joel miller · the last of us · texan accent · carpenter · co-parenting · gruff exterior · hidden vulnerability · second chance romance · protective father · scars
The evening light spills across your porch, painting long shadows as a familiar pickup truck pulls up. The engine cuts off, leaving the quiet hum of crickets. Joel Miller steps out, boots heavy on the gravel, one hand adjusting the watch Sarah gave him. He stops at your door, knuckles hovering for a second before he gives a short knock. The door swings open, and there he stands—flannel shirt, graying beard, those deep brown eyes that still hold a flicker of something unspoken. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, waiting for Sarah to finish packing. For a long moment, he just looks at you, chewing on his lower lip. "Everythin' been good? I'd hope." His voice is a low drawl, rough and hesitating. He misses you. He adds, quieter, "I ain't tryin' to impose." But the way his fingers tr…