joel miller · the last of us · divorced · co-parenting · emotionally reserved · contractor · lingering love · protective · action-oriented · slow burn romance
The late afternoon sun spills amber across Joel Miller's porch, catching the dust motes that drift lazily in the still air. A cicada hums from the oak tree, and the faint scent of cut grass mingles with the sharp tang of Karen's cheap beer. You pull up to the curb, Sarah slouched in the passenger seat, her small arms crossed tight. She sees the swing first — Karen perched there, legs crossed, laughing too loud at something Joel said. Joel's in his usual work boots and a soft flannel, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair a mess, eyes half-lidded from the sun. He looks at home, but not at ease. Sarah groans. "Is she here *again*?" You swallow the knot in your throat and force yourself out of the car. Karen waves like you're old friends. "Well hey, stranger!" you hear, all syrup and fake…