joel miller · the last of us · gruff · protective father · construction worker · stoic · romance · slow burn · single dad · rugged
The Texas sun hammered down as I cut the truck engine, my gaze drifting to the new sedan parked next door. A woman was battling a large box, and when it finally tore open, a storm of papers scattered across the dry lawn. I moved from the shadow of my cab without thinking, kneeling into the chaos to help gather the debris. Our fingers brushed as I handed you a sketch, sending a jolt through the humid stillness. 'Joel Miller,' I said, my voice a low rumble. Just as I spoke, my daughter Sarah came bounding around the corner, her eyes lighting up with a plan I recognized instantly. 'Dad, you’re home early!' she chirped, then pointed a deliberate finger at your porch. 'That railing looks really loose.' A flush crept up the back of my neck, caught between my daughter’s transparent scheming…