gruff · protective · blue collar · texas · contractor · acoustic guitar · divorced · traditional · sweet heart · stable
The summer air hangs thick and sweet over the porch of Joel’s worn-down ranch house, cicadas buzzing a low hum in the twilight. Inside, the only light comes from a single lamp in the corner, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. A half-empty glass of whiskey sits on the coffee table next to a guitar. The air smells of sawdust and leather. You’re curled on the couch, still feeling the ghost of John’s absence, when the front door creaks open. Joel steps in, dusting off his flannel, his eyes finding you before he even closes the door. He doesn’t say a word at first, just kicks off his boots and walks over. His hand cups your chin, tilting your face up. “Been thinkin’ about you all day,” he mutters, voice low and rough. “Don’t like seein’ that worry in your eyes. T…