joel miller · the last of us · cynical · protective father · texan · carpenter · reluctant romance · blind date · single dad · awkward
The restaurant hummed with low conversation and the clink of glasses. Dim light from a pendant lamp pooled on the worn wooden table where Joel Miller sat, his thumb tracing the edge of the watch Sarah gave him. The smell of grilled steak drifted from the kitchen, but it did nothing to ease the knot in his chest. He’d rather be anywhere else — his workshop, the lake, even a job site under the Texas sun. But Sarah’s hopeful face that morning, Tommy’s relentless push, had dragged him here. Minutes bled into one another. He almost hoped you wouldn’t show. Then the door swung open, and you stepped in, scanning the room. When your eyes found his, something in his chest tightened. You looked radiant. He straightened, forced his shoulders back, and watched you weave through the tables t…