#thelastofus

For him, whenever your name popped up on his phone, it felt like both a blessing and a curse. He tried his absolute best to keep things strictly friendly, but every single time you called him and asked, "How are you doing, hun?" in that soft voice, he melted a little bit more. At the same time, the distance felt so crushing that he eventually started ignoring your calls, constantly excusing himself with endless things to do. It hurt him deeply—he didn't want to shut you out—but he honestly didn’t know what else to do to protect his own heart. 

By March, he met Lilly, a nice girl who worked at some bank downtown. You never knew much about her, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. When they first met, you were completely stressed out by work; a massive brand wanted you to lead their new marketing project, and everyone in the corporate office had their eyes on you. You were so consumed by your own life that you didn't even flinch when Joel posted a picture with Lilly on Instagram, her arms wrapped around him, captioned with a simple: "My girl."

Joel was really into Lilly at first; she was sweet, kind, and incredibly easygoing. But sometimes, when she got all dressed up for a night out, he would look at her and instantly see you in that little black dress you had worn to the Christmas party. Sometimes, when she sat on his lap, his brain would glitch and he would feel the ghost of your bare legs resting on him instead. Because of that, he started to resent you little by little. He knew it wasn’t your fault—in fact, he knew it was entirely his for being so damn weak. You weren’t even close anymore; you had stopped calling, you had stopped inviting him, and you had completely moved on with your life. He thought he had done the same, yet he was stuck in a vicious loop where he could only see you. 

In his daily life, he usually managed to forget about his quiet resentment because life wasn’t exactly being easy on him either. Between his promotion at work and trying to maintain his new relationship, he had too many things going on in his own life to keep dwelling on you. But every single time he met up with Tommy, he somehow ended up talking about you. And every single time your name popped up on his Instagram feed, his fingers would betray him and check your account once again. 

At first, Lilly didn’t care. She had met the friend group and learned fast how important you were to everyone. But the more she got to know Joel, the more she began to understand his subtle behaviors. And that’s exactly when the real problems started. 

"She got a Ferrari!" Tommy said, his voice loud and excited as he shoved his phone into Joel's face, showing him a picture you had sent of you sitting inside a sleek, red sports car. 

"Wait, she bought it?" Joel asked, his eyes widening in a mix of surprise and genuine excitement. 

"Nah, but the brand invited her to this huge party and told her she could borrow one anytime she wants," Tommy beamed. 

"No way," Joel said, a massive, proud smile spreading across his face. 

"Borrow one?" Lilly asked from the couch, her tone sounding a little annoyed. 

"Yeah. She worked for their marketing team on a major campaign, and they did a spectacular job," Tommy explained, scrolling through the other pictures you had sent him, completely unaware of Lilly’s growing annoyance. 

"Lucky her. Bet she's happy," Lilly muttered, crossing her arms. 

"Nah," Tommy shook his head, chuckling. "She doesn't care about that kind of flashy stuff." 

"Then why is she bragging about it to you?" she asked sharply. 

"Because I love Ferraris. It's for me." 

Lilly let out a dry, humorless scoff. "So she’s just tryin' to make you jealous." 

Joel went completely rigid, his knuckles turning white around his beer bottle. "No, she ain't," he corrected her, his texan drawl dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "She ain't like that at all. It's just an inside joke between us." 

The words hung heavily in the room. In that exact second, Lilly felt the suffocating, undeniable tension stretching between her and her boyfriend.

Tommy kept checking his phone, looking at the pictures you were sending him in real-time from the party. 

"OMG, she looks so beautiful," Tommy said, his voice dripping with affection like a proud mom. 

"Let me see," Joel said, the words flying out of his mouth a little too fast, a little too excited. 

Tommy turned the screen toward him, showing him the picture. You were wearing a chic, all-black outfit, your hair styled in perfect, soft waves, and your lips painted with a bold red lipstick. Joel's breath caught in his throat. You looked stunning. You looked exactly like the New York world he was so terrified of. 

"I'm gonna frame this one," Tommy said, smiling down at his screen. 

"Oh, so you have a crush on her," Lilly said suddenly, her tone sharp, acting as if she had finally uncovered some big, hidden secret. 

"What?" Tommy gagged, looking genuinely disgusted by the mere suggestion. "Gross, no. That's my daughter you're talkin' about." 

Joel didn’t look at Lilly. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn around and face her. He felt her comment was so completely out of place, so dangerously close to the actual truth of the room, that he just stayed frozen in a heavy silence for a moment. 

"They've been best friends since high school. You already know that," Joel finally said, turning around slightly to look at her as he forced himself to calm down, his texan drawl tight and low. 

"Okay, but he can still have a crush," Lilly argued, defending her point, completely missing the underlying tension. 

"No," Tommy said, making a thoroughly disgusted face. "I was there when that woman got her first period, Lilly. She is literally blood to me." ----------------------------------------------------------------

The restaurant was a fancy place, a new spot in town Lilly had been dying to try, so Joel booked a table and took her as soon as he could. 

He was waiting for her on her front porch when his phone started buzzing, and your name popped up on the screen. He looked at your name twice, a bittersweet smile touching his lips as he thought about how incredibly good you always were at timing. 

"Hey, stranger," you said from the other end of the line, your voice instantly cutting through the warm Texas evening. 

"Hey," he said, clearing his throat and trying his absolute best to play it cool. 

"So... I wanted to tell you something." 

"I'm all ears, darlin'," he murmured, leaning his heavy frame against the porch railing. 

"Ready?" 

He smiled, letting out a soft, low laugh. "Spill it." 

"I’m moving back to Austin." 

Joel froze. The air in his lungs completely vanished, and his entire body went rigid as he stood on that porch, completely at a loss for words. 

"Joel?" you asked after a few seconds of dead silence, thinking you had somehow lost the connection. 

"You... you said you're movin' back?" he finally managed to ask, his texan drawl tight, rough, and trembling slightly. "Like... permanently?" 

"Yes!" You sounded so incredibly excited, your voice bright and full of life. "They need someone to head the new office here in Austin, and they wanted a local. Me!" 

"And... when is this happenin'?" 

"Who knows? They are still workin' on the building," you said, chuckling. "Aren’t you excited, Joel?" 

"Yeah," he lied, his chest tightening with a violent wave of panic and hope all at once. "I am. Of course I am, sweetie." 

"Well, I just wanted to tell you that if you still want to come out and visit me in New York, it’s pretty much now or never." 

Joel swallowed hard, the knot in his throat feeling like sandpaper. Right in that exact second, the front door opened, and Lilly stepped out onto the porch, wearing a beautiful violet floral dress. 

"Okay... we’ll have to talk about that later," he rushed out, desperately trying to end the phone call before his face could betray the utter chaos in his mind. 

"Okay, I’m counting on that," you said, still sounding completely thrilled, before hanging up the phone.

"Ready?" Lilly asked Joel, a bright smile on her face as she smoothed down her floral dress. 

Joel nodded once, his movement stiff as he walked toward his truck mechanically. During the entire ride to the restaurant, Lilly kept talking about some juicy work gossip from her bank, but Joel was definitely not listening to a single word. His mind was miles away, trapped in a dizzying loop of your excited voice telling him you were comin' home. 

"Where are you right now?" she asked kindly, reaching over to touch his arm when she noticed he was completely zoned out. 

"Mmh... sorry. Just kept thinking about that client," he lied with a half-truth, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. 

"Just tell him yes." 

Joel glanced at her fast, his dark eyes flashing with sudden offense before snapping back to the road. "Yes? I can’t just do that."

"Why not? If you say no, you're gonna lose the deal," she shrugged, dismissing his concern entirely. 

"If I say yes, I can lose my job, Lilly." 

"Oh, don’t be so dramatic."

"Lilly, this ain't the bank," he muttered, his texan drawl turning sharp, cold, and defensive. "We work with our lives on the line out there. If we don't follow protocol, someone can have a serious accident. I could have it."

"You'll be fine," she said, rolling her eyes as she looked out the window. 

Joel stayed quiet, a heavy lump forming in his throat. In that exact second, his brain instantly drifted back to you. He thought about how you would never, ever tell him how to handle his crew or his clients. He thought about how you actually respected his craft, and how you would never tell him to sell his soul or risk his neck just for a little extra money. 

He was about to bite his tongue when his phone lit up on the dashboard again—your name blaring across the screen for the second time. Since he was driving, picking up wasn't an option, but Lilly saw your name from where she was sitting.

"Why is she callin' you?" she asked, staring at his phone with a sudden sharpness in her eyes. 

"No idea," he said flatly, looking straight ahead at the road. 

"Are you two close?" she finally asked, her voice tight. 

"Kinda," Joel muttered, talking more to himself than to her. "I mean... I've known her for almost a decade."

"Is she nice?" she asked, her curiosity turning into something more dangerous. 

"Yeah," Joel murmured, and despite the thick tension suffocating the truck, he couldn’t help but give a small, soft smile at the thought of you. 

Lilly nodded slowly, teeth clenching. "Isn't she some money expert or somethin' like that?"

"Money expert? Dunno where you heard that. She works in marketing."

"I bet she would tell you to say yes to your client," Lilly argued, her tone dripping with passive-aggression. 

"No," Joel answered quickly, his texan drawl instantly dropping into a firm, defensive register. "She would never do that."

"Oh, really? She says no to her clients?"

"It's different," Joel muttered, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. "But yeah... she ain't afraid to decline good offers if they don't sit right with her."

Joel saw Lilly’s intention to keep pushing, so he reached over and held her hand softly, trying to kill the conversation before it ruined the whole night. 

"Can we stop talkin' about this?" he said, his voice calmer now, gentler. "Let’s just enjoy our date."

Lilly let out a slow breath and nodded. "Yeah. Let’s do that," she agreed, squeezin' his hand back. 

The dinner started out tense, but after a while, they both loosened up a bit and actually started enjoying the date. The problem was, the more wine Joel drank, the more his traitorous brain kept drifting back to your phone call. He couldn't stop thinking about you inviting him over again after months of dead silence. He couldn't stop thinking about how you would soon be back home. So close. So freaking close. He looked across the candlelit table at his girlfriend—a nice, sweet woman that he kinda loved, not passionately, but tenderly. And then, his mind completely abandoned the restaurant, sliding back into the cab of his truck, picturing an entirely different conversation with you sitting in the passenger seat.

"Just kept thinkin' about that client," his fantasy version of himself said, sounding genuinely worried as he stared at the road. 

"Why?" you asked in his mind, turnin' your body toward him. "What is there to even think about, Joel?"

"He keeps pushin' about doin' it his way."

"Fuck him," you said, looking completely annoyed on his behalf. "Don’t you dare do it."

"But what if I lose the deal?" 

"Then you lose it. What if you fall and break a leg out there?" you challenged him. 

"I won’t be able to work till I get better."

"And what if someone else on your crew breaks a leg?"

"Oh, no," Joel muttered, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. "I can’t be responsible for somethin' like that."

"Then you got your answer. Fuck that guy and his money," you said firmly, a confident, proud smile touching your lips. "You’ll get more deals anyways. No one is better than you in this town, Miller." 

He could practically feel the heavy warmth of your hand on his bicep, and the intoxicating scent of your fancy perfume lingering in his nose. He looked up, blinking hard to snap out of the trance, and stared at Lilly. She was eating her steak completely carefree, smiling to herself, utterly unaware of the absolute chaos crashing through Joel’s chest. 

Unable to take it for another second, he excused himself from the table and went straight to the restroom. His heart was hammering against his ribs. Standing in front of the mirror, his fingers moved entirely on impulse as he pulled out his phone and opened your chat. 

Joel: When? 

He pressed send before his brain could stop him. Your answer came back almost instantly, the notification lighting up his rough palm. 

You: I don’t know. 

Joel: Soon? 

You: Eager much? 

Joel stared at your teasing words, a heavy wave of desperate longing washing over him. His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he typed out the honest truth: i miss you. He looked at the words on the screen for a long, agonizing second, his chest tightening with intense guilt. With a rough sigh, he aggressively hit delete, wiping the confession away. Instead, he forced his walls back up, typing a cold lie. 

Joel: Just wondering… 

He pressed send, his jaw tight. 

You: Want to call? 

Joel swallowed hard, staring at the screen. He closed his eyes, thinking of Lilly waiting for him out at the candlelit table. 

Joel: Can’t now. Tomorrow.

He put his phone back in his pocket, washed his face with cold water and came back to the table.

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Joel became incredibly careless about you, as if some internal filter had completely broken inside him. He just couldn’t stop thinking or talking about you. It wasn’t obvious to Tommy or the rest of the friend group—they had always talked about you anyways—but it was entirely new, and highly alarming, to Lilly. And the absolute worst part was that you weren’t even there for Lilly to visually point at or feel insecure about. It wasn’t like you were physically around, getting in the middle of her relationship. No, it was much worse: her boyfriend was not-so-secretly obsessed with you, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him. Eventually, she got tired. They had only been dating for four months, and she wasn't ready to waste any more of her time like this. 

"You're obsessed with her," Lilly said flatly, her voice dropping as she caught Joel staring blankly at your newest Instagram post. 

"What? No, I ain't. It just popped up on my feed," Joel muttered, trying to shove his phone into his pocket. 

"Don’t lie to me, Joel. Have some decency. You honestly think I haven't noticed it?" 

"You're talkin' nonsense, Lilly," he said, his texan drawl turning tight and defensive. "I only have eyes for you." 

"Yeah... 'cause she ain't here." 

"That’s ain't fair. She's only my friend." 

"Is she?" Lilly challenged, stepping right into his perimeter. "'Cause I can feel her standin' right in the middle of us all the time." 

"That’s crazy." 

"Don’t you dare call me crazy, Joel Miller!" 

"I didn't!" Joel snapped back, his hands flying up. "I'm sayin' the idea is crazy, not you!" 

"Well, that 'idea' is our actual reality. Keep lyin' to yourself if you want, but I’m done." 

Joel froze, his chest heaving under his flannel shirt. "Are you seriously breakin' up with me out of nowhere?" 

"Out of nowhere? Joel, you're cheatin' on me." 

"What? No, I ain't! Here—check my messages," he said desperately, shoving his phone toward her face. "Go ahead." 

"No! I’m not talkin' about that," she cried, shaking her head as a tear escaped. "It’s your heart, Joel. You are completely in love with her, and I will refuse to be anyone's backup plan." 

Joel's heart violently dropped into his stomach. "Lilly... don't say that." 

"I’m so sorry, Joel. I really liked you," she whispered. She grabbed her purse from the counter, spun on her heel, and walked straight out of Joel’s house. 

Joel didn’t even try to stop her. He just stood there, completely frozen in the middle of his empty living room, his phone still tightly gripped in his rough hand. Lilly was right, and he knew it. He fucking knew it. He was completely, utterly obsessed with you—obsessed with the mere memory of you. 

But you weren’t there. Weeks had already passed since you had called him to tell him you were moving back to Austin, and still, absolutely nothing had happened. You hadn't arrived yet. So, in that quiet, suffocating house, he hated you. He hated you for completely ruining his relationship... but mostly, he hated you for ruining him without even trying.

It was early in the morning when he saw the pictures you had posted the night before. It was a carousel of photos from your friend's birthday party at some incredibly expensive New York restaurant. Looking at you looking so stunning and out of reach, Joel could feel his blood boiling inside every single vein of his body. He paced like a caged animal around his living room, desperate, trying to control the suffocating pressure tightening in his chest. 

He felt played by you. And worse, he felt played by himself. 

He sat on the edge of the couch, only to stand up a second later, moving aggressively toward the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He drank it fast, downing it in one go. The freezing water hit his system too quickly, sending a sharp wave of physical pain straight to his brain. 

He cursed under his breath, slammed the glass onto the counter, and without a single second thought, marched back into the living room, grabbing his phone. 

The phone rang once, twice… his heart beating faster with each heavy ring against his ear. 

"Joel?" you said, your voice thick and raspy, clearly waking up. 

"Wanted to ask you somethin'," he said, his texan drawl tight, rough, and completely stripped of its usual warmth. 

"At 8 AM?" You sat up in your bed and rubbed your eyes carefully, the phone pressed to your ear. 

"Are you really comin' back?" he asked fast, cutting straight to the point. 

"Yeah, for the summer." 

"That ain't what I'm askin', and you know it," he corrected you, his tone turning sharp. 

You sigh "The new building there had some structural problems, Joel. I don’t know when they're gonna be finished with it," you explained, trying to handle his sudden intensity. 

Joel nodded to himself in the empty room, a bitter, hollow feeling settling in his stomach. "So you ain't comin' back anytime soon." 

"I'll be there in less than three weeks," you tried to calm the thick tension you could easily feel radiating over the phone. 

"But you’ll leave again right after, won't you?" 

"Yeah... I'm only going for a week. I was thinkin' we could go—"

"Okay, then. Great. Just a week," he interrupted, his voice dropping into a cold, flat register. 

"Is everything okay, Joel?" you asked, completely worried now by his behavior. 

"Yeah. Everything's fine," he lied, his jaw clenching so hard it ached. 

He threw his phone onto the couch the exact second the call ended. He felt so incredibly embarrassed for hoping—for allowing himself to dream about you, about your perfect smile, about how you easily shifted his entire world with just one laugh, and about having your arms wrapped tight around him. And for what? He had just lost his relationship, and you weren’t even coming home for good. The absolute worst part was that you didn’t know a single thing about it. You were completely oblivious to what was happening to him, to his life, or to his ragged feelings, locked away in your fancy New York apartment. 

He hadn't wanted to change around you, but he couldn't stop himself from doing it. His stubborn pride and his messed-up mind were far stronger than anything else. When you finally came down for that short summer week, he did absolutely everything he could to avoid you. And when you two inevitably ended up alone together, he did everything in his power to ignore your presence—even if his heart was beating so violently against his ribs it felt like he was about to have a heart attack, and even if his rough hands only wanted to reach out and pull you close. 

He was fully aware of how bad you were feeling about his coldness. He saw the sharp, burning disappointment in your eyes when you went to hug him and he stepped back, or how he looked away when you were desperately trying to talk to him. He knew he was hurting you, but he was just so damn pissed about the whole situation. And every passing hour only meant you were closer to leaving once again. Again. She’s leaving again. That’s the only thought that kept echoing in his head. 

So, when you didn’t go back to Austin for that next Christmas, he hated you even more. You broke the holiday tradition because your parents were going to visit you up there instead, and you didn't come to see him. Deep down, he knew you probably didn't want to see him after how horribly he had treated you, and he knew it was entirely fair—but you hadn't fought him. You, who were always so brave, honest, and fierce, had just let him be a complete asshole to you, and then you didn't come back to hug him, to flirt, to sit on his lap, or to ask him to visit you anymore. He felt like you only saw him as some convenient backup plan, and he had stuck to that bitter, toxic thought for almost a year.

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"Joel," you said, your voice cracking, completely hurt by his words. "I... I had no idea."

The dim backyard lights made Joel’s rugged features look even more intense than usual. You two were still sitting across from each other, your knees almost touching. He looked down at his own rough hands, completely at a loss for what to do with so much sudden vulnerability. 

"I know," he muttered, his texan drawl low and rough. "It’s embarrassin'."

"I don't think that, Joel."

"Then what do you think? 'Cause right now... I feel too damn ashamed," Joel confessed, his voice heavy with a profound sadness. 

"You should have talked to me."

"How? You were so far away."

"And? Is that your excuse?"

"It ain't an excuse. It’s the truth."

"Joel, you had my number. I was just a ring away."

"You were so much further than that," he whispered, finally looking up to meet your gaze. 

You bit the inner side of your cheek, the silence stretching tightly between you under the stars. "So... you blame me for what happened to Lilly?" you finally asked, the question hurting your throat. 

"No," he said, aggressively shaking his head. "I was a complete asshole for implyin' that earlier. I was just... confused." He took a deep, shaky breath, his chest heaving "How can I even explain it? I had all these damn feelings for you and you weren’t here. So, I kept goin' on with my life, or tryin' to. You weren’t here, but damn... I didn't stop carin'. Lilly was a mistake."

"Don’t say that, Joel."

"I don’t mean it like that," he corrected himself quickly, his grip tightening on your knee as he held onto you like a lifeline. "I mean it was wrong of me to date her when all I really wanted... all I was prayin' for... was for you to come back." Joel squeezed your knee, his dark eyes desperate. "Don’t hate me." 

"I don’t hate you, Joel," you said softly, your heart breaking at the mere implication. "But I just wished you had been honest with me from the start."

He covers his face with both hands “I ruined it, right?”

“Our friendship?” you didn’t want to think too far ahead.

He nodded slowly and then looked up at you, his dark eyes vulnerable. "I was miserable to you," he confessed, his texan drawl thick and heavy with regret. "I couldn’t control what I was feelin'. You must think I’m such a weak man."

"I don't think that," you said softly. A brief pause stretched between you under the porch lights before you added, "But it hurts me that you didn’t think I would care about you."

"You were livin' your best life out there."

"Bullshit. All I do is work and deal with fake people."

"What about the rich men?" 

You scoffed, letting out a genuine laugh. "Don’t tell me you're still thinkin' about Tommy’s stupid joke."

"I’m just a contractor, sweetie," he said softly, looking down at his own calloused palms. 

"Joel, you have a great job. You do truly amazing things with your hands," you corrected him firmly, reaching out to tilt his chin up. "Yes, I make more money, but you are not some homeless guy I have to take care of."

"I can’t get you a Ferrari," he tried to joke, a faint, nervous smirk touching his lips. 

"I hate Ferraris," you laughed, your eyes crinkling. "I like your truck better." 

A soft, breathless smile touched Joel's face. He gently held your hand and guided you forward, pulling you right onto his lap. You sat down on his left leg, his large palm sliding naturally onto your hip, his thumb caressing your skin through your dress. "I could get a better truck."

"For what?" 

"I dunno... I just want you to feel happy."

"A truck won’t make me happy, Joel," you murmured, looking down at his handsome face. "You stoppin' bein' so damn stupid and closed-off... that would make me happy."

He let out a low, rough chuckle, his chest vibrating against yours. "I have to work on that, yeah." He squeezed your hand tightly. "I’m so sorry."

"For what exactly?" 

"For everything. For not bein' honest with you, for projectin' my own stupid insecurities on you, for bein' mean... and for yesterday."

"You regret yesterday?" you asked carefully, your heart skipping a beat as you waited for his answer. 

"No," he whispered, his grip on your hip tightening as he pulled you a fraction closer. "No, I don't regret it. But I should've acted differently. That was our first time together, and I went and acted like a complete bastard."

"Would you keep actin' like a bastard to me?" you asked softly, tilting your head. 

"No," he said firmly, looking straight into your eyes. "It was a huge mistake to act like that. I'm better than that, sweetie. I really am." He spoke with total conviction, his posture relaxing for the first time all night. 

"I believe you." 

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, slowly letting go of your hand only to slide his large, warm palm up to gently cup your jaw. "You deserve so much better than what I gave you." 

"Would you visit me this time?" you tested him, looking up through your eyelashes. 

He nodded surely, his thumb smoothing over your cheekbone. "Yeah. In a heartbeat." 

"Would you wait for me?" you asked, testing him just one last time to be completely sure. 

"What do you mean?" he asked, his dark eyes filling with genuine curiosity. 

"I’m movin' back in the winter," you informed him, a soft smile finally breaking on your face. 

"You mean... for good?" 

You nodded once, holding his gaze. "I just need to finish the semester at the office to move back permanently." 

Joel’s eyes instantly lit up with the news, a sudden, blinding hope washing over his face. "Are you serious?" 

"If everything keeps goin' like it has so far, then yes," you said. After a brief pause, you added, "It could have another delay, though. You know how this goes." 

"I don’t care. I'll wait," he said roughly, his voice thick with emotion as he held your face with both hands, staring at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. "God, sweetie... for you, I'd wait forever." 

Your heart beat fast and heavy against your ribs. Your hand moved instinctively to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his soft hair. "Joel," you murmured against his lips. 

"Tell me, sweetie," he whispered back, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. 

You didn’t answer; you couldn’t. You simply leaned forward, closing the final inch between you to press your lips against his. The kiss was soft, tender, and completely full of all the raw honesty you had just shared under the stars. You slide your tongue to his mouth seeking for more closeness. The feeling of his warm soft tongue sending waves of pleasure to your brain.

He held you tightly with both hands, one locked firmly onto your hip and the other gently cupping your jaw, anchoring you to him like you were the only solid thing left in his world. He was hyper aware of every inch of your body and him, and never felt so right about something.

"Sorry," he muttered against your lips, his deep voice thick with emotion. 

"Make me forgive you," you teased him in a breathless whisper, your hands tightening in the short hair of his nape as you kept kissing him with a sudden, rapidly growing intensity.

You couldn’t stop kissing. You made out for minutes, your lips refusing to break apart from each other as the heat between you flared up again. You didn’t need air, you just needed each other.

"I need you," you moaned against his lips, your hands pulling at his shoulders. 

He looked up at you, taking in how completely flustered you were for him. All his heavy walls were finally down, and you were finally his—maybe not officially just yet, but he knew you wouldn’t play with him like that. Not when every single thing between you felt this damn right. 

He guided you up from his lap, making you stand, and led you by the hand toward the darker, shadowed sideyard of the cabin. "Wished I had a private room for us right about now," he muttered, his texan drawl low and thick with hunger. 

You laughed softly, your skin tingling in the cool night air. "I like it a little risky too." You reached out, grabbing his collar to pull him closer for another deep kiss. You could feel how he was devouring you, tilting his head and angling yours to deep the kiss even more. His hand moving all over your body, exploring and demanding.

"You want me to fuck you right here?" he asked, a rough, teasing edge to his voice as his large hands gripped your waist. 

You nodded needily, completely consumed by him. "Badly." 

He smirked mischievously, his eyes flashing with a sudden, wild possessiveness under the moonlight. He pushed you softly back against the wooden wall of the cabin, crowding your space, and leaned down to kiss you shamelessly. His hand room your thighs and ass, and back to your waist.

His large hands kept moving over your body with a desperate, curious exploration. His intention was crystal clear: he wanted to feel you everywhere. Joel was a deeply passionate man, and right now, he wanted to show you exactly how much passion he had been burying for you all these years. 

He lifted you slightly off the wooden floorboards with his big, powerful arms, pulling you closer. So much closer. The kiss became beautifully messy, wet, and so incredibly needy that you felt like melting was only the beginning. You wanted him so bad. So freaking badly. You nipped his lip and kiss him again. He smirked at the nip, loving the boldness of you.

Your heart was racing so fast you were absolutely sure he could feel it pounding violently against his own chest. And he could—he could feel the frantic rush of your heart, the intoxicating heat of your body, and the slick feeling of your sweat against his bare skin. Every single time he kissed you, every time his rough palms grazed your skin, your brain couldn’t stop playing a loop of old memories in the back of your head. 

And each one of them dragged you straight to this exact moment: the quiet memory of when he had held your hand tightly at your grandma’s funeral; the way he had gently kissed your cheek after that guy from college had broken your heart into pieces; the fierce, unyielding way he had held you whenever you felt like living so far away in the city was just too damn hard to bear. And finally, the haunting, soft way he always looked at you whenever you were sitting right there in his passenger seat. 

Joel fucking Miller, you thought, your mind spinning. Joel with his broad chest and his rare, kind smile. Those lovely dark eyes that could turn so intense and hard when he wanted. His deep, low laugh whenever you made some dumb joke. The intoxicating smell of him—the heavy scent of his cologne and his warm sweat on you. 

He slid his hands down, lifting the fabric of your summer dress up your thighs, and gently but firmly guided you to face the cabin wall. "Let me see you," he said. His voice wasn't harsh, but it was thick with a heavy, unyielding determination. 

You did exactly what he told you to do; you would have done absolutely anything he wanted right now. 

He looked you up and down under the silver moonlight, his breathing ragged. His lips moved down to press a hot, lingering kiss into the crook of your shoulder while his hands explored the smooth curve of your back, your waist, and finally locked onto your ass. His fingers dug into your flesh, spreading you slightly. "You really want me to fuck you right here, sweetie?" 

"Do you really have to ask?" you whispered back over your shoulder, your voice trembling with anticipation. 

He smirked at your defiance, the sound of his low chuckle vibrating against your back as he reached down to unbuckle his belt. You rested both of your palms flat against the wooden wall, just listening to the sharp, metal clinking of his movement, feeling completely dizzy with want.

You felt both of his hands slide onto your hips, and when you looked over your shoulder to meet his eyes, you saw him lowering himself behind you.

"What are you doin'?" you asked, your voice trembling.

"Want to taste you," he murmured, his deep voice thick with hunger.

He pulled your panties down slowly, enjoying the raw exposure of your bare ass to the moonlight. With one firm palm, he guided your hips to bend a little more, exposing the wet folds of your pussy right in front of his face. He didn’t say anything at first; he was completely, lustfully speechless. He couldn’t believe for a fraction of a second that he actually had you like this, completely surrendered to him. He breathed in your intoxicating scent and moved his rough fingers to explore you with care, his sudden touch making you gasp out loud against the wall.

"Such a pretty pussy," he muttered to himself, his thumb rubbing over your swollen folds. "Look at you."

"You like the view?" you teased him through a breathless moan.

"I’ll be dreamin' about this view from now on," he smiled against your skin.

He leaned in and teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, tasting your sweetness for the very first time. The taste was completely intoxicating in the best way possible, and he could feel the hunger growing like a wild animal inside his chest.

"God, you taste so damn good," he growled, before diving deeper, his tongue lapping at your wet entrance.

He held your hips in a vice-like grip so you couldn't move away from the intense pleasure. He was completely lost in your taste, and the view of you bent like that, with your ass right in his face, was everything he didn’t know he desperately needed. His tongue moved over and over against your wet core as he slid a finger deep inside you to add even more pleasure. And it worked—you had to bite your lower lip raw just to contain the loud, undone moans you felt like letting out. He closed his eyes, entirely focused on the heavy friction of your clit against his tongue and the addictive sounds filling his ears: his own wet licks and your breathless, desperate moans. He sucked on your sweet spot with the perfect amount of pressure. Your hands had to grip the wooden wall firmly so you wouldn't lose your balance, but you were absolutely certain you wouldn't fall because Joel’s heavy grip on your hips was unyielding. 

You could hear everything in the quiet night air: the soft, guttural hums he let out against your pussy, the slick sound of his finger moving in and out of you. With your eyes closed, every single sound felt amplified, echoing straight to your core. You finally looked over your shoulder and were met with the most lustful view you had ever seen: Joel, kneeled right behind you, with his face completely buried in your ass. In that exact second, you were absolutely certain you would never, ever be able to forget this.

Before you could reach your peak, he stood back up, his breathing ragged as he settled his heavy body right between your thighs. The thick tip of his cock was already slick and glistening with warm precum. You were so incredibly wet and ready for him that he didn’t even have to push hard to get inside. And when he finally hit deep, buried to the absolute hilt inside you, a loud, undone cry ripped from your throat, echoing into the quiet night. 

He immediately clamped his large palm over your mouth, keeping your cries quiet so no one inside the cabin would hear you, and that raw restriction just turned you on even more. He fucked you hard and deep, a relentless, punishing rhythm against the wooden wall. His free hand moved down, his rough fingers rubbing aggressively against your clit to drive you over the edge. This had to be fast, and he wanted you both to hit the climax together. 

His breath was hot against your neck, and every now and then, he would slide just the tip of his tongue along your skin to taste you. 

"Salty," he praised, his deep voice growling against your skin before he pressed another rough kiss into your shoulder. 

Your skin was completely glistening with sweat. The stifling Texas weather, the intense physical exertion, and Joel’s own suffocating heat pressed against your back were making you feel like a walking oven. The thin straps of your summer dress finally slipped down your arms, exposing your bare breasts to the night air. When Joel saw your nipples fully exposed under the moonlight, the massive arm that was locked across your waist moved up, his large palm aggressively cupping and squeezing your bouncing tit. He was completely lost in the rhythm of fucking you. Each heavy thrust was deep, hard, and agonizingly perfect, feeling like both a punishment and a reward all at once. 

Those last heavy thrusts were lethal; you felt the air completely leave your lungs with every single hit. Just as you were about to shatter and hit your climax, he pulled your head back by your hair to kiss you deeply, swallowing your undone moans—which completely broke his own restraint, making him come right along with you, spilling his heavy, warm seed deep inside your tight core.

Your face rested against the wooden wall as you desperately tried to recover your breath. With a heavy, ragged sigh, he finally pushed himself out of you. You slowly turned around, leaning your back against the logs to meet his dark, blown-out eyes. 

"Fucking animal," you said, a breathless, satisfied smirk tugging at your lips. 

"You fucking love it, don't ya'?" he defended himself, a smug grin flashing beneath his stubble as he zipped up his jeans and buckled his belt. 

"Gonna make you eat my pussy more often," you teased, your eyes locked onto his as you reached down to fix the hem of your summer dress. 

"Is that a promise, darlin'?" He stepped right back into your space, his large hands finding your waist once more as he leaned down to steal one last deep, lingering kiss.

“Lord, I’m One…Lord, I’m Two,” a voice surfaces somewhere from behind, but it is shrouded from visibility in the dense meadow. 

“Lord, I’m Three...Lord I’m Four…” 

 “Lord, I'm five hundred miles from my home,” the melody continues just as Joel pauses to scan the field, and a bare foot bobs up from between the sea of green blades.

 “Five hundred miles—” 

He quickens his stride, weaving through the waist-high bluestems.

“Five hundred miles, Five hundred miles, Five hundred mi—” He interrupts mid-verse, parting the verdant wall to discover Inga outstretched beneath him. The strap of her cotton smock, sagging lazily from one shoulder. 

Blinking against the sun, the bridge of her freckle-dusted nose creases as she tries to make out his expression. 

“What?” She smiles, propping herself onto her elbows.

“And just what the hell are you doin’ all the way out here by yourself?” 

“You know…figured I could go for a stroll—”

“Without so much as a knife?” Joel interjects, the absence of gear dawning on him before the rest of her answer can follow. He shakes his head, gesturing blankly to the flattened grass, “—Inga, come on. You can’t be this reckless.”

“Of course not,” she perks. “I saw you make a detour off of the northwestern trail, so I figured I stood a fighting chance.” 

“And what fighting chance is that?” he huffs out in disbelief, “That I’d sweep in guns blazin’ to save you?”

 “Oh, come on. Don’t get all sour on me now, Joel—” Inga chuckles. “Think of what Peter, Paul and Mary would have to say.”

“Inga. You weren’t even born in the same decade as that release—”

“It sounds to me like you’ve proven the very point I was going to make,” she smirks with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes,“Only an old geezer like you could be lulled over—”

But Joel hurdles into the firing range—snaking his hands through the crowd of green blades until Inga is wrestled into his arms. He lets out a breathless laugh, taken by her sincere ear-to-ear grin. How easy it felt to hold her like this without doubts. 

Caught beneath the hem of her dress, he brushes his thumb along the rise of her thigh—and Inga stills, gazing up into his dark backlit lashes. The late-August heat wafts slowly overhead, amplifying the hummingbird thrum of every alive and real thing that bats beneath her skin. Then, after a steadier breath, he adjusts his touch a fraction and pulls back to just stare.

“Mia’s with the kid…” she mutters, eyeing him.“If that’s what you were wondering...”

“Wasn’t the first question that came to mind…” he yields, tugging her closer. “And exactly how long have you been out here playin' clicker-bait?” 

“Well, that’s kind of between me and Peter-Paul-Mary.”  

“Not polite for you to pull those folks into your private affairs—”

“Oh, so now you’re worried about being polite?”

He exhales through his nose, failing to steer towards higher ground. Except Inga doesn’t seem intent on letting him off easy anyhow.

“Fine...” She sighs theatrically, before softening her voice to a whisper, “Since you really oughta—”

But Joel knows better than to give her breathy nuisance a shot at stealing the last inch between their lips.

As he strode past the stables on his way back from the tool shed—a scurrying, small-bodied flash, suddenly zipped out of the corner of Joel’s eye, hauling him to a stop. Between the pile of hay stacked outside of the stables, and the ominous shadows lurking from within, the hiding spot felt all too obvious—mostly, for reasons having to do with age, than any tactical logic. And when Joel decides to brave another foot towards the heap, he watches as the tiny conspirator burrows deeper into the straw with a muffled giggle, disappearing into some great secret. His tangle of dark curls, unknowingly caught between the golden spindles—along with the book spine poking out from the base of the pile. 

He figured the crunch of the sun-baked dirt would be loud enough to alert Inga to his arrival, but even her mind seemed to be adrift—focused entirely on working the wide-toothed comb between the horse’s mane. He paused to watch the late afternoon breeze kick up the loose strands of hair in soft whispers, but after she'd felt him watching her quietly for long enough, she turned to acknowledge him.

Joel leaned his back against the barn’s exterior, folding his arms across his chest.

“Kid gave me a look…”

“Oh?” Inga slowed mid-brush. “And exactly what kind of look are we dealing with here?”

“Like I was interruptin’ some covert operation,” Joel pulled his brows together in thought. “Real conspiratorial...wouldn’t be surprised if he’s drawin’ up battle plans in broad daylight.”

She laughed shaking her head as she eased the strap buckle into place, and after another minute Joel sidled up beside her—tucking the stray flyaways back behind her ear with a reminiscing look. He glanced behind him once more as a precaution, before meeting her with a softer tone, “Somehow, I’ve never managed to ask you about the name…”

Parting the chestnut-colored mane into thirds, Inga blinked away at the gate as she answered, “Sol…it means sun in Latin.” But a hesitation hovered behind the words. As if describing the entirety of what his being meant, was too great of a task, even for her. “—But more than that,” she decides,“He is my light. Out of the darkness.”

Joel stood stunned, unsure of what to say. 

“Not because Noah’s love had died with him. In that…place. It seeped into Sol. Into all of us."

"Like the sun.” 

Inga nodded, reaching to brush a small spec of dirt from his cheek, keeping her gaze fixed on him as she rose to press an unhurried kiss up to his lips—collapsing twenty-one years of grief, into one sure breath. Into a woman who'd chosen him against every impossibility. At every juncture. After death. And even in their afterlife mess of a world.  

“—So that’s why Joel always looks at Mommy funny,” a small voice piped up from the tussled straw. 

Inga turned sharply in its direction as Sol’s head surfaced, grinning, ear to ear.

“A-ha!” she gasped diving into the heap and swooped his tiny frame into her arms. “And don’t you think you’re getting away with whatever scheme you were cooking!”

“Mommy!” Sol giggled uncontrollably in her arms, “I surrender!—I surrender!"

“Too late!” Inga nuzzled another kiss into the crook of his neck. “Should’ve picked a better hiding spot!”

Joel smiled watching the lifelines seep from both ends. How Sol’s dot-speckled nose scrunched in the same ways his mother’s did. An elasticity that sprung forth through those clumsy curls. Because even if it was just a flickered moment—the world had not robbed them of this one truth. Of something unrestricted by aftermath. From the battered seams of this earth. From sores and open-faced wounds that were perpetually caught between becoming and being split anew. Reaching through. If only, inch by fragile inch, out of a millennia of microcosms. Out of feeble half-truths, where all matter would eventually return to bone and soil. To dust. But how many of those years could exist suspended outside of those odds, was no longer important. So he crossed the distance to pull them both into reach. 

Because so long as he was here, the shape of this unconditional light could still be held between them.

Signed Dearly,