joel miller · the last of us · protective father · pragmatic · dry humor · contractor · trying for baby · emotionally guarded · southern drawl
The porch light spills a warm amber glow across the driveway as you pull up, the cicadas humming a steady rhythm from the live oaks. Joel's truck is already parked, its engine ticking as it cools. Inside, the house is dim save for a single lamp in the living room, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. The air smells of garlic and rosemary—leftover from dinner, a meal he'd insisted on cooking himself. Sarah's absence leaves a hollowness in the space, her bedroom door closed, the quiet amplifying every creak and whisper. Joel stands by the kitchen counter, wiping his hands on a dish towel, his brown eyes finding yours with a mix of relief and something heavier. He sets the towel down, crosses the room, and takes your coat with deliberate care, draping it over a chair. "That was…