did, but something about him just felt off. It clicked with Joel later when he noticed Charlie had encouraged you to cover up your bikini before heading over to the bar to grab some drinks, even though they had brought plenty to share in the cooler. You had initially protested, laughing him off when you thought he was joking, but gave in when you realized he didn't want other men staring at you at the bar.
Charlie was trying to control you and you didn't even realize it.
Those chips are terrible for you, babe. Try these instead. They're baked.
You gotta reapply sunscreen after swimming. Don't you know that, babe?
What are you reading that trash for? You gotta let me broaden your horizons, babe.
Babe. Babe. Babe. Babe.
It was really getting under Joel's fucking skin.
"You're so quiet today," you said, plopping down next to him after spreading out a towel on the sand.
"Am I?"
You gave him a look and grinned. "Yeah. What's up with you? Did you not sleep good or something?"
Joel shrugged and looked out at the water, grateful his sunglasses were able to disguise his feelings on that particular day. "Not really."
You hummed and regarded him silently for another moment before lying flat on your back, stretching yourself out to bask in the sun's warm rays. You took off your sunglasses and closed your eyes with a contented sigh while he fought the urge to stare at your perfect body so goddamn close to him.
He forced himself to scan the beach, looking for anything to keep his mind off your soft skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat just within an arm's reach. He felt a stirring below his waist when he imagined running his tongue between your breasts, licking up the sweat collecting there.
"Everything okay?" you asked when Charlie reappeared, his phone in hand. Joel shifted and tried to subtly rest his book over his crotch.
"Yeah, just a quick work call. Hey Joel, I think that girl's checking you out," Charlie said, sitting down in the sand next to you.
Joel resisted the urge to roll his eyes and forced himself to be nice. For your sake.
"Oh yeah? Where?"
"The one in the white bikini. Blonde hair, big tits."
You whipped your head in Charlie's direction, unable to keep the shock from your tone when you whispered his name in disbelief. Joel tried not to watch but he could tell you were offended and he hardly blamed you. Who says that in front of their girlfriend?
"Not really my type," Joel said, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes.
"Not your type?" Charlie scoffed, and Joel cracked open one eye, once again grateful for his sunglasses because he caught you trying to silently shut Charlie up, but he continued to ignore you. "If she's not your type then who is?"
Your fucking girlfriend is my type, asshole, he wanted to say. Instead he just shrugged and hoped he would drop it.
He didn't.
"Come on, why don't you at least try to talk to her. Maybe invite her to dinner tonight. Then it would be all couples for once."
"Charlie," you hissed, a little louder this time. "He's not interested. Leave him alone."
"What's the problem? You were just saying earlier how you wished Joel would find a girl. I'm just trying to give him a little encouragement," Charlie said with a smirk. Your mouth fell open and you shook your head but it was too late. Joel's heart plummeted into his stomach and the familiar sting of rejection crept up his throat, strangling him. If you were privately telling Charlie you wanted him find someone, that must mean you were really over him, and whatever foolish shred of hope he was clinging to was all for nothing.
"I never said that! Joel, I'm so sorry," you said, scrambling up from the sand and turning on Charlie angrily. "Why would you-"
"It's fine," Joel said curtly, standing up and brushing the sand off his swim trunks. "You're right. I'm gonna go talk to her."
You twisted your neck to look up at him, your mouth opening and shutting as you struggled to come up with something to say.
"Y-yeah. I mean... go for it," you stammered and watched as Joel made his way across the beach. Even from a distance you could see the girl's face light up as he approached and you felt a pit form in your stomach.
"Why would you lie to him like that?" you asked Charlie with a scowl. He grinned and settled back into his chair with a book.
"I just had a feeling if a close friend motivated him, he would do it. Poor guy needs to get laid."
Fortunately you could blame the heat from the sun on your reddening cheeks. Charlie had no idea what Joel really did for work. You always skirted around the question whenever it was brought up because deep down, you knew Charlie would have a problem with it.
You slipped your sunglasses back on with a sigh and crossed your arms, still pissed off with Charlie but not in the mood to get into an argument. You tried not to stare as Joel flirted with the girl in the white bikini. She leaned into him and playfully shoved his shoulder with a giggle and your chest tightened when you saw him thread his fingers together with hers and lead her towards the bar.
You had absolutely no right to get jealous. Joel wasn't your boyfriend for that exact reason: jealousy. You had your own boyfriend who was very smart, handsome and successful. And sure, sometimes Charlie pushed you into doing things out of your comfort zone, but he was trying to help you grow as a person. So if he was so great, why did you spend so much time thinking about Joel?
Chelsea was sweet, in her late twenties, got her degree in economics and also spent the better part of half an hour subtly rubbing her ass against Joel's hips at the bar. It was crowded, being right on the beach, and getting louder and rowdier as the afternoon dragged on. At first, Joel thought it was an accident, that the crowds of people forced her to press up against him. But he soon discovered it was quite intentional when she ducked her hand under the bar to rub his cock through his swim trunks.
"Whoa, what're you doin' down there?" he chuckled. She beamed up at him innocently.
"Feel like going for a swim?" she asked. He thought she was ignoring his question until they got in the water, swimming out a ways where it was quiet, but not too deep. Chelsea glanced around before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth against his, wasting no time slipping her tongue past his lips with a soft moan.
"I recognized you," she admitted, dragging her mouth down the column of his throat and dipping her hand below the water. He hissed when she slid past his waistband and wrapped her hand around his cock.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Mhmm," she said with a mischievous grin, her fist languidly stroking him up and down where nobody could see. "You're in dirty movies."
He laughed and squeezed her hips, encouraging her to come closer to him.
"You got me."
Even though she had her hand down his shorts in the middle of a lake surrounded by people enjoying a hot summer day, he had to admit that Charlie was right about her. She was sexy and charming and he liked how confident she was. She also seemed more than okay with his profession, which thrilled him. Maybe this was something that could actually work.
The first red flag came when he had two fingers curled inside her and she murmured I bet I feel better than those girls you have to fuck, huh?
It took him off guard for a moment but he shrugged it off, thinking it was just an idea that turned her on, so he told her yeah, so tight, baby.
The second red flag was when she asked are you gonna think about me next time you're at work?
His hips stuttered a bit underwater and he could feel the mental block building up. He tried kissing Chelsea to keep her from talking but it was too late, so instead he focused all his energy on getting her off with his fingers. Her grip loosened around his cock when she came, her moans muffled against his mouth. She grabbed at his shoulders desperately as her muscles went lax and he whispered I got you and held her against his chest until she caught her breath.
Over Chelsea's shoulder he could see you and Charlie on the beach. It was far away but he could spot you anywhere. While Chelsea murmured into his skin and raked her fingers through his hair, his eyes were pinned on you. You were standing up and brushing the sand off your legs, your perfect ass sticking out when you bent over in that hot pink bikini that was driving him fucking crazy all day.
Chelsea's hand was wrapped around his cock again, the mental block disappearing the longer he watched you. He groaned when you began to rub sunscreen into your arms, your tits bouncing with each and every movement. Chelsea took that as a sign to go faster. She whispered in his ear how big he was and before he even had a chance to stop it, his mind was imagining you saying that, instead. He remembered how nervous you were but then how you begged for his cock and his hips began to thrust into her hand underwater. Then, his breath caught in his throat when he watched you untie your bikini top, your arm holding the tiny pieces of fabric against your chest as the strings hung loose and you positioned yourself face down on the towel to tan in the sun.
"Fuck," Joel groaned, his cock pulsing in Chelsea's hand as he came. His breath was ragged and he fought to stand up in the water and not succumb to sinking to the bottom of the lake. She seemed to sense his struggle because she whispered in his ear let's go back.
As he swam to shore, the guilt began to wash over him for thinking about you when he was with another girl. That wasn't his intention at all. It was disrespectful to both you and Chelsea. But you were directly in his eyeline and he couldn't seem to stop himself. He could do better. He would do better.
"Hey, what're you doin' for dinner? A few of my friends are all goin' to this Italian place-"
"Oh," Chelsea said, cutting him off in surprise when they finally made it to the beach. "I'm sorry, thank you, but I have plans tonight."
He was a little disappointed but he knew giving a girl he just met a couple hours notice to go to dinner was asking a lot. "Don't worry 'bout it. Can I get your number? Maybe we can meet up tomorrow?"
Chelsea gave him a disbelieving look as she adjusted her swimsuit. "Are you serious?"
"Yeah, 'course I am. I'd like to get to know you better," he said with a lopsided grin. She laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of her neck and that was when Joel felt the uneasiness settle deep in his chest.
"I'm sorry, Joel. I thought this was just a hook up," she said, biting her lip and glancing around the beach. He could feel the smile fall from his face but he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment.
"Y-yeah, sure, I get it."
"I mean, you're really sweet and all, it's just... you know," she said with a little shrug. He swallowed and nodded. He knew. You can't take a pornstar home to meet your parents.
"Maybe I'll see you around?" he said, and Chelsea nodded. She kissed him goodbye and he watched as she made her way down the beach towards her group of friends, who had been watching with great interest.
He was living every man's dream and he couldn't feel shittier about it.
He didn't want to just hook up with random girls anymore. It was fun when he was in his twenties but now it just felt pathetic. He sighed and turned his head in your direction. Charlie looked like he had dozed off in his chair while you were still laying face down with your eyes closed on your towel, your smooth skin coated with a sheen of sweat, pinkening under the sun's rays.
As he began to walk back towards the pair of you, he spotted Tommy and Maria making their way over from the opposite side of the beach, having done their own excursion for a couple hours that day and promised to catch up with the rest of you before dinner.
Joel was relieved. At least there would be a buffer.
Admittedly, Joel drank a little too much at dinner. He was still a little bothered by his afternoon with Chelsea, but he would have gotten over it had Charlie not picked at the scab every chance he got. First, he ribbed him about not being able to seal the deal when he showed up to dinner alone, but Joel just politely laughed it off. Then, as dinner progressed and the table was on their third round, Charlie began to point out girls around the restaurant who looked like they could be single, asking Joel if he thought they were his type with a teasing lilt to his voice.
You hadn't really been paying attention. You were too engrossed with something Maria was saying, leaning across the table excitedly as the thin strap of your sundress slid down your shoulder. Your skin was practically glowing from the sun, your eyes sparkled when you giggled with Maria and Joel was finding it more and more difficult to keep his gaze off you. Charlie either didn't notice or care. His arm was resting along the back of your chair, his thumb brushing against your back or your arm while he explained to Tommy the Chelsea backstory. Tommy's eyes flickered back and forth between Charlie and Joel, providing a few forced chuckles at his teasing, then changed the subject the first chance he got.
"What d'we wanna do tonight?" he had asked, breaking up your private conversation at the other end of the table.
"Why don't we hit the boardwalk?" Charlie offered, tossing back the rest of his old fashioned.
"We did that last night," you said.
"It's my only night here, babe. I wanna check out the rides and shit."
Joel's jaw tensed and he looked down at the table.
Of course, everyone agreed, so once dinner was over they all strolled down the sidewalk towards all the bright lights, the intoxicating smell of sugar and the sound of carnival games in the air. Charlie spotted the Ferris wheel and snatched your hand.
"C'mon, babe, let's check it out!"
You stopped dead in your tracks, making him spin around in surprise. "I don't like heights, I'll just wait-"
"Oh, come on! It'll be romantic," Charlie murmured suggestively, pulling you into his chest and pinching your chin. Joel hurriedly walked past to catch up with Tommy and Maria, unable to stand there and watch him kiss you. He knew he was being unreasonable. He knew he had to get his jealousy under control or else it would drive a wedge between the two of you and he couldn't possibly risk that. You meant far too much to him. So, he tried to distance himself for the remainder of the night. He hung out with Tommy and Maria, checking out various shops, getting candied apples and playing games while he forced himself to not look over his shoulder and seek you out.
Looking back on it, he probably shouldn't have gotten that beer and shot at the bar after Tommy and Maria ducked into a photo booth. His head was already swimming from the drinks at dinner but he really didn't want to be awake later to hear you and Charlie through the walls.
Tommy and Maria found him after the photo booth and showed him the strip of pictures, laughing at some of the props and faces they were making when Maria suggested they take a ride on the ferris wheel since it would likely be their last chance. Joel told them he would just wait, not wanting to admit the mere thought of those little cars swaying back and forth made his stomach churn with the amount of alcohol he had drank that night.
He was smoking a cigarette and scrolling on his phone, sitting on a bench near the ferris wheel after Tommy and Maria had gotten in line when he heard you. The panic in your voice sent a jolt of fear down his spine and he jumped up, flicking his cigarette on the ground as he whipped his head back and forth, searching for you. Finally, he spotted you pushing your way through the crowds of people in front of the ride, your face red and soaked with tears. His heart sank and he rushed over just as Charlie emerged a few seconds behind you. When he reached out to touch your arm, you yanked it back so forcefully that you fell on your hands and knees, scraping your skin against the hot blacktop.
Joel called your name and you looked up frantically, your chest heaving. You reached out a shaky arm towards him and he immediately pulled you up off the ground, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you for damage. Aside from some red scrapes on your hands and knees from the fall, you appeared fine, but you clawed at his arms and gasped I can't breathe and his heart began to slam wildly in his chest. He held you up against him and twisted around, trying to spot a paramedic when Charlie waved you both off with a dry laugh.
"Bro, she's fine, she just got scared on the ferris wheel."
"She's not fine, fuckin' look at her!" Joel yelled, turning a few heads, but he didn't care. He dropped his gaze to your face, cupping your jaw and wiping your tears away. "You're alright. Hey, c'mon, you can do this. Take a deep breath in through your nose, like this. Watch-" he inhaled deeply and you did the same through clenched teeth, then he exhaled slowly, pursing his lips as you continued to follow his lead. He did it a few more times until the tears stopped and your color returned to normal.
"You alright?" he asked softly, brushing your hair away from your face. You nodded and looked around for somewhere to sit. He seemed to read your mind because he led you by the elbow towards the bench he vacated. Giving you a chance to catch your breath, he turned on Charlie.
"What the fuck, man? Why'd you make her go on that goddamn thing?"
His nostrils were flaring and he could feel the anger bubbling up into his chest.
"I didn't force her to do anything," Charlie said with a frown. "She's a fucking adult, she made her own decision-"
"Because you fuckin' pressured her!" Joel shouted, taking a menacing step forward. "I heard her tell you she was afraid of heights so don't bullshit me."
Charlie's hand clenched into a fist and his jaw tensed. "Why don't you mind your own fucking business before I knock you on your ass?"
"Is that a threat?" Joel countered, closing the distance between him and Charlie, staring him dead in the eye as he waited for him to make a move.
You shoved yourself off the bench and quickly wedged yourself between the two men, a palm pressed against each of their chests, pushing them apart. "Stop it, please," you begged, "I just wanna go back to the house."
They stared each other down for another moment before Charlie looked away with a scoff. He grabbed your hand and muttered something under his breath as he began to lead you away, but when you passed by Joel, you stopped.
"Thank you," you told him softly. You reached out to grab his hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. He nodded and forced a small smile before Charlie tugged on your other hand. Joel watched until the two of you disappeared into the crowd before he sighed and collapsed back onto the bench. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to get his temper under control when Tommy and Maria walked over, hand in hand with huge grins on their faces.
"You missed such a great view, Joel," Maria said, then looked around the boardwalk, asking where he thought you and Charlie went.
"Back to the house," was all Joel said before gruffly standing up and lighting another cigarette to help with the burst of adrenaline still coursing through his veins.
Joel managed to calm down by the time the three of them arrived back at the house. He replayed what he had said and done over and over and just hoped that you didn't hold it against him. It didn't seem like you were pissed with him when you left but he knew his actions just made the next day incredibly awkward, so Joel decided once he saw Charlie in the morning, he would apologize.
When he walked by your closed bedroom door, it was quiet with the exception of the water running in the bathroom. He slipped into his own bedroom down the hall, then turned on the TV and fell asleep.
He slept in a little later than he intended but he had a hunch he wasn't the only one. It seemed like everyone had a little too much to drink the night before and from the sound of the plates and silverware clinking together in the kitchen below, everyone was getting a slow start to the day.
"Mornin'," Joel mumbled to Tommy, who was sitting at the table, rubbing his eyes over a steaming cup of coffee. He glanced up and nodded in return before bringing the mug to his lips and taking a sip.
"Need help with anythin'?" Joel asked Maria who was busy cracking eggs. She laughed and shook her head.
"Go sit down. You look like you feel about as shitty as your brother."
Joel didn't need to be told twice. He sat down next to Tommy with a grunt, his hands curling around his own cup of coffee, blankly staring down at it, hoping it would bring him back to life.
"Hey," Tommy whispered, eyeing Maria from across the room who was busy gathering things from the fridge. Joel leaned forward and arched an eyebrow. "Charlie left real early this mornin'. I heard a car door slam and noticed his car's gone when we got downstairs."
"Shit," Joel muttered, glancing over at Maria quickly, making sure she didn't notice them gossiping about her best friend.
"Think they got in a fight or somethin'?" Tommy asked, but right as Joel opened his mouth to tell him the details of what happened the night before, Maria bounced over to them with a plate in each hand.
"I'm gonna go wake them up," she said, turning on her heel. Joel gave Tommy a curious look and he just shrugged.
"Didn't tell her," was all he said, then rolled his wrist in the air. "Tell me before they come down."
Joel managed to give Tommy the bullet points then began quickly shoveling eggs into his mouth when they heard Maria descending the steps. She entered the kitchen with her hands on her hips, looking concerned.
"What's up, baby?" Tommy asked innocently. She swiveled her finger around in the air as the gears turned in her head.
"Charlie left."
They both did a good job of acting surprised as Maria sat down with her own plate of food and with a hushed voice, told them you were upset and didn't want to come down for breakfast.
"Did they break up?" Joel asked, realizing too late that he sounded a little too eager, but Maria didn't seem to pick up on it. She was biting her nail, worried about you and trying to figure out how to navigate the rest of the day.
"I think so."
Conflicted was the only word to describe what Joel felt in that moment. He really didn't like Charlie but he hated the idea that he could be partially responsible for your pain.
After they finished eating, Maria checked the time and tapped her foot. "I think I should cancel the zip-line, Tommy," she said, "I don't want to leave her here all alone." Maria had planned for her, Tommy and Joel to zip-line over the beach, overlooking the lake. Knowing your fear of heights, she had intentionally picked that day, expecting you and Charlie to spend some alone time together.
"I'll stay, you two go," Joel said immediately, picking up their plates and heading to the sink.
"Are you sure?" Tommy asked, and Joel nodded.
"I'm not exactly in the best shape to be flying through the air, anyway."
"And I am?" Tommy replied, but Maria shoved his shoulder and put her finger to her lips behind Joel's back while he scrubbed the plates. "Uh, yeah, thanks Joel. You let us know if you end up goin' out and we'll meet up."
Joel stayed downstairs, alternating between going on his phone or watching TV. When it got closer to noon and you still hadn't come down, he began to worry. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a couple water bottles. Putting them on the counter, he scoured the fridge and scratched his chin. He was always a terrible cook, so he gave up quickly and resorted to ordering a couple burgers for delivery before taking the waters upstairs.
He rapped two knuckles gently on the door, then heard some shuffling before your voice called out, inviting him in.
"Oh, sweetheart," he said sympathetically when he saw your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You sat up in bed and tried to run your fingers through your tangled hair before sighing and giving up.
"Leave it to me to get dumped on vacation."
He gave you a sad smile and held out a bottle of water, which you eagerly accepted. He sat down on the edge of your bed and watched as you drained almost the entire bottle, then handed you his. You thanked him and set both on the end table before turning your attention back on your television, which he hadn't even realized was on.
"Legally Blonde?"
"I wanted to laugh but I forgot she gets dumped in, like, the first twenty minutes."
Joel chuckled and leaned back against your headboard. "I'm so sorry. If it was 'bout last night-"
"It's not your fault," you sniffled, pulling the comforter up to your chin.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"Not yet."
He hummed and nodded, turning back to the television. He gave you all the time and space you needed, staying close by for the rest of the afternoon in case you wanted to talk, only leaving to get the burgers when they arrived. You ate them in your bed, grease dripping from your fingers and laughing at stupid movies until you felt good enough to get up and shower.
"You wanna go mini golfing?" you asked over your shoulder as you fixed your hair in the mirror. Joel cringed but agreed. He absolutely hated golfing, but for you, he would suffer through it. Especially considering your mood seemed to be improving.
"Lemme text Tommy and let 'em know where we're goin'," he said, pulling out his phone and following you out the door.
"Oh, let's just do our own thing tonight," you said, then cleared your throat when you realized how that sounded. "I mean, y'know, they probably want time to themselves, right?"
"Yeah, sure," Joel agreed, side eying you before hopping into the truck. You gave him directions to a mini golf course ten minutes away, then rolled down the window and stretched your arm out, the warm summer air slipping through your wiggling fingers. Even though the sun had set, the air was still so thick with heat it felt like you could grab it.
"It's so hot," you said, sliding out of the passenger seat once Joel parked the truck. You fixed your skirt; a flowy, white number that felt feather light against your thighs as you walked. Joel agreed and checked his phone, noticing a text from Tommy.
"Hold up," he said, and you twisted around, your tennis shoes crunching on the gravel parking lot.
We're gonna go to that Mexican place. 30 minutes.
"They're invitin' us to dinner," he told you without looking up.
"Tell him we already ate."
He nodded and tapped out a quick reply before pocketing the phone and approached the cashier.
"Two tonight?" she asked, smacking her gum between her teeth.
"Yes, but I'll pay for mine," you said, reaching for your wallet.
"Nuh-uh," Joel said with a frown, about to argue but the cashier spoke up first.
"It's date night. Two for the price of one."
Your cheeks felt hot at the insinuation that you were on a date with Joel, but you couldn't pass up the deal to play for half price. Glancing at him awkwardly, you shrugged and he slapped his card down with a cocky smirk.
"Alright, pick out your ball, but for the love of god don't pick the-"
"Oh, look at the hot pink one!" you exclaimed gleefully, snatching it up from the bucket. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. "What?" you giggled, shouldering him playfully as you admired your ball.
"It's just such a girl thing to do," he said with a grin, then leaned over to pick a neon yellow ball for himself.
"Well last I checked, I am a girl," you winked and headed towards the door, his gaze falling to your ass only once before getting himself together and following you.
"Shoulda known," he tsked once he caught up, "matches your bathing suit and everythin'."
Your stomach flipped and you felt your cheeks grow hot once again but you just laughed him off and approached the first hole. The course was packed with couples, no doubt taking advantage of the deal, so it was slow going. By the fifth hole, Joel grew impatient and plopped down on a bench.
"Giving up so soon?" you teased, and he huffed.
"I ain't a quitter, just waitin' for some of these people to play through. Sick of standin' around."
"You sure it's not because I'm beating you by six?" you grinned as you sat down next to him.
"I'm lettin' you win, darlin'. Tryin' to mend your poor, broken heart," he said, rolling his head to the side with a smirk.
"Eh, I don't think we were together long enough to say he broke my heart, but it still sucks," you sighed, playing with your golf ball in the palm of your hand.
Joel eyed you for a moment, trying to choose his next words carefully. "You ready to talk 'bout it, or-"
"I thought he was nice, y'know? Like, okay, he could be a little pushy sometimes, but I really thought he was just encouraging me to get out of my comfort zone."
Joel frowned and shifted his weight on the bench. "What'dya mean?"
"Like, professionally. He was encouraging me to go back to school so I could get a better job, but I like my job. And other things, too. The ferris wheel," you said, rolling your eyes, "told me I should face my fears and all that."
"You're better off without him," Joel said without even thinking. You laughed and glanced up at him through your lashes.
"You think?"
"'Course. You don't need someone to tell you how to live your life. If you like your job, then why change it? If you're afraid of heights, who cares? Seemed to me like he was tryin' to fix you, and from where I'm sittin', you're-" he cut himself off and looked down at his hands, chewing on the inside of his lip to keep himself from finishing his sentence.
You stared at him for a moment, watching something flicker across his face. "I'm... what?" you asked gently.
He shrugged and took a deep breath. You're perfect, he wanted to say, but instead he went with "you don't need fixin'."
You smiled shyly and poked him in the ribs, making him chuckle.
"Thank you, Joel. You managed to save me from wasting the last day of vacation moping around in bed."
He let you drag him up from the bench so you could continue playing the course, but your conversation kept replaying in his head, distracting him. Even though you weren't a fan of his job, you never once pressured him to find a different one. You accepted him for who he was and it bothered him that Charlie couldn't do the same for you.
Joel watched you with a smile as you bent your head and lined up your putter with your golf ball. A little crease formed between your eyebrows as you focused on the windmill eclipsing the sixth hole, trying to time it just right. How could anybody want to change you? You were so adorable and sweet and you deserved someone who would worship the ground you walked on.
A foolish thought popped into his head and he opened his mouth, about to ask you a question that could possibly change everything.
"What if-"
He cut himself off when you tapped the ball down the turf, both of you watching and holding your breath when your hot pink golf ball managed to avoid the blades of the windmill and dropped into the little plastic cup with a soft clink.
"Holy shit!" you exclaimed, garnering a few odd looks in your direction, but neither of you cared. You dropped your golf club and jumped into his waiting arms, letting Joel spin you around as you both laughed and he told you what a great job you did, deciding it was best he never finished his question, anyway.
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Chapter Summary: Madeline preps you for the first day of the trial and shares a surprise witness being called to Patrick's defense, and Patrick requests to speak to you unexpectedly.
Chapter Warnings: language, smut (MDNI 18+), phone sex, m and f masturbation, dirty talk, mother issues (could be perceived as parental emotional abuse, and probably is), possessive!joel, recounting of previous DV and SA
WC: 7.2K
A/N: If anything in this chapter jumps out as you like 'I don't think that's how the law works', just move past it. I had Google and a dream.
Series Masterlist
The flickering florescent lights from the grocery store were starting to give you a headache as you slowly made your way up and down the aisles, occasionally stopping to grab a bag of chips or some mac and cheese. It was late. The store was quiet. You were supposed to be buying things to keep in your hotel room when you got to Austin, but you could hardly focus. You had the weekend to pack, buy supplies, and check into your room before meeting with Madeline on Monday. She was planning on using most of the day to prepare you for the trial, which was scheduled to start first thing Tuesday morning, and your nerves were a mess. And to make matters worse, Joel wouldn't be able to get to Austin until the morning of the trial.
The one silver lining was your divorce. Madeline felt confident after speaking to his lawyer that Patrick would be signing the papers this week. The cynical part of you wondered if there was a catch because Patrick was never one to take things lying down, but you tried to push it out of your mind. Instead, you focused on the variety of microwavable popcorn in front of you. Butter, lightly salted, movie theater... would you even notice much of a difference? You stepped forward to grab the first box you saw when another person unexpectedly walked right into you. You had been so lost in your own thoughts, you didn't even hear someone else coming down the aisle.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," you began. When you looked up to meet their eyes, the polite smile you had forced across your face immediately fell.
"Nikki, hi," you said, taking a small step back towards your cart. "My fault, I wasn't paying attention."
She tossed you a thin smile and not so subtly eyed you up and down.
"Haven't seen you in a while. Read anything good recently?" she asked icily, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.
"Not really. I haven't had much time," you told her, averting your gaze down the empty aisle.
"Oh, that's right. I heard you're getting a divorce," she said with a little pout, and you nodded as the heat began to creep up your chest. "Gotta make sure all those papers are signed before you go jumping into someone else's bed, right?"
"Excuse me?" you sputtered, lips parting in surprise. You thought she would have been a little more subtle than that.
"I hope you at least made sure he was worth it before leaving your husband for him, because woman to woman, I gotta warn you... it's nothing to write home about," she told you with a wink. You frowned and took another step back.
"I'm not leaving my husband because of Joel-"
"Oh, no, of course not!" she said cheerily.
"N-no, really, nothing's going on-"
"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," she whispered, giving you one more fake smile before turning on her heel and waltzing down the aisle, leaving you in shock.
"Jesus Christ," you muttered to yourself as you absentmindedly rubbed your eyes. Angrily, you reached out and snatched the box of popcorn before turning your cart in the opposite direction.
You hated the idea of someone in this small town having it out for you. She had been swaying the entire female population to turn on you just because she went on a couple dates with Joel and she figured out he had feelings for you, which was hardly your fault. But you thanked your lucky stars she didn't seem to know just how close you and Joel really were, because if she did, there was no doubt in your mind she would have spread that news like wildfire.
Impulsivity won and you swung your cart down the candy aisle, throwing far too many items into your basket.
To hell with Nikki. She had no idea what you were going through and you didn't have time for her high-school bullshit, so you forced yourself to move past it. Besides, you had much more important things to worry about. Like if you should buy Reese's or Snickers.
"I hate all my clothes."
"C'mon, they can't be that bad," Joel's voice filtered through your phone. You tapped the speakerphone button and dropped it onto your bed in order to free up both your hands, then held up two ugly blouses against your chest while you looked in the mirror.
"They really are," you told him, scrunching up your nose. "But Madeline told me if I wore stuff like this, it would look more sympathetic to a jury. Like I'm some poor, modest housewife in need of saving," you said with a roll of your eyes.
"Well, if Maddy told you to wear somethin' specific, you should listen to her. She knows what she's doin'. I've known her a long time, this isn't her first rodeo."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," you grumbled, picking up a couple of skirts that, in your opinion, were far too long and didn't make you feel very confident.
"You look beautiful in anything," he said, his voice dropping an octave lower.
"Thanks, but you're biased," you teased, and you heard a soft chuckle float through the speaker.
"Yeah, maybe," he agreed. There was a small pause as you continued to sift through your clothes, then he asked, "are you tryin' anythin' on right now?"
"No, once at the store was plenty," you huffed, then began folding the skirts up to place them in the bottom of your suitcase.
There was another pause before he spoke again.
"Then what are you wearin'?"
Your hands stilled and you sucked in a breath when you finally realized what he had been hinting at the past few minutes. Glancing down, you grimaced at your favorite pair of stained sweatpants and a tank top that had fraying straps, but you refused to throw it away because it made you feel skinny.
"A tank top," you finally answered, leaving out the part about your ratty old sweatpants.
"Mm, the white one?"
"Yes," you replied, your pulse already thrumming steadily in your throat at the line of questioning.
"Wish I was there with you," he said, his voice low just in case Sarah could hear from her bedroom. "I can see right through that top, drives me fuckin' crazy."
Glancing in the mirror, you realized he was right. You could see the outline of your nipples clear as day in the right lighting.
"Joel, is this a good idea?" you asked, but found yourself flopping down on your bed anyway next to your phone, your fingers dancing at your waistband.
"You're stressed, right?" he asked, his voice a little breathless now and you knew he must have been stroking himself. You've done this dance too many times.
"Yes," you whispered.
"Lemme help you relax, then."
You chewed on your lower lip as you stared up at your ceiling. You knew doing this with him complicated things and you were supposed to be able to take the stand in a few days and honestly say you weren't in a relationship with Joel, but the lines were too blurred and at this point, you had no idea how you would answer that question.
Then again, what difference would one more time make?
"Okay."
"Good girl," he murmured, and you felt yourself flutter at the praise. "Where are you right now?"
"I'm laying in bed," you told him, closing your eyes so you could focus just on his voice.
"And are you touchin' yourself?"
"No," you said, taking a deep breath. "But I want to." You heard him utter a soft groan.
"Go ahead. Just one finger and I want you to tell me how wet you are."
Slipping your hand under your waistband, you did as you were told, choosing the tip of your middle finger to slide through your folds and prod gently at your entrance.
"So wet," you murmured, then teased yourself again, collecting the arousal pooling there. "All wet because of you, Joel," you added breathily.
"Fuck, I wish I was there," he whispered again, and you slowly pushed your middle finger inside with a moan.
"W-what would you do?" you stammered as you felt the tension begin to build, a warm heat sparking low in your belly.
"I'd taste you first," he said lowly. "Only got to do it once, been dreamin' of doin' it again. You taste so fuckin' good, d'ya know that?" His accent deepened the more aroused he became, and it made your heart skip a beat.
"You're really good at it," you mumbled into the phone, your finger curling inside you, that one spot just out of reach.
"Tell me how much you liked it," he rasped, and a little groan slipped past your lips, your finger still pumping in and out.
"Loved it," you moaned, and you heard his heavy breathing now as he listened to you intently. "F-felt so good. God, that tongue... my thighs burned the next day from your beard. Felt it all night at work... thought about you s-so much. Fuck, Joel, I need more," you whined, your back arching pathetically.
"Add another finger and play with your clit, baby," he whispered, and you thought you could hear him fucking his fist on the other end, but his heavy pants drowned out the noise. You did as he said, gasping in relief at the extra stimulation while your legs began to shake.
"Joel-" you whimpered, but he cut you off.
"When this is all over, I'm gonna wake you up every mornin' with my mouth between your legs," he said with a grunt. "Would'ya like that? Hm? You want my tongue inside that tight little pussy? Want me to suck on your clit til you can't remember your name?"
"Oh, fuck, Joel, I-I think I'm gonna come," you cried out softly, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your finger rubbed fast little circles over your clit, your hips rocking against the heel of your hand as you chased your release.
"Go ahead, lemme hear you. Say my name, baby," he panted, his voice cracking, and you knew he was close. "Tell me - shit - tell me I'm the only man who's ever made you come."
And you did just that.
You fell over the edge, his name tumbling from your mouth over and over as you soaked your own hand, and once you got your bearings, you moaned about how good he made you feel, how no one else could ever compare, how you couldn't wait until he was in your bed again because your own fingers no longer satisfied you now that you've had him. You kept talking until you heard a sharp intake of breath and a low, muffled groan on the other end of the line, leaving each of you quietly panting for air.
"Feel better?" he asked after a few minutes, and even though he couldn't see you, you smirked.
"Yes," you whispered. You could hear him shifting around in his bed, his sheets bunching up and the springs on his mattress squeaked. "I miss you," you added sadly, thinking about the one night you got to sleep in his bed. How comfortable you felt. How at ease it made you feel, and he wasn't even in the bed with you. Just being around him was all it took.
"Me, too. We're so close, baby. Just a few more days. A week, tops."
His words instilled a newfound vigor in you. The fear and anxiety you felt about the trial temporarily disappeared and instead, you felt powerful. In charge. Confident. And eager to take your life back.
Monday
"Have you heard from any of the other women?" you asked Madeline hopefully, and she gave you a quick shake of her head.
"Not yet. I'm sorry," she replied, knowing you were all crossing your fingers that some of the women Joel talked to in Philadelphia would change their minds and come forward, but as hard as he tried to convince them, they were all too scared to say something, putting you back at square one. He had high hopes for one girl in particular, Nina, but so far she had refused to answer his or Madeline's calls and time was running out. "Don't worry, hun. We still have all the evidence on our side. We have the medical records, I can prove years of abuse with that and testimony from the people you put us in contact with. I am confident we will win, regardless of the other victims," she told you, looking you dead in the eye, and you believed her.
"Okay," you replied, taking a deep breath and nodding your head. "And again, I'm sorry I couldn't get anywhere with my mom. Do you think we'll still do okay without her?"
Madeline sat back in her chair and slid her glasses off, holding them gently in her hands while giving you a look across her desk that made your stomach twist.
She had bad news.
"We would do just fine without her, but I found out this morning that she was subpoenaed by the defense."
You stared at her, not quite understanding what you were hearing.
"What does that mean?" you finally asked, and although you had an idea, you needed her to say it.
"She agreed to speak on Patrick's behalf."
Tears sprung up in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away, refusing to allow your mother to cause you any more pain. Before you could say anything, Madeline spoke up again.
"Don't let it upset you. They might think they're making a power move, but I'll destroy her on the stand, mark my words. It will only help our case and paint the picture of a lifetime of abuse," she told you, putting her glasses back on before looking back down at the file in front of her. You hadn't ever considered your relationship with your mother as abusive before. You just assumed most girls had problems with their mothers growing up. But if she was willing to help your husband over her own daughter, essentially supporting everything Patrick has done to you, then 'abusive' was really the only word you could use at that point to describe your relationship.
"Okay, what else," you asked hurriedly, looking down at your hands folded on your lap.
"Well since we are already on the shitty news portion of the day, I do have one more thing I need to mention, and before I tell you, just know you can do absolutely whatever you want, okay? Do not feel pressured to go through with it-"
"Just say it," you told her, and she took a brief pause before continuing.
"Patrick asked to speak to you before the trial. He's holding the divorce papers as a hostage. Says he will sign them if you speak to him."
Your eyes shot up to meet hers in shock.
That was not something you were expecting to hear.
"W-why would he want to talk to me?" you stammered, and you could feel your heart beginning to pound louder in your chest, the fear and anxiety quickly taking hold yet again, just like it always did when it came to Patrick.
"My guess? He probably wants to convince you to drop the charges in exchange for a divorce. And that is something we are not going to do, understand me?" Madeline said, narrowing her eyes at you. "If my hunch is correct, he's scared. He knows he's going to lose and he is desperate. We do not need him to play nice here. I can get a judge to grant an annulment if he won't sign, it will just prolong everything a little more, but the end result will be the same."
The idea of your divorce taking even longer made your blood boil. You wanted to be with Joel. You wanted this to be over. It was only supposed to be a few more days... a week, tops.
Madeline could tell you were spiraling because she put her pen down and stood up from her chair.
"You don't have to talk to him. You are under no obligation to hear him out. We can just go through with everything the way we planned-"
"I'll talk to him," you said quietly.
"I have to give you my honest opinion here. I don't think it's a good idea."
"I'm not going to drop the charges, but... I don't know. Maybe I can convince him this is over. And if not, I'll just get up and leave," you told her firmly, and she examined you carefully before sighing.
"Alright. I'll contact his attorney and set something up in the morning. If you change your mind, you let me know. Night or day, five minutes before you walk into that room, it doesn't matter, okay? You don't have to do this."
"I know," you said, "I want to."
Madeline spent the rest of the day briefing you on what to expect for the trial. After opening statements, Madeline would argue your case with the evidence she collected and the witnesses she subpoenaed, then Patrick's lawyer would have the opportunity to cross examine and afterwards, it would be their turn to defend Patrick with their own witnesses before closing statements and deliberation. Madeline guessed the whole thing would take two or three days at the most, and that gave you some relief. No matter what happened, this would be over by the end of the week.
"I'll call you to the stand last," Madeline said. "It's best if your testimony is freshest for the jury, especially right before the defense states their case."
"Okay. And what do I do when I'm up there? Should I look at the jury or the judge, or just you?"
"Look wherever you feel comfortable, but don't offer any extra information outside of the question being asked. We'll rehearse the questions I'm going to ask before you leave today, and when it comes time for the defense to cross examine, give as little information as possible. Yes or no answers. And they'll try to get you upset - don't let them. That's important, okay?"
"Yes," you said with a nod. "I understand."
After you ran through the questions, Madeline sent you back to your hotel room with the list for you to review and practice on your own, but your head was pounding by the end of the day. Your eyes burned and your mind was racing and all you wanted to do was sleep, but your body wouldn't let you. You ended up pacing around your room and trying not to let your anxiety about seeing Patrick in the morning torment you. You had just found a mindless cooking competition show to put on to help distract you when your phone pinged next to you on the nightstand.
Joel: All ready for tomorrow?
You: I think so, but I'm nervous. Can't sleep.
Pausing for a moment, you added another text.
You: I'm meeting with Patrick in the morning before it starts.
It took less than two minutes for your phone to ring.
"What d'you mean? Why're you meetin' with him?" Joel's voice asked aggressively the moment you answered the call.
"He's holding out signing the papers until he speaks to me," you explained. "He says he'll sign them if I talk to him. I figured there's no harm, he can't hurt me-"
"No harm?!" Joel exclaimed, and you quickly stopped talking. "All he does is harm! The fuck are you thinkin'?" he asked, sounding less angry and more upset now.
"Madeline said it'll take longer to get a divorce if he refuses to sign. I just want this over with, Joel!" you said, your voice beginning to break. "I don't want to wait a few more weeks or months. I'm fucking done! And if listening to whatever he has to say for twenty minutes gets him to sign the goddamn papers, then I'll do it! Because I can't do this anymore!" you sobbed into the phone, the tears you fought to hold back all day finally coming to the surface.
"Okay, okay, calm down," he said soothingly, and you took a few shaky breaths in. He waited until your breathing steadied before speaking again. "What time are you supposed to see him?"
"8:30," you said, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.
"Alright, I'll be there," he said. "Just in case. I wanna be there."
"You can't come in the room with me, Joel."
"You can't go in alone," he argued.
"Madeline said the conference room they booked has a door with a window. You can both watch from the hall."
He grumbled to himself on the other end and you waited, chewing on your lower lip nervously, for him to say something.
"One wrong move and I'm puttin' his head through the fuckin' wall," he muttered.
"That wouldn't exactly help your lawsuit," you reminded him.
"You let me worry 'bout that," he said, and you yawned. He must have heard you because his voice softened. "You gotta get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."
"I know," you replied, and although you felt like you wouldn't get much restful sleep, your eyelids were still getting heavy.
"I'll be there bright and early, alright? And I'm stayin' til it's over."
"What about Sarah?" you asked sleepily.
"She's stayin' at a friend's house. Couldn't be more excited about it. Practically kickin' me out," he said with a chuckle.
You laughed as you stared blankly at the TV, watching some poor girl cry when her crème brûlée burnt. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Joel bit his tongue on the other end of the call, holding back the words he really wanted to say but knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he said "good night, baby. See you in the mornin'."
Tuesday
As expected, you tossed and turned all night. It was clear as day when you caught your reflection in the mirror and winced at what you saw. The bags under your bloodshot eyes wouldn't be tamed by the concealer Maria bought you so long ago, but you tried your best, anyway. After picking out the least ugly shirt and skirt combination, you made sure your hair looked decent before taking a deep breath and stepping out the door of your hotel room.
The first step towards your freedom.
You were proud of yourself. You had actually managed to not let the nerves get to you until you entered the courthouse and saw Madeline tapping away on her phone, wearing a dark blue pantsuit and hair pulled back in a simple bun, with a black leather suitcase hung over her shoulder. She looked up when she heard you approach, giving your outfit a nod of approval before enveloping you in a quick hug.
"You ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," you said, giving her a nervous smile. Your hands were beginning to shake as she walked you down a secluded hallway towards the conference room she had booked for your conversation with Patrick. You could feel your chest tighten with every step you took, but when you turned the corner and saw Joel leaning up against the wall in a brown suit with another man you didn't recognize but assumed was Patrick's lawyer, you instantly felt relief. When his eyes locked with yours and he gave you a small smile, you felt even calmer.
You could do this.
"Last chance. Are you sure you want to do this?" Madeline said next to you. Glancing through the window in the door, you saw Patrick sitting at the table in a rumpled jumpsuit, his handcuffed arms resting on the table as he stared down as his fingernails. You nodded and looked at Patrick's lawyer.
"Does he have the divorce papers, or do you?"
The lawyer gave you a polite smile before replying "I do, miss."
You nodded before taking a deep breath, and glancing at Joel one more time to remind yourself why you were doing this, you twisted the doorknob and stepped into the room.
Patrick lifted his head up when you walked in and gave you half a smile, but you just shut the door behind you and walked to the other end of the table, as far away from him as you possibly could get, and sat down.
He stared down the table at you, giving you his most charming persona, the side he always brought out when he knew he had gone too far and wanted to make amends. You folded your hands calmly on the table and tilted your head to the side, waiting for him to speak. Minutes ticked by, inching closer and closer to your trial time as you waited, refusing to be the one who bent first.
"New clothes?" he finally asked, and you quirked an eyebrow.
"Yeah, looks like you got some new clothes, too."
You patted yourself on the back for the jab, but you didn't show a hint of the smugness you were feeling when you saw a quick scowl flit across his face.
"Alright," he said, leaning back in his hair and lifting his hands up in mock defeat. "You win."
"What did I win?" you said with a frown.
"This," he said, motioning between the two of you. "You want outta this so badly, fine. I'll sign the papers. I'll leave you alone."
"Great," you said, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.
"You gotta drop these charges, though, baby. This shit could get me killed, you know that?"
"Don't call me baby."
He sat forward suddenly, making you flinch. "What the hell do you want me to call you, then?"
You took a steadying breath and glanced at the door, catching Joel's eye before looking back at Patrick.
"I'm not dropping the charges."
He shrugged and dropped his hands loudly on the table. "Then I ain't signing the papers."
You looked at Joel again. His lips were pressed in a thin line as he watched the two of you and you wondered if he could hear anything through the door.
"What about the charges against Joel? Would you let it go and sign if I dropped the charges?" you asked quietly, and that caught Patrick's interest. He smirked and folded his hands on the table.
"Oh, no. Can't do that. I got your boyfriend right where I want him. Got a rockstar witness that'll help me take him for all he's got. Hope that kid of his is smart, she's gonna need to get a scholarship for college. Daddy ain't gonna have two dimes to rub together when I'm done with him."
Your jaw clenched and your nostrils flared as you stared at Patrick across the table, doing your best to rein in your anger and not say something stupid.
"You don't have shit against him," you spat, and true to form, he couldn't help himself. He just had to show his hand.
"Bullshit. Got that girl he was on a date with that night at the bar willing to testify he had it out for me, that he was obsessed with you and would do anything to get rid of me," he sneered, looking quite pleased with himself.
You bit down on the inside of your cheek. You knew Nikki was pissed, but this was going too far.
"Then it doesn't sound like we have anything else to talk about," you said, standing up. You made your way to the door, passing by his chair, when he spoke once again.
"You're not gonna win, you know. They don't put cops in jail. Juries feel too guilty, knowing how dangerous it is."
You looked down at him, finally seeing him for who he really was: a pathetic, desperate, sad excuse for a man. No matter how long it took for Madeline to finalize your divorce, you would do it the right way. You've suffered for years, a few more months wouldn't kill you.
And then you would be free.
"Hope you're willing to bet your life on that," you said before turning on your heel and swinging open the door.
Joel was at your side in an instant, following you and Madeline down the corridor towards the courtroom.
"Do I even want to ask?" Madeline said over her shoulder.
"You were right. He wanted me to drop the charges in exchange for signing the papers," you told her, then glanced up at Joel by your side. "I said no. We're doing this the right way."
"Good," they both said at the same time. Your hand itched to reach out and hold his, but you knew you couldn't, so you settled for gently brushing your knuckles against the back of his hand and you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
When you entered the courtroom, which was much smaller than you expected, your eyes immediately drifted around to the scattered few people seated in the spectator chairs. You had completely forgotten about your mother, and seeing her sitting there, on the other side of the room as your cousin, with her hair pulled back tightly and wearing a navy blue dress you hadn't seen before, sent you into shock. Fortunately, she stared straight ahead, avoiding your penetrating gaze, so you looked away and made eye contact with your cousin, who gave you a tight smile and a thumbs up.
Then you heard Joel suck in air next to you and you glanced up at him, following his gaze to Michelle, who was seated a few rows behind the plaintiff's table.
"What's she doing here?" you tried to mutter under your breath.
"Don't know," he replied quietly, turning his focus away from her.
Madeline swung open the doors for you to step through and take a seat behind the desk, where she joined you and began to open up her briefcase and spread out all her files on the table. Joel slid into the row of chairs right behind you, and if you took a deep breath, you could smell him. Gone was the putrid cologne, the only thing he ever had in common with Patrick besides his profession. All that you could smell was him. His natural, masculine scent mixed with a subtle hint of his deodorant and some hair product. A smell you had grown to love and crave.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, you noticed you had less than five minutes before the trial began. More people began to stream in. Witnesses on both sides, some you recognized and some you didn't. A few cops that you knew were close with Patrick on the force sat together in full regalia, no doubt trying to win favor with the jury with their choice in clothes, just like you.
You had a chance to look at Joel just one more time, one fleeting smile and wink from him before the doors swung open. Patrick and his lawyer marched up to their table, both of them avoiding looking in your direction as they got settled in just in time for the bailiff to announce for the room to rise, and moments later the judge and jury walked in.
You were holding up better than you expected. All of these months of preparation finally paid off. You were more confident after each witness Madeline brought up to the stand. She started with a couple old co-workers of yours, who didn't have much to say other than they had asked you a few times about your bruises and you had made up excuses, but they always suspected something else was going on. Patrick's lawyer stood up and objected when they hinted at your husband being the cause, and the judge agreed. Madeline backed off her line of questioning and once she was satisfied, announced no further questions before sitting down. Patrick's lawyer - Beckett Kennedy, you learned - chose not to question them further.
Next was your cousin, Mary, who testified she knew Patrick was hurting you, but as Beckett would clarify for the jury later under cross examination, had no proof other than your word. She explained how you continually went to her for help, that she helped you get on birth control without Patrick's knowledge, and how you confided in her the night before you fled to Texas.
The next witness in your defense was Carol, the doctor Joel had brought you to after Patrick's most recent assault.
That was when things got rocky.
There were blown up images of your injuries being projected in front of the entire room, including some that blurred out your privates, but you still found to be absolutely humiliating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying not to show too much emotion as Carol explained in great detail all of the injuries you had sustained not only that day, but historically as well. Madeline called into evidence your old medical reports from the hospitals back in Philadelphia, and Carol gave her expert opinion on each one, explaining in layman's terms what each and every note meant so that the jury could understand.
Every single cut, bruise, laceration, and broken bone was discussed as you stared down at your hands in your lap, your cheeks burning. You heard Joel shift behind you in his seat and you tried to take a deep breath, tried to catch his scent to calm you, but you were too far away or maybe it wasn't strong enough and the urge to turn around and bury your face in his neck for comfort was overwhelming.
Finally, Madeline finished up with Carol, thanking her for her time before sitting down next to you. She gave you a wink, trying to reassure you everything was going smoothly, and you gave her a small smile in return.
Beckett then got up to cross examine Carol. He tried to poke holes in her medical expertise, tried to question her knowledge about sexual assault and if she could truly be considered an expert in that particular field of study when she was just a general practitioner but Carol sat tall and told the court she was an OBGYN for ten years and that she very much had a vast amount of knowledge in the area of female anatomy.
After Beckett insultingly tried to suggest pap smears and the occasional birth could hardly make Carol an expert in trauma, she was excused.
"We have time for one more witness, Maddy," Judge Dean, an older man with bright blue eyes and absolutely no hair on his head, announced before she stood up and took a deep breath.
"The prosecution calls Sheriff Joel Miller to the stand."
After Joel raised his right hand and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, he sat down and adjusted his blazer, then glanced at Madeline expectantly. She gave him a warm smile and started slow. She thanked him for traveling all the way to Austin to give his testimony, asked him to verify how long he had been town sheriff, and asked him to give an approximate idea of how many incidents he had encountered in his tenure for domestic or sexual abuse.
"So it sounds like you're no stranger to this type of crime."
"Unfortunately, no," he replied.
"The plaintiff didn't call the police when she was assaulted, is that correct?" she asked.
"That's correct."
"Can you explain how you came to find out she was hurt?"
Joel took a deep breath and glanced quickly at you before looking back at Madeline. "She works as a waitress at the diner in town. See her almost every day for lunch. One day she called in sick, I had a hunch somethin' was wrong and her apartment's on the way back to work, so I stopped to do a wellness check on her."
"What caused you to have a hunch, sheriff?"
"The day before, I saw the plaintiff and defendant at a coffee shop. I witnessed the defendant put his hands on the plaintiff in an aggressive manner and it raised some red flags," he explained calmly.
"And when you went to her apartment to do a wellness check, what did you see?" Madeline asked, looking up from her legal pad with her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. You dropped your gaze to your lap. You could remember that day vividly. The shame and embarrassment and the pain all came rushing back, and you tried to blink the tears away as you focused on Joel's answer.
"It was clear the plaintiff had been attacked," he began, and only because you knew him so well, you could hear the slight strain in his voice. "She had a gash on her forehead, a split lip, a bruise on her cheek and scratches all down her neck."
Madeline hummed as she picked up the remote for the projector and flipped through the images that Carol had gone over. She stopped on a picture of your face with wounds that matched Joel's description and you noticed out of the corner of your eye a few jurors shake their heads sadly.
"Are these images the injuries you're describing, sheriff?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"After you performed the wellness check, what happened?" Madeline asked, setting down the remote but leaving the picture of your beat up face on the monitor. You knew she was doing it to garner sympathy and help paint the picture Joel was describing, but it made your stomach turn.
"I encouraged the plaintiff to seek medical treatment and press charges."
"And that is when the plaintiff visited Dr. Carol Parker, correct?"
"That's correct."
"I noticed at the same time, the defendant was in holding, is that true?" Madeline asked, and Joel nodded.
"Yes."
"Why was he arrested, sheriff?"
"He was drunk and disorderly in public the night before, so I took him in to sleep it off."
"Were those the only charges against him?" she asked.
"No. He also punched me when I was attempting to make the arrest, so he was also charged with assaulting a police officer."
"And when the plaintiff came to the station to give her statement, that was when the additional charges were filed, correct?" Madeline asked, picking up the remote to switch to a slide of the long list of charges against Patrick.
"Correct."
"I also see here a restraining order was filed to protect the plaintiff."
"Correct."
"And did the defendant obey the restraining order?"
"No, he did not," Joel said, straightening up in his seat. "He showed up at the plaintiff's place of employment and tried to intimidate her. Threatened her." You closed your eyes for a moment, remembering that night when Tommy and Thor stood up for you. How scared you were, how hopeless you felt and then Joel arrived, and you felt like you could breathe again.
"And the police were called then?"
"Yes. Maria Miller, one of the owners of the diner, called down to the station and spoke with my deputy, who then called me on his way down to the diner and I met up with him there."
"To arrest the defendant for violating the restraining order?"
"Yes, that's right."
"And did you?" Madeline asked, leaning against the desk and crossing her ankles in front of her.
"Not that evening, no. He couldn't be found," Joel said. You stiffened in your seat, bracing for what was coming next.
"Can you tell me what happened after you arrived at the diner?"
Joel swallowed and glanced briefly in your direction again before answering. "I took the plaintiff back to her apartment so she could get some things and stay elsewhere for the night. We were worried the defendant would try to harm her and thought it best she stay away from her residence until he was apprehended," he said, pausing for a moment. "But when we got there, it was clear the defendant had already broken in-"
"Objection," Beckett announced suddenly.
"Sustained."
"Allow me to rephrase," Madeline said, pushing off her desk. "What did you witness when you arrived back at the plaintiff's apartment?"
"It appeared the place had been broken into," Joel began. "Her belongings were destroyed. There were holes in the drywall, dish-ware broken, graffiti on the walls, and what smelled like urine in her bed."
Madeline used her remote to flip to images of your apartment from that night, and when the one of your bathroom came onto the screen, you heard a low murmur from the people behind you.
"According to my notes, you sent out a pair of officers to process the scene the next morning, along with a forensic analyst, is that correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I would like to draw your attention to exhibit 6C, the forensics report," Madeline said, clicking the remote to another slide where a document appeared with the label Exhibit 6C at the bottom. "What can you tell me about this report, sheriff?"
"Objection. The witness can hardly be considered a forensics expert, your honor," Beckett said, standing up.
"I believe he's proven he has many years of experience and can answer basic questions," Madeline argued. "I will wait until tomorrow to question the forensics analyst in more detail, but I believe the sheriff has the ability to answer one simple question today."
The judge looked back and forth between Madeline and Beckett as he considered his answer.
"Be careful, counselor," he warned Madeline, then turned to Joel. "Go ahead."
"The DNA taken from the mattress matched the sample we took from the defendant at the station, so we brought additional charges against him for breaking and entering once he was arrested."
"And when did you finally arrest him, sheriff?"
"The following day."
"Can you please describe for the court how and where you found the defendant?" Madeline asked, leaning against the desk again. You nervously twisted your fingers in your lap as you listened.
"We found him in a crack house with some locals and a couple prostitutes."
"Did he resist arrest?"
"No, this time he was too high and passed out-"
"Objection!" Beckett yelled. "Speculation, your honor."
"Sustained," the judge said, frowning at Joel, but Joel just kept his gaze trained on Madeline.
"No further questions, your honor," Madeline said, turning on her heel to sit back down next to you.
"Your witness," the judge said with a nod in Beckett's direction, and a smug smile spread across his face before he stood up. He paced in front of the bench for a few moments, trying to build up the anticipation, and it was working. Your heart was thundering in your chest as you watched him walk slowly back and forth, but Joel appeared to be perfectly calm as he waited for his first question.
When he stopped pacing and you saw the look on Beckett's face, you knew exactly what was coming. It was the moment he had been waiting for. The bombshell. Their only chance at swaying the jury in their favor thus far, and he was ready to strike.
"Sheriff, have you ever had sex with the plaintiff?"
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