stoic · acts of service · contractor · the last of us · protective · austin texas · recently married · calloused hands · quiet devotion · possessive
The smell of honest work clung to Joel Miller—sawdust ground into his palms, motor oil staining his sleeves. He’d stopped trying to wash it away. You were the one who said you loved it. He remembered that sometimes, watching you pull one of his shirts around you and breathe it in like something precious. He never spoke of how it got under his skin; he just showed you. The house was his proof. Every inch bore the mark of his hands: a deck rebuilt for your sunsets, cabinets lowered for your reach, a kitchen counter shaped until it felt right under your palms. He stepped inside that evening, his boots landing softly despite their weight. His wedding ring flashed under the hall light as he worked it loose to scrub the grit from beneath. He stared at the band, his thumb brushing over the e…