Chapter Text
Okay so, I wanted to give important information first before you read the whole fanfic but Author’s note have limited word count so I’m directing it here and didn’t want to ruin the chapter count just for this announcement. Please READ. My response to that one girl that kept complaining about how sexual or how much she dislike my fanfic but still kept reading it. Like it fucking pisses me off that I just blocked her and muted her Ao3 Account. If you don’t feel being here then you don’t need to be here? No one is forcing you or telling you to still keep reading my fanfic. @montezumared
Okay, so to make things easier. I would make a change of the whole fanfic which technically is Y/N’s age timeline.
She escaped from her father at the age of 16, started living in Jackson by 19 and celebrated a 21st birthday at her brother’s settlement, Which is Wilson.
I won’t add a chapter of those changes, Will just add details of Y/N’s everyday living.
Well, as you can see I’ve already put a warning in the title of this Ao3 especially the tags.
People are expecting HIGH expectations from me. Wanting my work and my words to be perfect in every way.
What can I say? No one is perfect at everything.
Most people didn’t mind about Y/N’s age timeline each chapter, but some people did not like what I was making Joel like.
Now, SOME people want me to make a such perfect chapter that they have high expectations of this fanfic..
Why would you expect that much from a first-time fanfic writer?
It’s not like I’m the one testing the waters here.
I’m writing exactly what I put in the tags. If you have a problem with it, then why continue reading? Please read the warnings and tags first before complaining about how the storyline is going.
I clearly don’t want to disappoint my readers when it comes to what I put in the tags, right? I write exactly what the story is based on.
Some people are highly offended by how “sexual” my fanfic is… when it’s clearly stated in the AO3 tags. It pisses me off in a way I can’t explain.
It’s like complaining that your food is too spicy when you’re the one who added the hot sauce, you just didn’t read the label because you assumed it was normal seasoning.
Try being a Writer.
When all you have as a Reader is judgement and criticism.
The comment section aren’t for argumentative fights.
Don’t expect so much to me as you said you have high hopes for this. And me doing better for you? Nonsense by the way.
I write the way I like, and people like it too.
It’s not like you pay me to write for you? Just to fix everything that makes you uncomfortable for this fanfic?
Go buy your own author to write for you, because we both know that you don’t belong reading my fanfic.
Here is the start of the Fanfic! </3
You weren’t that smart or matured, at least, that’s what your father made you believe. You were nothing in his eyes, but innocent and uneducated.
You grew up behind locked doors and boarded windows, more like a shadow in your own home than a daughter. Your dad cared about his drugs and alcohols more than you.
Long before the outbreak turned the world cruel, your life had already been that way — small, quiet and trapped. You never learned to read nor write properly, You never got to dream about school, or friends, or even Love.
One night of the starting Winter, You finally found the courage to escape your nightmare. You ran from your father’s house with your backpack with your stuff and foods, It should be enough to last you longer until you find a settlement or a place to stay.
You wore your rubber shoes, denim pants and tee shirt with a sweater and fear in your chest and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.
Time was running, but you waited for the right time. You checked your father on the living room, He had fallen asleep on the couch. You remembered how he always forgets to lock the door at night.
He was always threatening you that once you go outside, He will try to find you, Only try.
The light of the television flickered on his figure. Shattered bottles, pills and injections on the floor that you can’t name.
You managed to make your way out of the front door, Your hands were shaking and your body was trembling. Out of fear, You can’t help but feel guilty and sad about leaving your dad behind, But he’s too.. much.
The door creaked open and you ran away from the house, not even caring to close the door, passing through houses, You slowed your pace when you felt you were far enough.
You find yourself in the woods, it swallowed you whole — cold, endless, and unfamiliar. You didn’t know where to go. You were helpless, hopeless… naive.
You would see blood, dead bodies on the ground, It made you feel sick. Thankfully you didn’t get any dangerous encounters while you were on your way.
You didn’t know what was going on this world anymore. You thought to yourself, If you hadn’t runaway from your father.. He will keep you locked up forever. You didn’t want that.
After days of wandering, weak and hungry. You found Jackson by accident or maybe fate led you there. You stumbled upon tall metal gates surrounded by guards with rifles slung over their shoulders.
You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t. You were so scared, Thinking they might already shoot you. Your throat was too tight, your lips trembling too much to form a sentence.
Luckily, one of the men with an understanding expression, his voice soft, stepped forward first and told men to lower their weapons. “Hey now, It’s alright,” he said while trying to approach you.
You only stared back, With your eyes wide, eyebrows worried, Your face says it all. You thought anyone that has a weapon is a bad person, clutching the strap of your bag like it was the only thing keeping you standing.
He then asked, “Why don’t you come inside so that we can settle down? Yeah?” While guiding you inside of the gates.
As he walked you inside, Guards were staring at you. People were whispering and talking, You know that they were talking about you but you just can’t prove it.
The man introduced himself to you, “I’m Tommy, and you are?”
You mumbled your name softly, with your weak voice.
“Great, Are you okay? Hurt?” As he tried to look for any sign of bites, If you were infected or good to go.
You shook your head, Showing your arms and legs to him to prove that you weren’t like one of those things. He let out a sigh, it sounded relieved.
That man was Tommy Miller. He was patient, calm. He was talking about offering you food and water, a place to rest and for the first time in a long while, You imagined having a peace of mind in your own space.
Later, He brought you inside his house for some talking and to get you warmed up. After you’d been warmed by fire and the hum of quiet voices, Tommy is standing across from you, his hands resting on his waist
He asked gentle questions, where you came from, how long you’d been on the road, if you had anyone waiting for you. It wasn’t like a strict interrogation, it was kindness dressed up as caution.
When you managed to answer, haltingly, he gave a small nod. “You’re safe here, alright? But there’s someone I’d like you to meet. My brother, Joel. He helps me run things around here.”
Tommy asked you to wait by the fire as he and Joel stepped outside. The door creaked, and their voices were low. You couldn’t hear much, just bits carried by the wind.
“Kid looks barely twenty,” Joel muttered. “Ain’t our responsibility to take in every stray that shows up at the gate.”
Tommy scoffed, “She’s not a stray,” in a firmly tone. “She’s just… scared, Joel. You can see that exactly in her eyes.”
Joel grunted. “I saw someone scared once. Whole damn world’s scared now, Tommy. We can’t save everybody.”
Tommy’s voice softened. “This ain’t about savin’. It’s about givin’ her a chance. She don’t talk much, probably ain’t had reason to. But she’s tryin’. Maybe she just needs a bit of normal again.”
There was silence after that. Joel’s jaw tightening, his eyes narrowing like he was fighting with himself and when they finally came inside, You saw them.
They don’t look like brothers at all, but up-close you see some resemblance. A rugged man who looked like the world took everything from him, Like he’d seen too much. He didn’t smile. He also didn’t speak right away.
He just studied you with those dark, steady eyes that felt like they could see every scar you tried to hide.
“This here’s my grumpy old brother” Tommy said while chucking, nudging his arm but he didn’t seemed happy about it.
You just nodded faintly, still too afraid to speak though something about the man’s silence felt strangely familiar.
“Name’s Joel.” He said before picking a cup of coffee, drinking it, his adam’s apple showing how fast he chugged it all.
“Joel..” You tried to pronounce, your voice barely more than a whisper.
He glanced at you then, just for a moment. “Mm.”
You sat across from the two men at the small wooden table, a mug of warm tea between your hands.
The fire crackled softly behind you, filling the silence that seemed to feel intense by the eye contact of the brothers.
Tommy leaned forward a bit, elbows on his knees while sitting. “So,” he started gently, “how’d you find your way here, darlin’? Jackson ain’t exactly on a map anymore.”
You hesitated. “I—I just kept walking,” you said quietly, eyes fixed on the mug. “I saw the lights one night… thought it was another camp.”
Joel’s voice cut in, deep and rough. “You came all the way through the forest alone?”
You nodded.
He exchanged a look with Tommy, his brows furrowed. “You’re lucky you didn’t freeze out there, or worse.”
Tommy shot him a small glare, as if to remind him not to sound so harsh. “What he means is, it’s good you made it, kid. Ain’t many do.”
You smiled faintly, unsure whether it was okay to. “Thank you.”
They asked a few more things — where you were from, if you had anyone left, if you knew how to handle a gun. You answered what you could, though most of your words came out soft and uncertain.
Joel didn’t press. He just listened, every now and then giving a small grunt that could’ve meant anything.
“So Kid, You look so young.. How old are ya?” Tommy asked.
You gulped and look down on the floor, refusing to look in his eyes. “I.. am 16..”
Joel scoffed, “You look younger than that, Are you sure you’re not lying?” He was not buying it.
“I—.. promise.”
Tommy interrupted, “Aw, C’mon Joel.. Maybe she just has some good genes yeah?” He said with a laugh.
You titled your head and looked at him confused, “Jeans..? What’s that?”
Tommy froze mid-laugh, looking at you like he’d just realized something. “Uh—yeah, it just means like… uh… your family, your bloodline, makes you look younger.”
You frowned slightly. “My family gave me jeans?”
Joel’s mouth twitched and for the first time, he almost smiled. “Not those kinda jeans, kid. Not the ones you wear.”
“Oh,” you said softly, cheeks warming as you looked down. “Sorry. I don’t really know that stuff.” Joel noticed the way you got shyly embarrassed.
Tommy cleared his throat gently. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. We just talk too much nonsense sometimes.”
Joel looked at you for a moment longer, quieter now. “You ever go to school?”
You shook your head. “No.. never.. My… my dad didn’t let me.”
That got another shared look between the brothers, one you couldn’t quite read.
Tommy leaned forward, voice softer now. “Well, you’re safe here. You can learn all that later if you want. Ain’t no rush.”
Joel didn’t say anything, but the way his jaw shifted told you he was thinking something. Maybe pity. Maybe understanding.
You just nodded, clutching your hands together. “Thank you.”
Tommy smiled. “See? Already got good manners. You’ll fit right in, kid.”
“Alright, sweetheart, don’t mind me askin’, but we just gotta know what you can do around here. Y’know, skills and such. Helps us figure out where you’ll fit best.”
You blinked, unsure how to answer. “Skills?”
Joel exhaled through his nose. “He means… what kinda work you know how to do.”
“Oh…” You looked down at your hands “I can cook a little… clean… sometimes I take care of kids. My neighbors used to leave theirs with me before…”
Tommy nodded, scribbling something down. “Babysittin’, huh? That’s somethin’ we could use. Folks here got kids who could use a hand now and then.”
You nodded quickly, a small flicker of pride crossing your face. “And I—I know a little about plants. Flowers, mostly. My mother used to keep a garden.”
Joel glanced at you then, the slightest arch in his brow. “You like gardenin’?”
“Yes, sir. It’s… quiet. Makes me feel safe.”
Tommy grinned. “Well, ain’t that somethin’. We got greenhouses here. Maybe you can help out there, too.”
Joel looked down at Tommy. muttering, “Cookin’, cleanin’, watchin’ kids, gardenin’… sounds like she’s gonna run half the town.”
Tommy chuckled, nudging him with his elbow. “Don’t sound so grumpy, big brother. You could learn a thing or two from her.”
You tilted your head, puzzled. “Grumpy?”
That made Tommy laugh harder. Joel groaned. “Don’t start.”
You blinked between them, still confused, and Joel exhaled sharply like he was trying not to smile.
Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, eyes narrowing not in judgment, but in thought. “Ain’t nothin’ to scoff at. Most folks here could use help with that.”
Tommy grinned. “See? Even Joel’s impressed. That’s a miracle right there.”
You looked up at him, hesitant but a little curious. “You don’t… really seem impressed.”
Joel’s lips twitched, like he was fighting back a smirk. “You’ll learn that’s just how I look.”
That made Tommy laugh out loud. “He’s right. Been lookin’ like that since the day I was born.”
You couldn’t help but let out a tiny, nervous laugh and Joel noticed. His eyes softened, just a little.
Tommy closed the clipboard with a clap. “Alright, kiddo. That’s good enough for now. You did great.”
You nodded shyly. “Thank you.”
He stood up and stretched. “I’ll show ya ‘round in a bit. Joel’ll come by tomorrow morning, bring ya somethin’ to eat, maybe show you the greenhouse or the kitchens. That sounds good?”
You nodded and Joel shot his brother a quick look. “I will?”
Tommy grinned. “Sure you will. You got nothin’ better to do other than sit ya ass and drink coffee.”
You smiled faintly, trying not to meet Joel’s eyes. But when you finally did, he wasn’t frowning anymore. Just studying you quietly.
“Fine,” he muttered, standing up too. “See you in the mornin’, kid.”
Inside, you kept your hands close to the fire, warming your fingers. The air smelled faintly of smoke and coffee. You tried not to listen, but every word that drifted through the cracks in the wood felt heavier than it should’ve been.
Tommy was the first to speak. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said kindly, crouching down a bit so you didn’t have to look up so far. “We’ll find you a room for now. Ain’t much, but it’s warm. You’ll get your own bed, kitchen, bathroom and some food, a roof. Sound good?”
You nodded quickly, eyes darting to Joel — the quiet man standing in the doorway, arms crossed. He was watching again. Not cruelly. Just… carefully.
Tommy noticed your hesitation and smiled a little. “Don’t mind him. He’s just slow to warm up.”
Joel sighed through his nose, He hummed low, the sound unreadable. Then, quietly “You stay close to us for now. We’ll sort things out.”
You nodded again, clutching the blanket Tommy had draped over your shoulders. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t trust your voice to say it right anyway.
As you followed Tommy toward the door, you glanced back once. Joel was still standing there, the firelight catching his face in amber and shadow. His expression hadn’t changed, but something in his eyes. The flicker of quiet understanding lingered with you long after you left the room.
The next morning came with a soft knock on your door. When you opened it, the smell of ham and eggs and coffee hit you first, then the sight of Joel Miller standing awkwardly on your porch, holding two tin plates and a cup in one hand.
“Mornin’,” he muttered, eyes flicking away as if to make sure no one saw him there. “Tommy said you probably ain’t had breakfast yet.”
You blinked, surprised, but smiled a little. “Oh—uh… thank you, Mr. Miller.”
He cleared his throat. “Eat before it gets cold.”
He followed you inside and stood by the doorway at first, then finally sat down across from you. You could feel his eyes on you every few moments—curious, watchful, like he was trying to figure out what kind of person you were.
You tried to eat quietly, but the silence felt heavy. Every time your fork clinked against the plate, you risked a small glance up at him.
He caught one of those glances and huffed softly through his nose. “You eat like a damn rabbit.”
Your lips parted in confusion. “Rabbit?”
“Means you’re too quiet,” he said, voice rough but not unkind. “Ain’t gotta be scared. Ain’t nobody gonna take your food here.”
You looked down again, shyly. “Sorry.”
Joel sighed, leaning back in the chair. Man spreading. “Don’t apologize so much.”
You nodded then froze halfway through another bite when he said it, almost like a thought that slipped out before he realized.
“Y’know,” he murmured, eyes softening, “you’d get along with my girls.”
Your head tilted slightly, surprised. “Your… girls?”
He nodded, a quiet warmth flickering in his expression. “Sarah’s 11 and Ellie’s 13. They’re different as night and day, but… you remind me of both somehow.”
You smiled a little, hesitant but genuine. “They sound… nice.”
Joel’s mouth twitched, just barely. “They are. Sarah’d probably drag you to her room to play and Ellie’d talk facts about dinosaurs and space.”
You tilted your head, studying him carefully. “You must be… proud.”
His eyes softened even more at that—small lines creasing the corners of them. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I am. You will meet them later.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. He just sat there, watching you finish your breakfast, something unreadable but gentle in his gaze.
When you pushed your plate away, Joel stood, collecting both dishes and muttering, “I’ll take these back to the kitchens.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he paused by the door.
“You can come by the stables later,” he said, pretending it was casual. “Could use a hand with feedin’ the horses. Figured you might like somethin’ quieter than the kitchens.”
You smiled softly. “Okay, Mr. Miller.”
He nodded once, then left. Though if you’d been standing by the window, you might’ve seen how long he lingered outside before walking away.
The stables smelled faintly of hay and dust, sunlight spilling through cracks in the wooden slats. Horses huffed softly from their stalls, their tails flicking lazily as Joel leaned against a post, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He’d been showing you how to refill the feed troughs, patient but still using that gruff tone like he was trying not to sound too gentle.
“Wow, they are so big..” You amazingly said and your expression says it all.
“You’ve never seen a horse before?” He asked with pride.
You shook your head as you started to feed them.
“Not too much,” he said, watching you pour the grain. “They’ll eat themselves sick if you let ‘em.”
You nodded quickly, concentrating on every movement like it was a lesson you couldn’t afford to fail. He noticed how careful you were, and something about that tugged at him—quietly, deep down.
Then, a familiar voice piped up from the doorway.
“Hey, Dad! Thought you were gonna show me how to fix the fence today!”
Joel looked up. “Sarah,” he greeted, voice softening just a little. “Got company today.”
Sarah grinned when she saw you, brushing back a loose strand of hair. “Oh, so you’re the one Dad’s been talking about last night, I’m Sarah.”
You smiled shyly, wiping your hands on your shirt before waving. “Hi.”
“Don’t be shy,” she said warmly. “Dad said you were gonna live here and help us! That’s impressive. Most people around here get kicked at least once.”
Joel rolled his eyes. “I said almost kicked, not—”
Sarah smirked. “Sure, sure.” Then she turned back to you, her tone dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “You know… I think we’d be great friends.”
You blinked, startled but touched. “Friends?”
She nodded brightly. “Yeah! You seem nice. And Dad always likes the people I like, so you’re safe.”
Joel, who’d been adjusting a saddle behind her, froze mid-motion. “Sarah,” he warned under his breath.
“What?” she said innocently. “I’m just sayin’ she’s nice!”
You hid a small smile behind your hand, watching the way Joel tried to scowl but couldn’t quite manage it.
Sarah leaned closer to you, lowering her voice just enough for him to hear. “He pretends to be grumpy, but he’s just shy.”
Joel groaned. “Alright, that’s enough.”
“See?” Sarah teased, laughing as he glared half-heartedly. “Told you. Totally shy.”
You giggled softly, and for a second, Joel’s expression softened—just a flicker, but enough to make Sarah grin wider.
“Best friends!” she declared proudly, looping her arm through yours. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Joel muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, God help me, but the corner of his mouth curved up as he turned away.
By the time the sun began to dip behind the mountains, the stables were quiet again. You’d finished your chores, hands sore and smelling faintly of hay and soap. Sarah had run off to help Ellie with something by the barn, leaving you alone to tidy up the last bit of feed.
When you stepped outside, the cool air brushed your cheeks. The sky had gone a pale lavender, and the settlement lights of Jackson were flickering on one by one. You didn’t expect to see Joel waiting by the fence, leaning on it with that usual tired stance — arms crossed, jaw tight like he was thinking too much.
He looked up when you approached. “Y’done?”
You nodded, clutching your jacket closer. “Yes..”
He gave a slow nod, then glanced off toward the town. “Sarah told me you haven’t really had a proper dinner since you got here,” he said, voice low but steady. “Figured maybe you’d wanna join us tonight. Nothin’ fancy, just a home meal.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “With… with you?”
“Me, Tommy, Ellie, Sarah,” he clarified quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“We always eat together on Sundays. Thought maybe you’d, uh… like to come ‘round. Get to know folks better.”
The words came out gruff, but you could hear the warmth tucked behind them — awkward, hesitant warmth, like he wasn’t used to inviting anyone into his space.
“I—I’d like that,” you said softly.
He nodded once, but his eyes lingered on you a moment longer before he spoke again. “Alright then. Six o’clock. Don’t be late. Sarah’ll give me hell if I start without you.”
You smiled faintly, and for the first time, Joel almost smiled back.
That evening, Tommy’s house was filled with the sound of laughter, old records, and the smell of something cooking — stew, maybe, and bread that Ellie had clearly burned once and tried to save.
Tommy greeted you first, wide grin on his face. “Well, look who Joel actually invited to dinner. That’s a first.”
Joel shot him a glare. “Shut it.”
Ellie waved from the table, spoon in her mouth. “Hey! We saved you a spot. Sarah wouldn’t let us touch your bowl ‘til you got here.”
Sarah beamed, patting the seat beside her. “Come sit next to me! Dad was just telling Tommy you used to feed the horses faster than he does.”
Joel groaned quietly, muttering, “Never said that.”
You hid your smile as you sat down, the warmth of the fire and their chatter filling the room. For the first time in years, maybe ever, you didn’t feel like an outsider — just someone at the table, belonging.
And Joel? He kept sneaking little glances your way. Soft ones, quiet ones. Like he couldn’t help himself.
The table was covered in all sorts of things — roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, a pot of soup that smelled like garlic and thyme, and a plate of pasta that Ellie insisted she made “mostly by herself.”
“Mostly,” Joel muttered under his breath, earning a nudge from her.
You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound almost surprising even to yourself. Sarah noticed and smiled wide, like she’d been waiting for that.
“See?” she said proudly. “Told you she’d like our cooking!”
Tommy chuckled as he passed you a basket of bread. “Careful, darlin’. Compliment Ellie’s pasta too much and she’ll start thinkin’ she’s ready to open a restaurant.”
“I am ready,” Ellie said, waving her fork. “Jackson’s first post-apocalypse chef. You’ll all see.”
The room filled with laughter again. You didn’t speak much, but you didn’t have to, the warmth between them all made space for you. Every time you reached for something, Joel’s hand would hover nearby, ready to help even when you didn’t need it.
He’d offer you the best piece of meat, refill your glass before it was empty, and when you said quiet thank-yous, he’d just nod, trying not to show that little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
At one point, Sarah leaned against his shoulder, whispering something that made him glance toward you — a small, soft look that lasted a little too long before he cleared his throat and looked away.
“Ellie,” Tommy said, cutting through the quiet. “Why don’t you tell her about the time Joel tried to cook?”
“No,” Joel warned, already rubbing his temple.
“Oh, it’s a good one,” Ellie grinned. “He tried making soup last winter and ended up burnin’ the bottom so bad we had to toss the whole pot. Said it was ‘extra flavor.’”
Tommy burst out laughing, Sarah hid her face behind her hands, and you smiled wide this time, enough that Joel caught it, and for just a heartbeat, his rough exterior softened completely.
He shook his head, defeated, muttering, “Never gonna live that down.”
The rest of the night passed in warmth and easy conversation. The fire crackled low, the air smelled faintly of wood and herbs, and for the first time since the world had fallen apart, you felt safe.
And Joel, even in his silence, looked like a man realizing that safety wasn’t such a bad thing to share.
You lingered in the kitchen a little longer than the others after dinner, rinsing your hands under the sink. The water was warm, the soap faintly floral — one of those handmade bars Sarah said she got from a trader last month.
The room was quiet except for the gentle clink of dishes and the faint crackle of the fire from the living room. You didn’t realize Joel was still there until you caught the sound of his boots against the wood floor behind you.
“Y’need help with somethin’?” His voice was low, steady — that kind of tone that always sounded more like a statement than a question.
You shook your head quickly, drying your hands on a towel. “No, Sir. I’m just… finishing up.”
He frowned faintly. “Ain’t gotta call me sir all the time.”
You turned a little, meeting his eyes for a heartbeat before looking back down at the sink. “It’s… habit,”
He didn’t reply right away. Just stood there for a moment, arms crossed, gaze following the way your hands fidgeted with the towel.
Then, softer “You did good tonight. Kids like you. Tommy too.”
You blinked, surprised. “Oh… thank you.”
Joel gave a small nod, glancing toward the dining table before back to you. “Don’t let ‘em talk your ear off too much. They’ll keep ya up if you let ‘em.”
You smiled, shy and small. “I don’t mind.”
He hummed quietly, almost like he was about to say something else but didn’t. Instead, he stepped in closer, his hand brushing past your arm as he tapped off the sink you’d forgotten to shut fully. The lightest touch, enough to make your breath hitch.
Joel froze for half a second, not pulling away right away, but not moving closer either. Then he cleared his throat, stepped back, and muttered, “C’mon. They’re waitin’ in the living room.”
You nodded, following him out — still feeling the faint warmth of that moment linger on your skin.
“’Bout time you two showed up,” Tommy said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Was starting to think Joel forgot how to talk again.”
Joel huffed, sinking down onto the couch beside Sarah. “Didn’t forget. Just didn’t have nothin’ to say.”
You found yourself sitting on the couch in the living room, your hands curled around a mug of cocoa Sarah had made for you.
The house smelled like old wood and warm food, and the firelight flickered across the walls, making everything feel almost dreamlike.
Tommy leaned back in his chair. “Ain’t had a dinner that lively in a while,” he said with a grin. “Kid fits right in, huh?”
“Yeah,” Ellie called from the kitchen. “She actually laughed at my jokes, which means she’s definitely got taste.”
Joel shook his head, half-smiling as he sipped his drink. “That what you call them? Jokes?”
“Hey, c’mon,” Ellie shot back, drying her hands. “You’re just mad ‘cause she likes me more.”
You tried not to laugh into your mug, but the sound slipped out anyway — quiet, soft. Joel’s gaze flicked toward you for a second, his expression unreadable except for that faint glint in his eyes.
Sarah came padding into the living room and dropped onto the couch beside you, resting her head against your shoulder. “Dad never invites people over,” she said with a yawn. “You must be special.”
Your cheeks warmed instantly, and Joel’s eyes darted to the fire instead. “Sarah,” he muttered, voice low, “let the girl breathe.”
Tommy chuckled, swirling the last of his drink. “Don’t fight it, brother. The kid’s right. Ain’t seen you this talkative since… hell, I can’t even remember when.”
Joel shot him a look. “Don’t start.”
But the tension in his voice didn’t match his face because under the flicker of the firelight, his eyes softened when they met yours. You caught him looking more than once, and every time, he’d glance away like he hadn’t meant to.
The room settled into a kind of quiet comfort after that. Ellie and Sarah played cards on the rug. Tommy hummed along to an old record spinning in the corner. And you… you just sat there, close enough to hear Joel’s slow breathing beside you, close enough to feel the weight of his quiet presence.
He wasn’t saying much. He didn’t have to.
For someone who claimed he didn’t let people in, he sure didn’t seem to mind you being there.
Ellie snorted. “I wonder who here is grumpy like an old grandpa.”
You froze mid-step, and Sarah giggled into her sleeve. Joel shot Ellie a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t you got something to do?”
Ellie grinned. “Not on Sundays.”
“Then go find somethin’ else to do.”
Tommy laughed, shaking his head. “Hell, don’t mind him, kid. He’s always like this when he’s got company. Gets all stiff like he’s the sheriff of Jackson or somethin’.”
Joel groaned. “Tommy—”
“Anyway,” Tommy cut him off, leaning forward, “Maria told me to give you some spare clothes later. We got a box of ‘em from last month’s trade — pants, shirts, sweaters, jeans, maybe even a decent coat. You look like you could use somethin’ warmer for them cold mornings.”
You blinked, surprised. “Oh, that’s… I don’t wanna take anyone’s—”
“It ain’t takin’, sweetheart,” Tommy said gently. “You’re part of this place now. Might as well start dressin’ like it.”
Joel didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you. quiet, unreadable. When you risked a glance his way, he looked down at his hands, rubbing at a small scar on his thumb.
Sarah reached over and tugged at your sleeve. “You can borrow my scarf too if you want. It’s pink, but Dad says pink’s a strong color.”
Joel exhaled through his nose, pretending not to hear that. “Never said that.”
“Yes you did,” Sarah chirped.
Ellie smirked. “Totally did. Said it when she wore it on last winter.”
The girls burst out laughing, and even Tommy cracked up. Joel just leaned back, grumbling something low under his breath but you caught it.
A quiet, almost reluctant, “You can have the scarf if you want.”
You insisted and just said that Sarah should keep it. You smiled faintly, holding the warmth you were feeling in your chest.
It wasn’t just a dinner anymore. It was something that almost felt like family.
The fire crackled low, filling the quiet between conversations. Ellie and Sarah sat cross-legged on the rug, still laughing about something Tommy said, while Joel stayed leaned back in the armchair, one elbow on his knee, eyes occasionally flicking toward you.
“So,” Ellie said suddenly, looking up at you. “Wait—how old are you again?”
You hesitated, caught mid-laugh. “16..”
Both girls blinked, almost at the same time.
Sarah’s mouth fell open. “What? No way. You look like—like eleven!”
Ellie nodded quickly, “Yeah, I thought Joel was letting a kid do horse work!”
Tommy barked out a laugh from the couch. “Told y’all, Good genes.”
Joel didn’t laugh. His voice came low, steady. “We already talked ‘bout that earlier,” he said, glancing at you. “She’s sixteen.”
Sarah tilted her head, still staring in disbelief. “But you look so young.”
You shrugged, tucking your knees closer. “Guess I just… grew up different.”
Ellie asked, ever the one to change the subject gently, leaned forward. “You have a Family?”
Your smile faltered. You looked down at your hands, fiddling with your sleeve. “Just my dad,” you said quietly.
Joel’s eyes sharpened, his jaw setting.
Ellie’s voice softened. “And… why he’s not with you?”
You shook your head. “No. I—uh, I ran away. He wasn’t… he wasn’t good to me.”
The words came out small, but honest and the silence that followed was careful, respectful.
Ellie bit her lip, her earlier excitement fading. “Oh,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
You gave a small shrug, trying to play it off. “It’s okay. I’m safe now.”
Sarah curiously asked “Have you ever went to school?”
You looked up, shaking your head. “No. He didn’t let me.”
Tommy frowned deeply, but Joel didn’t say anything for a long time. He just watched you. that same quiet, thoughtful stare he’d had since the day you arrived.
Until he finally said, in a voice low enough that only you could really hear, “Well… As I said, you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that anymore.”
You nodded, your throat tight.
Sarah crawled closer on the rug, her voice bright but gentle. “You can learn with me and Ellie! Dad teaches us sometimes.”
“Yeah,” Ellie grinned, “He’s actually not bad at it when he’s not being all grumpy.”
That earned a faint scoff from Joel, though his eyes softened at the sight of you smiling again.
Tommy leaned back with a small smile. “See? Told you this place had good people.”
You looked around at all of them, their faces warm in the glow of the firelight and for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed it.
Dinner had ended hours ago, but the warmth of it lingered — laughter still echoing faintly in Joel’s ears. You’d sat beside Sarah and Ellie, quiet but smiling, occasionally glancing toward Joel like you weren’t sure if you belonged there.
He noticed every glance, every shy reach for the bread basket, every soft “thank you” that barely left your lips.
Now the house had gone still. The only sound was the ticking of the old clock in the living room and the faint creak of the wood under Joel’s boots. Everyone else had gone to bed. Tommy down the hall, the girls in their room but Joel… he stayed and you two were the only ones left in the living room.
Joel sat back on the couch, one arm resting along the back while the other held his mug. The firelight flickered across his face, making the shadows on his jaw look deeper. He didn’t seem to mind you talking, in fact, he looked kind of glad for the company after a long day.
“What’s your favorite food?” you asked softly, glancing over at him.
He huffed a little laugh, looking into his cup before answering. “Hm… been a while since I thought about that.” There was a pause, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Used to be steak. Real thick cut, medium rare, mashed potatoes on the side. Haven’t had that in years, though.”
You nodded, resting your chin on your knee. “Sounds good… better than what I usually eat back at my father’s.”
He gave a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Guess that’s one way to put it.” Then his eyes shifted toward you, curious but gentle. “What about you? You got one?”
When you told him yours, he listened like it mattered, like every little detail about you was worth remembering. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward — it was calm, almost comforting. The fire popped, and you hesitated before asking something else.
“Can I ask about… Sarah’s mother?” You spoke too soon, curiosity really gets you.
His expression softened, the warmth in his eyes dimming just a little. He took a slow breath, thumb brushing against his mug. “She was… somethin’ else. Well, Left us when Sarah was just a baby.” he said after a moment. “We didn’t work out, not really. Life got in the way. But she gave me Sarah — best damn thing that ever happened to me.” His voice dropped quieter at the end, like he was speaking to himself more than to you.
You nodded, unsure what to say next, but he didn’t seem upset. Just thoughtful.
“Sorry,” you murmured, fiddling with your sleeve. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Nah,” he cut in gently, shaking his head. “It’s alright. You can ask me things, kid. Don’t gotta tiptoe around me.”
You smiled a little at that, feeling braver now. “Then… how old are you?”
That actually made him laugh — low and rough, but real. “Older than I look,” he said with a smirk. “And that’s all you’re gettin’ outta me.”
You giggled quietly, and he leaned back again, eyes softening as he watched the fire. “You ask a lotta questions,” he said, not in annoyance but in fond amusement.
“Guess I just wanna know more about you,” you said shyly.
Joel’s gaze flicked to you. His look were steady, warm, a little protective. “Then keep askin’,” he said, voice low. “I’ll tell you what I can.”
You smiled softly, feeling that familiar warmth creep up your neck. “Maybe tomorrow,” you murmured.
The fire had burned down to a soft orange glow, shadows flickering lazily across the living room walls.
Joel was still sitting on the couch, leaning back with his boots crossed, his eyes half-lidded but awake.
You were curled up on the other end, wrapped in a blanket, trying to make yourself look sleepy even though your heart wouldn’t calm down.
The conversation from earlier kept replaying in your head. The way he talked about his favorite food, the little grin when he told you his age, the low rumble of his voice every time he laughed. You could still hear it — that rough warmth that made something flutter in your chest.
You turned slightly, your face half-hidden under the blanket. He hadn’t moved much, just sitting there, his gaze lost somewhere in the fire. You thought maybe he’d forgotten you were still awake… until his voice broke the quiet.
“You gettin’ some rest?” he murmured, his tone low, gentle.
You froze for a moment before mumbling softly, “Mhm… trying to.”
He hummed in reply, and you could almost feel the sound in your stomach. You didn’t understand why but every time he spoke, it was like those butterflies inside you wouldn’t stop moving.
It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves. It was something warm. Something new.
You closed your eyes tighter, pretending to drift off, but your mind wouldn’t let go of the way he’d looked at you earlier — calm, almost protective.
You could hear the faint creak of the couch when he shifted, maybe looking your way. You didn’t dare open your eyes. Your cheeks were warm, and your tummy felt light, fluttery, like something inside you was floating.
You suddenly remembered that this was Tommy’s House, You felt embarrassed because you already have your own cabin. You stood up, folding the blanket and arranging the pillows on the sofa.
Joel just quietly observed how much discipline and good girl you are.
He don’t budge to say that you can sleep in tommy’s living room, He didn’t wanted to sound forceful. But you were always allowed to.
You softly spoke, “I’m going to my cabin now, Thank you so much for the food and.. clothes..”
Joel’s voice came again, quieter this time. “Okay. Goodnight, kiddo.”
You smiled against the blanket, barely breathing out a soft, “Goodnight, Mr. Miller.”
And even as sleep slowly crept in, that feeling in your tummy stayed — small, delicate, and impossible to ignore. Like butterflies that refused to settle.
Your cabin was dim, just a little lantern burning low by the bed. You kicked off your boots and sank under the blanket, curling up tight. The quiet felt heavier here, with only the wind outside and the faint echo of your own heartbeat.
You turned over, pressing your face into the pillow, but your mind wouldn’t settle. The conversation kept looping in your head, the way he talked about food, the slow grin when he mentioned his age, the sound of his laugh. You could still hear it, deep and warm, like it lived somewhere in your chest now.
Your fingers curled into the blanket as that strange fluttery feeling rose in your stomach again. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves either. It was… something soft. Something you couldn’t name. You felt it when he smiled at you, when he spoke your name, when he looked at you like you were someone he wanted to understand.
You sighed, closing your eyes tighter, pretending to sleep but every time you moved, your heart thudded a little faster. Your tummy felt light, like it was filled with tiny wings that wouldn’t stop fluttering. You tried to tell yourself it was nothing. Just the warmth. Just the quiet. Just him.
And still, the thought slipped in. Why does he make me feel like this?
You rolled onto your side, half-smiling without realizing it, pulling the blanket on your shoulder level and hugging the extra pillow, Maybe starting a new life isn’t that bad.
You finally drifted off thinking about Him.
Outside around midnight, the snow cracked softly under someone’s boots — slow, careful steps. It stirred you, it made hold your breath, You already know it was Joel.
He stood outside your door, hand hovering just shy of knocking. The light under the frame was still on. He could hear faint rustling inside, maybe you were folding the clothes Tommy lent you, or maybe you couldn’t sleep either.
He told himself it was just manners. That he was checking if you needed more water, or if the cabin room was too cold. But his heart didn’t believe that excuse.
He exhaled softly and finally spoke, voice low, careful not to wake anyone.
“Hey,” he said, the word barely a whisper. “You settling in okay?”
The door creaked a little, and you peeked out, eyes soft and drowsy. You nodded once, hands fiddling nervously at the hem of your shirt.
Joel’s chest tightened. You looked so small standing there, hair a little messy, eyes wide in the dim light. “Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he muttered. “Just wanted to make sure you’re doin’ alright.”
You hesitated, then smiled faintly — a fragile, thankful thing. “I’m okay,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.
Joel nodded, shifting awkwardly. “Good. That’s good.”
There was silence — the kind that stretched between two people who didn’t know what to say, but didn’t want to leave just yet.
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking toward the window at the end of the hall. “If you… uh… need anything. Water, blanket, somethin’… Just knock on my porch door, Alright?”
You nodded again, whispering, “Okay.. Night night, Mr. Miller.”
Joel’s lips twitched — not quite a smile, but something close. “Just Joel,” he said softly. “Goodnight.”
He lingered one more second before stepping away, his shadow retreating back to his house.
But when he laid in bed later, staring at the ceiling, he could still see your shy smile behind his eyes. He sighed, pressing a hand over his chest as if to quiet the steady thrum beneath.
“Such an innocent girl…” he murmured, voice rough as he sighed deeply.
A pause.
Then, barely above a whisper, he said your name.
Just to hear how it sounded on his lips.