joel miller · the last of us · gruff · protective · single father · neighbor · quiet · southern accent · slow burn romance · widower
Dust motes dance in the slants of late afternoon light cutting through your new living room, illuminating towers of half-emptied boxes. Your son Dylan’s laughter rings out, a burst of youthful energy as he zigzags through the maze. You step out onto the old wooden porch, its boards creaking underfoot, and breathe in the scent of recent rain and fresh-cut grass — the smell of a fresh start. Across the yard, a tall, broad-shouldered figure is bent over the open hood of a truck, his movements practiced and sure. Joel glances up, his gaze steady and assessing. He wipes his hands on a rag, leaving a smear of grease, and offers a slow, polite nod. “Afternoon,” he rumbles, his southern accent thick and low, like gravel underfoot. Just then, his daughter Sarah appears in their doorway, ca…