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joelsrose · 1 month ago

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Guns and Roses: Chapter 10

I KNOW I POSTED LAST NIGHT BUT I COULDN'T STOP MYSELF - HERE ENOYYY EEEEEEKKK

TW: VIOLENCE ANGST PUNCHING BRUISING

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“That guy’s a fucking asshole,” Caleb muttered as you walked in from dinner. You barely glanced his way, too emotionally drained to unpack the night’s events. The weight of it pressed down on you as you stood by the nightstand, brushing your hair in silent, rhythmic strokes, hoping the familiar motion might somehow clear the ache in your chest.

But even now, you could still feel the ghost of Joel’s hands on your face, his touch lingering as though he’d never really pulled away. He had been close—closer than you’d prepared for—and in that charged moment, you felt an undeniable pull, an ache that seemed to pulse through you, quietly urging him to close the distance. His lips, soft and pink, flashed in your mind like an oasis you hadn’t dared to reach, a forbidden place you’d denied yourself.

A wave of regret washed over you as you remembered the way he’d paused, held back, waiting for the smallest signal from you. You hadn’t given it, hadn’t let him know. And now, here in the quiet of this room, the memory of his nearness was all you had, and you couldn’t help but wish you’d crossed that line.

When you didn’t respond, Caleb lowered the book he’d been reading, placing it flat on his chest, his gaze heavy as he studied you through the mirror. The silence between you was thick, pressing down on you with an unspoken weight that made your hands falter as they brushed over your hair.

"Did you two ever…?" he asked finally, the question hanging in the air.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze for a moment before looking away. "No. We didn’t…never." The words were out quickly. You focused on your reflection, refusing to let your eyes drift back to his, hoping he wouldn’t see the flicker of hesitation that even you could feel deep down.

"Good." His reply was soft, almost a sigh, but it held a note of finality, a quiet relief he wanted to believe.

And it wasn’t a lie. You hadn’t crossed that line with Joel—not in the way Caleb feared. But there was something there, something you couldn’t name or give shape to, something that felt almost tangible in the way it filled every moment you shared with him. It was more than physical; it was a pull, a quiet force that you’d been holding back from fully understanding.

The memory of Joel’s expression tonight crept into your mind—how he’d looked at you with that pained intensity as you told him it was too late, that you were marrying Caleb. You’d said it with such conviction, surprising even yourself. The words had sounded so solid, so sure. But beneath that certainty was a war raging, a clash between the promise you’d made and the longing you still felt, a pull rooted so deeply in your gut it left an ache.

And now, in the stillness of this room, with Caleb’s expectant silence pressing against you, you wondered if that ache would ever truly fade—or if it was something you’d carry, a quiet, constant reminder of the path you hadn’t taken.

It wasn’t fair to Caleb. Every time he reached for your hand or pressed his lips to yours, you felt a pang of guilt, knowing he deserved someone who loved him without reservations, without ghosts lingering in her mind.

He deserved someone who wouldn’t drift away in thought at the feel of his hand, someone who didn’t close her eyes and wonder what it might be like if it were someone else.

You could feel the warmth of his affection, the weight of his love, and yet here you were, holding pieces of yourself back, leaving parts of your heart that he would never reach.

As you slipped into bed, Caleb broke the silence again, his voice hesitant but with a hint of determination. “I was thinking…maybe we could bring the wedding forward. Why wait?” His eyes searched yours, hopeful, trying to find some reflection of his own certainty. But you kept your gaze on the ceiling, your mind somewhere distant.

A part of you wanted to say yes—not out of some sweeping, undeniable love, but out of a quiet desperation for stability, a need to root yourself in something certain, someone who could finally drown out the constant hum of Joel in your mind.

You hoped that by making those vows, sealing your commitment in words as binding as they were final, you might stitch a clean line across the tangled feelings you held for him, quieting them to a faint, harmless echo.

But as the words hovered on the edge of your tongue, a knot of unease twisted deep in your gut, a silent protest rising within you, unyielding and impossible to ignore.

"…Let’s talk about it tomorrow. I’m tired." You rolled over onto your side, putting a small but needed distance between you.

“Alright. Goodnight,” he murmured softly, leaning over to press a kiss to your shoulder.

It should have felt comforting, grounding—something to pull you closer to the life you’d chosen.

But as he settled beside you, you lay there, eyes shut, wishing to feel something, anything at all.

•••

Days passed, and somehow it felt even worse knowing that Joel was somewhere in town, close but entirely out of reach. The weight of it settled in your chest—a hollow ache that you knew you had no right to feel. After all, you’d been the one to tell him it was too late, that you had chosen a different path.

But really, what choice had there been?

Life with Joel had always been a storm, unpredictable and wild, leaving you to gather the scattered pieces of yourself whenever he was gone.

As you moved through your days, running errands, keeping busy with mundane tasks—picking up supplies, stopping by the market, helping Maria with the garden—you found yourself glancing up each time you heard footsteps, your heart giving a hopeful leap before reason set in. Every time the doorbell chimed at the general store or someone rounded a corner on the main street, you’d scan their face, just in case it might be him. You told yourself it was foolish, that you shouldn’t expect him, but the habit was unbreakable.

Each disappointment left a quiet bruise. The truth was, you felt lost, untethered, like you were moving without a map. You were standing at a crossroads, one side offering you the safe, steady life you thought you wanted, and the other pulling you toward a need you barely understood, a pull so strong it scared the light right out of you.

Later that afternoon, as the sun dipped low, casting a warm, golden haze over everything it touched, the world seemed to glow in quiet reverence. Long shadows stretched across the ground, and the leaves caught the fading light, turning them into flickering embers of orange and red. It was a rare, perfect moment, as if the day itself was holding its breath.

“Hey, Ellie,” you called softly, spotting her standing at the edge of the porch. She stood with her gaze lowered, her shoulders tight, her usual spark dimmed and subdued. When she looked up, there was a heaviness in her eyes, a weight she carried with a quiet resilience that made your heart ache. You could see it—the struggle she didn’t want anyone else to notice, the weariness she’d tried so hard to hide.

"Did you want to come in?" you offered, gesturing toward the door.

She shook her head quickly. "No…out here’s fine."

You nodded, leaning against the railing, giving her space. She shifted on her feet, hands shoved deep in her pockets, a trace of hesitation flickering across her face.

"I wanted to…say sorry about dinner," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “That was really fucking stupid of me.”

You offered her a gentle smile. "Hey, don’t worry about it. Really."

But you could see the regret in her eyes, a silent apology lingering there. Without thinking, you opened your arms, and after a moment’s hesitation, she stepped forward, letting you pull her into a hug. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, and as she leaned into you, you felt her release a small, shuddering sigh, like she’d been holding her breath under the weight of everything she couldn’t say.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes met yours with an unusual intensity. "Has Joel…spoken to you?" she asked, her voice careful, like she was treading on fragile ground.

You nodded, averting your gaze, not quite sure where this was headed. "Yeah…we’ve spoken a little. Why?" Your tone came out a little guarded, betraying the unease stirring within you—you hadn’t expected her to bring him up.

Ellie hesitated, a look of vulnerability flickering in her eyes. "Did he…explain everything?"

You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the admission settle over you. “Honestly? I was so angry, I didn’t really give him a chance to explain.” Running your fingers through your hair, you let out a weary sigh. “And…I’m not even sure it would change anything.”

She paused, her eyes searching your face, a flicker of disappointment shadowing her expression. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

Finally, with a surprising gravity, she looked directly at you and asked, “Do you love him?”

"What?" you whispered, caught off guard.

“Do you love Joel?” she repeated, her gaze unwavering. “Because if you do, it matters.”

You were about to respond, ready to deflect, but Ellie didn’t give you the chance. In a quiet, deliberate motion, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing an unmistakable bite mark—jagged, the edges tinged with an unnatural red, yet somehow healed into a scar that seemed etched into her very soul. Your heart stopped, your breath caught as you stared at it, struggling to comprehend a reality you’d never imagined possible.

“I’m immune,” she said, her voice steady, though it carried an ache that had clearly weighed on her for a long time.

The world seemed to narrow to that bite, to the raw truth it held. Immune. The word echoed in your mind, almost too big to grasp, reshaping everything you thought you knew. That scar wasn’t just a mark—it was a revelation, a silent testament to survival against the impossible.

“I got bitten, years ago,” she began, her voice even and steady, each word carefully controlled, like she’d repeated this story to herself so many times that the shock of it had dulled, fading into a familiar ache. “And…I didn’t turn.” She paused, letting the weight of those words settle between you, their meaning unfathomable.

“Before we left, I was on patrol,” she continued, her gaze distant, focused somewhere beyond the room. “Those raiders—they knew about me. They were after me, after what I am. They want a cure, and to them, I’m the key. That’s why I had to leave Jackson, why I had to disappear.” She swallowed, a shadow flickering across her face. “They’d kill me to get what they wanted.”

She turned back to you, her eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity. “Joel left because he was protecting me,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering. The words seemed to carry a depth of gratitude, pain, and loyalty that went beyond anything she’d ever let show before.

Her words sank into you like stones, heavy and undeniable, pulling you into the depths of everything she’d endured. For a brief moment, she looked scared, as if expecting you to recoil, to look at her with fear in your eyes. But all you could see was this girl—this brave, burdened girl who had lost so much and carried this unimaginable weight alone.

“Oh, Ellie…” you whispered, pulling her into a hug, holding her tightly, hoping it might lessen the weight she carried, even if just for a moment.

She mumbled against your shoulder, her voice muffled but tinged with her usual dry humor, “Are we just gonna hug all day?”

“Yes,” you replied softly, your arms wrapped around her. “Yes, we are.”

With Ellie against your chest, you found yourself lost in thought. Joel hadn’t abandoned you out of indifference; he had shouldered the enormous weight of keeping Ellie safe, protecting a secret that was far bigger than either of you. You thought about all he’d lost, the sacrifices he’d made, and the toll it had taken on him—the way it had hollowed him out, leaving a shell of the man you once knew.

A pang of guilt twisted within you, regret pooling in your chest as you realized how quickly you’d dismissed him, how you hadn’t given him the chance to bare his soul, to explain the truth he’d been carrying alone for so long.

Last night, he had practically begged for that chance, and you had turned away.

You pulled back, subtly brushing a tear from your eye, but Ellie noticed. She looked at you, her voice soft, gentle, as if she understood just how deep this conversation was cutting. “So…it’s not his fault. If you love him…please, don’t let this be the reason you don’t.”

A pang of guilt twisted in your chest, sharpening the ache that had already settled there. “Ellie, I…I spent a year thinking you two were dead. He could’ve left a note…anything.” The hurt slipped out, raw and honest, surprising even you.

Ellie snorted, a wry smile breaking through the tension. “Yeah, well, Joel’s a fucking idiot sometimes. But he’s your idiot, y’know? And if you feel even a tiny bit of what he does for you, then you’ve gotta let that Caleb guy go.”

You blinked, genuinely caught off guard. “Ellie!”

“I’m serious!” she threw her hands up in exasperation, her voice taking on that familiar blunt edge. “Jesus, I feel like a damn couples counselor here, but come on. Think about it. Really think about it.”

Her words lingered in the air as she turned to leave, cutting straight to the heart of your indecision, leaving you with no easy escape. You could only give her a silent nod, your mind louder than it had been in a long time.

•••

It was your birthday.

Once, this day had been filled with meaning—sun-soaked afternoons at the beach, laughter stretching into late nights, bouquets of flowers from a boyfriend who felt like he knew you better than anyone. Back then, it was a day to celebrate, a marker of joy. But now, it felt different, a quiet reminder of time passing, of things that had faded and slipped away.

You groaned as the blinds opened, spilling bright, uninvited light across the room, tugging you from the last, lingering fragments of a dream. Caleb leaned over, pressing soft kisses across your face, each one gentle and warm.

But somehow, the touch felt…misplaced, like an ill-fitting piece in a puzzle. Your mind betrayed you, drifting to thoughts of Joel—to the imagined sensation of his rough beard brushing against your cheek, the warmth of his presence unmistakable, something that lingered even in his absence.

"Good morning, baby. Happy birthday," Caleb murmured, his voice warm, affectionate, grounding.

You forced a smile, whispering, “Morning,” while your thoughts drifted somewhere else.

Caleb clapped his hands together, the sound bright and eager. "Alright! Get up, get dressed. I’ve got a surprise for you," he announced, his excitement almost childlike, lighting up the room.

You groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. “You know I hate surprises.”

But that was a lie, wasn’t it? You remembered the time Joel had taken you to the farm, how he’d planned every detail with an unexpected tenderness. And that other time he’d led you out under the vast night sky, revealing that he’d named a star after you, his shoulders brushing against yours.

The man had literally gifted you a piece of the heavens, and that memory burned brighter than anything else.

•••

You got dressed, brushing off Caleb’s playful protests as he tried to convince you to let him blindfold you. “Come on, just this once!” he begged, grinning as the two of you strolled side by side down the street. But you could already guess where he was leading you.

Maria’s house.

Sure enough, as you reached her porch, he made one final attempt. “Okay, let me put it on now, just so they think we walked the whole way like this.”

“Fine,” you relented, laughing as you let him tie the scarf over your eyes. His laughter mixed with yours as he guided you up the steps and inside.

The warmth of Maria’s house wrapped around you instantly, filled with the familiar scents of home-cooked food and fresh coffee. You could hear rustling, hushed whispers, and the occasional stifled giggle—a poor attempt at hiding what was clearly waiting for you. But it brought a genuine smile to your face, their clumsy enthusiasm both endearing and comforting.

“Alright, take it off now,” Caleb whispered, barely containing his excitement.

As he slipped the scarf from your eyes, a chorus of voices filled the room. “Surprise!”

You blinked, taken aback even though you’d guessed it. Around you stood everyone who mattered—Maria, Ellie, Tommy, each face smiling with warmth and sincerity. You took it all in, grateful for each of them. But as your eyes swept across the room, you felt a small, inexplicable pang in your chest.

Joel wasn’t there.

Of course he wouldn’t be. You’d been the one to end things, to say it was too late. He had no reason to show up, no reason to pretend it didn’t still hurt. And yet, the emptiness of his absence gnawed at you, a hollow ache you hadn’t expected, a vacancy that cast a subtle shadow over the gathering.

For a moment, you almost laughed at yourself, at how foolish it was to feel his absence so sharply amidst people who loved you.

Maria’s hug grounded you, pulling you back into the moment. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she murmured, her voice a gentle warmth that seeped into your heart.

“Happy birthday, sunshine!” Tommy chimed in, his baby balanced on one hip, his grin wide and teasing. “You’re getting old!”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Not as old as you, Tommy.”

Ellie was next, bounding over with her usual mischievous smirk. “Happy birthday! Don’t worry, I didn’t get you anything lame,” she added, with a wink that drew a laugh from you.

You glanced around, noticing the mismatched wrapping paper on a small pile of gifts, streamers drooping from the ceiling, looking like they’d survived a few birthdays already.

Somehow, the makeshift charm of it all was perfect. “Guys…you didn’t have to do all this,” you said, a hint of emotion tightening your voice.

Tommy grinned, nodding at Caleb. “All your man’s idea. He wanted to make this one special.”

You looked over at Caleb, his face beaming with pride and affection. “Thank you,” you murmured, giving him a soft kiss, hoping the gesture might quiet the conflicted feelings bubbling up beneath the surface.

“Alright, enough of that,” Caleb said, clapping his hands with a grin. “Let’s get to the presents!” He gently steered you toward the center of the living room, where the small pile of gifts awaited, each one carrying a personal touch from those who cared about you.

You settled onto the floor, surrounded by colorful packages, each one wrapped with care. Caleb handed you the first gift, and you carefully peeled back the paper to reveal a beautifully scented candle—a blend of lavender and cedar, one of Lydia’s creations from her little workshop on the edge of Jackson.

“Oh, I love this! Who’s it from?” you asked, holding up the candle and breathing in the familiar scent.

“Uh-uh,” Tommy chimed in, grinning from the couch as he crossed his arms. “You gotta guess—makes it more fun.”

You smiled, glancing around the room, already having an idea. “Maria. She knows I’m obsessed with this scent.”

“Guilty,” Maria laughed, raising her hand with a playful shrug. “Thought it’d be perfect for you.”

Next, you picked up a small, oddly shaped package wrapped in newspaper with tape clumsily slapped on every edge. Inside was a mug, boldly painted with “#1 Old Person” in bright letters, complete with a cartoon of a grumpy face and a cane.

You raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “Let me guess…Ellie?”

Ellie groaned, crossing her arms. “What? I thought it was perfect!” she said, though her grin was unmistakable. “I mean, you’re getting up there, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, holding the mug up to show everyone. “This is…incredibly accurate. Thanks, Ellie,” you said, trying to look serious as you held back a smile.

Ellie shrugged, her smirk widening. “Just keeping you humble.”

Tommy’s gift came next, wrapped in an old flannel shirt and tied with a strip of leather. You unwrapped it to reveal a sturdy, worn pocketknife, the blade engraved with delicate etchings of mountains and pine trees, like the landscapes around Jackson. It had clearly seen its share of use but had been cleaned and polished until it gleamed.

“Thought you could use a reliable blade,” Tommy said with a grin, leaning back with that familiar glint of pride. “Got a lot of history in that one. Used to belong to one of the rangers around here, way back when.”

You turned it over in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the smoothness of the handle that felt perfectly worn to fit. It wasn’t just practical; it felt like a piece of the land, of all the paths you’d come to know.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you said, meeting his gaze. “It’s…perfect. Really.”

Soon, only two small packages remained beside you. You looked around, eyebrows raised, wondering who might’ve gone out of their way to get you two gifts. You picked up the first one, turning it over in your hands, curiosity prickling at you.

The package was wrapped with a care and precision that immediately drew your attention. It was covered in a soft, natural brown paper, the kind that felt textured under your fingertips, like it had been chosen intentionally. A delicate rope ribbon was tied around the top, carefully knotted and finished with a small, neat bow—a touch that made it feel personal, thoughtful, like someone had taken their time to make this moment feel special.

You slowly undid the ribbon, your fingers grazing over the rough twine as you pulled back the paper. Inside was a packet of rose seeds, their delicate promise of life and color held in each tiny seed. The simple, quiet beauty of it took you by surprise, and your heart swelled, a rush of unexpected joy flooding through you.

Seeds like this were rare, a near-impossible find. You’d managed to cultivate a few hardy plants in your garden, but roses—roses were a dream you’d given up on long ago. Caleb must have gone out of his way, venturing further on patrol, searching specifically for these, knowing how much they’d mean to you.

Without a second thought, you jumped up, wrapping your arms around him, the weight of the gesture sinking in.

In this moment, everything felt right—solid and certain, grounded in this small but powerful act of care. For the first time, you felt a sense of calm about your future with him, a glimmer of peace in the middle of all the chaos.

“Caleb, this is incredible—how did you even find these?” you asked, your voice filled with wonder.

But as you looked up at Caleb, a strange, pained expression crossed his face. His eyes flickered, a brief moment of something almost like discomfort, his smile fading as he seemed to brace himself.

He looked queasy, unsteady, as if something within him had just cracked. “Uh…that’s not from me,” he murmured, his voice sounding hollow, almost broken. He rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet your gaze.

The words sank in slowly, and you felt yourself pull back, the warmth of the moment slipping away as confusion took its place. The room fell into a tense, awkward silence, a stillness that felt like it stretched forever. You glanced around, searching for answers in the faces around you, but all you found was the same look of surprise and discomfort reflected back at you.

Then, with a crushing inevitability, it hit you.

Joel. It was Joel.

The truth settled over you like a weight, dragging you down as the air seemed to still around you. The seeds—the rare, impossible seeds, the effort someone would have gone to just to find them, to make them yours. It had Joel written in every detail, every small, unspoken gesture meant to convey what words never could. The realization clawed at you, turning what had been a moment of pure joy into something complicated, something unbearably tender and painful all at once.

Your fingers tightened around the packet, the tiny seeds now feeling impossibly heavy in your hands, as if they held all the things left unsaid between you.

You didn’t dare look up, didn’t want to see the pity or confusion on anyone’s face, least of all Caleb’s. The warmth of his love, the comfort you had just found, suddenly felt fragile, slipping through your fingers as your heart twisted with the undeniable truth that, despite everything, Joel had left his mark on you, deep and unshakeable.

•••

You sat with Maria on the couch, the gentle hum of conversation around you fading as Tommy, Ellie, and Caleb headed outside to set up a fire pit. Their voices blended into low laughter and the crackle of kindling, a comforting sound that drifted back to the house.

Caleb had gifted you a leather-bound journal, its pages blank and waiting, a thoughtful gesture, especially since yours had nearly run out of space. Yet, somehow, the gift felt strangely hollow, unable to fill the silence left behind by everything else you couldn’t voice.

Maria’s voice cut softly through your thoughts. “He’s on patrol,” she said, her tone quiet but knowing, as if she understood more than she let on.

You looked at her, catching her gaze, something flickering there that made you feel seen in a way you weren’t ready for.

She nodded gently. “He wanted to come,” she continued, “but he couldn’t miss his shift.”

“Oh.” You tried to keep your voice even, unaffected, but you felt an unbidden rush of relief mingling with a strange disappointment.

Why did knowing he wanted to be here, but couldn’t, make your chest tighten? Why did it bring that bittersweet feeling creeping in, like a sigh you couldn’t let go of?

He would have been here if he could.

“But he’ll be there tonight,” Maria added, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, her tone light but carrying a hint of something unspoken.

“Tonight?” You glanced at her, feeling a sudden stir of curiosity tangled with a wary edge. “What do you mean?”

Maria raised her eyebrows, her expression feigning innocence but laced with amusement. “Ah, Caleb and his damn surprises. Guess he didn’t tell you?”

You shook your head, an odd mix of dread and excitement swirling in your chest, tightening like a knot. The idea of seeing Joel—of being in the same room after the weight of today’s revelations—left your mind in a quiet spin.

“We’re all heading to the Tipsy Bison tonight,” she said, giving your knee a reassuring pat. “Figured we’d celebrate properly, give you a chance to unwind.”

“Sounds…nice,” you murmured, managing a small smile.

Maria leaned closer, a playful glint in her eyes. “Well, I have another gift for you…but I didn’t want to show Caleb up. Though, I think that ship might’ve already sailed.”

“Maria!” you protested, but you couldn’t help laughing with her.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” she said, her chuckles spilling over as she led you upstairs. “Sorry, that was mean.” She caught her breath, grinning. “But still—you’re gonna love this.”

“You’re such an ass,” you teased, nudging her as you followed her into her room.

“Here it is,” she said, reaching into her closet.

There it hung - a dress crafted by Maria, a vision of elegance and simplicity. Made from a soft, creamy fabric, it hugged the body in all the right places, flowing naturally down to a midi length that grazed just below the knees. The neckline was a gentle scoop, the capped sleeves curved gracefully over the shoulders, lending the dress a vintage charm.

Scattered across the dress were small, floral cutouts, almost like dainty stars punctuating the fabric, allowing subtle glimpses of skin beneath. The fabric managed to be both demure and alluring, with a timeless, almost ethereal quality, as if it belonged to another era yet felt perfectly suited for the present.

It was a dress that could turn heads in any room—simple, beautiful, and quietly captivating.

You stared, momentarily speechless. “Maria…this is stunning.”

She smiled, giving you a nudge. “I thought you might like it. Figured it was time you had something as beautiful as you are.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you ran a hand over the dress, feeling the luxurious fabric beneath your fingertips. “I’ll wear it tonight,” you said softly, a touch of excitement sparking within you.

•••

You felt a flutter of nerves, the unmistakable butterflies in your stomach—a feeling you hadn’t encountered in a while. It was both thrilling and unnerving, like something had shifted inside you, but you couldn’t quite name it.

As you walked toward the Tipsy Bison, your mind wandered to Joel. You pictured him leaning against the bar, his usual presence a quiet, magnetic force.

Would he say hello? Would he give you space, giving no more than a polite nod? Would he even bother to acknowledge you?

As you made your way through the crowd at the bar, the subtle signs of birthday decorations became apparent—scavenged balloons in soft pastel shades, a few whispers of “Happy birthday” as you passed familiar faces. Caleb’s hand rested lightly on your lower back, a small but constant touch that didn’t go unnoticed.

When Caleb saw you come down the stairs from Maria’s room, wearing that dress, his breath caught in his throat. You were a vision in cream, the soft fabric catching the dim light of the bar, and for a split second, he thought about you standing at the altar, ready to take his last name, ready to belong to him completely.

"Let’s get the birthday girl a fucking drink!" Tommy exclaimed, his voice already tinged with the warmth of a few drinks, clearly eager to get the night started.

"Cheers to another year older and wiser!" he added, lifting his glass high with a grin.

"Cheers," you echoed, raising your glass, the weight of the night settling on your shoulders as you took in the faces around you. The warmth of the room, the laughter, and the clinking of glasses felt almost surreal.

You found yourself scanning the room, searching for Joel, an unspoken urgency tightening in your chest. Where was he?

“Looking for someone?” Caleb’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned, feeling a flicker of disappointment you couldn’t quite hide.

“Oh, there you are,” you replied, forcing a smile, but the words felt hollow, empty. The brightness in his eyes didn’t reach you, and for a brief, guilty moment, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your heart that only one person seemed to fill.

“Let’s dance,” he said, taking your hand and pulling you onto the dance floor. His touch was warm, but there was something detached in the way he held you, something that didn’t settle right in your chest.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, as you began to sway to the soft thrum of music in the background.

“Thank you,” you replied, your words automatic as your gaze flickered toward the door of the Tipsy Bison, your heart still fluttering with anticipation.

You tried to focus on the rhythm of your movements, the way the soft music swirled around you, but your mind kept drifting, restless.

A voice summoned Caleb away, murmuring something about a cake you weren’t supposed to know about. He shook his head, clearly frustrated that the moment had to end. "I'll be right back," he promised, his gaze lingering.

You chuckled softly, not wanting to make it harder for him to leave. “It’s fine, really. Go on—I’ll find Maria in the meantime.”

You turned to find her and Tommy somewhere in the crowd, but then you felt it—the pull. A visceral, gut-wrenching tug that stole the breath from your lungs, like some magnetic force had wrapped itself around your very core.

It was something primal, something undeniable, surging through you like lightning, an irresistible draw toward the one person you hadn’t been able to shake from your heart, not even for a moment.

He was here.

You gasped quietly, the sound caught somewhere between a breath and a whisper as you turned. And there he was.

Joel.

Your heart thundered wildly, drowning out every other sound as you took him in. He looked achingly handsome, cleaned up in a way you’d never seen—his beard trimmed to perfection, each hair deliberate yet effortlessly rugged. He wore a dark button-up that fit him with an almost devastating precision, every line and curve of him highlighted, yet softened by the shirt’s deep hue. His hair was slicked back, adding a polish to his usual rough edges.

His gaze swept the room, searching, until it found you. And when his eyes landed on you, a subtle shift crossed his face—a flicker of uncertainty melting into something so tender, so open it felt like a gift.

A slow, guarded smile broke across his lips, the kind of smile that felt rare and carefully offered. And despite yourself, you mirrored it, warmth spreading through your chest, leaving you breathless, your heart catching as you looked back at him.

He started toward you, his steps almost tentative, as if each one took more courage than the last. There was something shy in the way he approached, and it was so painfully sweet that it left a hollow ache, a dizzying rush, a feeling you couldn’t name but felt in every fiber of your being.

“Happy birthday,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug that felt like it wrapped around every inch of you, enveloping you in a warmth that made the world fall away.

His arms were strong, steady, and as he held you, you felt your knees weaken, the weight of his presence overwhelming yet grounding. You clung to him, not daring to move, as if letting go would break whatever fragile spell had pulled him here, to you, in this moment.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the words barely making it past the thundering pulse in your ears. It felt like your heart had taken up residence in your throat, every beat a reminder of how real he was, how close.

“I, uh…” He trailed off, his voice catching, and for a heartbeat, you saw him—truly saw him—vulnerable, a hint of hesitation softening the hard lines of his face. “I wanted to come by earlier, but I got caught up on patrol.”

“Maria told me,” you replied, your words spilling out before you could even think, laced with a breathlessness you couldn’t hide.

He nodded, a flicker of something almost bashful passing over his face, his jaw tightening as if he was struggling to hold back. There was a gentleness in his expression, a quiet depth that made your chest ache, that left you wanting to memorize every line, every flicker of his gaze.

“Did you…did you get my gift?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. That roughness in his tone, usually so sure, now carried a raw, unguarded edge, and in that single question, you could feel the weight of every unspoken word between you—tender and vulnerable, lingering just beneath the surface.

You nodded, your smile deepening. “It was perfect,” you murmured, warmth flooding your chest as you thought of the rose seeds he’d chosen, each one a promise, a quiet gift just for you.

A genuine smile broke across his face, softening those guarded lines, and you realized how long it had been since you’d seen him like this—unguarded, open. “Good,” he said, almost tenderly. “For your garden.”

His gaze traveled over you, lingering in a way that made your heart pound. “That’s… a hell of a dress” he murmured, his voice low, eyes tracing every line and curve, his stare lingering on you as if he was seeing you for the first time, taking in every detail.

A blush crept up your cheeks under the weight of his attention, a rush of warmth that spread through you, leaving you both exposed and exhilarated. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, a fire you couldn’t look away from, and yet…you didn’t want to.

“Thanks… Maria made it,” you replied, voice softer than you meant, struggling to find your footing under his gaze.

He nodded, his gaze flickering briefly around the room, watching the couples swaying together in soft rhythms on the dance floor. There was a pause—a flicker of something in his expression, something that felt like hesitation, vulnerability even. Then, in a voice so low it was almost a whisper, he asked, “May I?”

This was dangerous, reckless—you shouldn’t, you thought. Not with your fiancé just a few feet away, busy in the kitchen preparing your birthday cake.

But something in you betrayed that logic, and after a heartbeat, you nodded, surrendering. His hand slipped around yours, warm and steady, and he led you onto the dance floor. The moment felt surreal, as if the world had slipped into a different time and space where only the two of you existed.

Everything around you dissolved—the lights, the murmurs of other people, even the steady hum of music. All that was left was him, his hand at the small of your back, guiding you in gentle steps that felt too right, too natural, like you had always been meant to move this way together. The rhythm of the song was a soft thrum in the background, intimate and unhurried, but it was his presence that overpowered it, anchoring you, drawing you closer.

With each step, every subtle shift, you felt yourself spiraling deeper into his orbit, as if the universe had tilted just to place you here, in this fragile, fleeting moment. And for now, just this once, you let yourself be swept away, the rest of the world dissolving like a forgotten dream.

The soft fairy lights strung across the Tipsy Bison cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating his eyes until they looked like molten honey—rich, deep, filled with secrets and stories you’d give anything to know. Those eyes were the kind that made the air hitch in your lungs, made you feel as if you were the only person in his world.

And under his gaze, you almost believed it.

Your hands intertwined perfectly, his fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt like a homecoming, as though they’d always been meant to find solace there. His other hand settled low on your hip, his thumb brushing gentle, rhythmic circles against you, a touch so grounding yet tender it sent a warmth spreading through you. His movements guided you in a slow, unhurried sway, the two of you falling effortlessly into a rhythm that matched the music’s soft, steady beat.

“Where… where’d you find the seeds?” you asked, your voice soft, almost hesitant, eyes searching his face, trying to catch every flicker of expression.

“When Ellie and I were… uh, gone,” he began, his voice steady yet laced with something raw, something fragile. He looked down, his gaze drifting to the floor before meeting yours again. “Found ’em and thought of you. Kept ’em, just in case I ever…” He trailed off, the unfinished words hanging heavily between you, laden with all the things he’d never said, all the things that had gone unspoken but never unfelt.

The space around you thickened, the weight of his thoughtfulness settling into every unspoken inch between you. He hadn’t merely thought of you in passing—he’d carried you with him, held onto this small piece of hope, even when it seemed like whatever you had was just a distant memory, too far gone to ever reach again.

“Oh.” The word slipped from your lips, barely above a whisper, your heart thundering in your chest as you absorbed everything his quiet confession held. You looked up at him, feeling the impact of everything you’d just learned, the depths he’d gone to, the things he’d kept close.

“Ellie told me.”

You felt him still, his hand pressing a little firmer against your hip, grounding himself in the moment. “She did?” His voice was barely audible, tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite name—relief? Regret? A complicated blend of both.

“Yeah,” you replied, voice trembling. “She told me everything… about her bite, about why you left.”

When he finally looked back at you, there was a glimmer of something vulnerable in his eyes—a quiet, almost desperate hope that made your chest ache.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Joel?” The question slipped out, your voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy enough to linger in the air. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Or… at least leave a note?”

The sounds around you faded, the music dimming to nothing as his expression shifted, his gaze dropping. He seemed to struggle, the silence stretching out between you until it felt like it could crack under the weight of everything unsaid.

Finally, he spoke, his voice rough and raw. “I know,” he muttered, barely above a whisper, each word weighed down with regret. “I know it was…fucking stupid. Should’ve told you, should’ve explained. There’s no excuse—I should’ve just…should’ve told you, I think.” He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze dropping as though he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes. “I was scared, and I know that sounds like a damn pathetic excuse, but… it’s the truth.”

He took a shaky breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. “I thought if I just… left quietly, it wouldn’t feel so real. But saying goodbye… I couldn’t face it. Couldn’t face you.” His voice wavered, a crack of vulnerability slipping through. “And now I’d do anything to go back, to change it all. Anything.”

There was a painful honesty in his tone, an ache that seemed to reach down to his very core. His shoulders tensed, his jaw set with the weight of guilt he’d been carrying, a guilt that had carved itself deep into him.

You could see it in the way his gaze wavered, as if he couldn’t quite meet your eyes, as if he was bracing himself for whatever judgment you might cast. In that moment, he was laid bare, stripped of his usual guarded strength, showing you the bruises he kept hidden—the hurt he’d caused himself by walking away.

You stayed silent, the words tangled up in your chest, knotted and aching, fighting to break free.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, carrying a weight that felt almost too heavy to bear. The words hung in the air, soft yet resonant, filled with regret, with longing, with an ache you hadn’t realized was still so raw.

He looked at you, his eyes widening just slightly, a glimmer of something fragile lighting in his gaze. “You… did?” His voice was barely above a murmur, hesitant, like he didn’t dare believe it, yet there was a quiet desperation in his expression—a need to hear it, to let himself hope, even if it was dangerous. The look he gave you made the air feel heavier, thick with all the emotions you’d been holding back.

“Of course I did,” you replied, meeting his gaze and feeling your heart twist at the vulnerability in his face. “You took care of me in ways I didn’t even realize until you were gone.” Your voice dropped, and you looked down, feeling your chest tighten. “I—I couldn’t sleep for months without you there beside me. Didn’t want to admit it, but… it felt like I was drowning without you.”

He looked at you now like you were the answer to something he’d been searching for, as if those words had bridged a chasm he’d thought was too wide to ever cross.

The confession slipped out, raw and unguarded, before you could even think to hold it back. You had spent so long convincing yourself that you were better off without him, telling yourself that you’d moved on, that you didn’t need him.

But the truth was, you hadn’t been whole since he left. Each night, lying alone in the vast emptiness of your bed, it felt as though some vital piece of you was missing, like a wound that refused to heal.

“I thought about you every day,” he murmured, his voice thick, laced with a depth of emotion that made your chest ache. The words lingered between you, heavy with the weight of everything he’d kept buried.

In his eyes, you could see it—the regret, the longing, the silent, unyielding truth he’d been carrying alone. And in that moment, he wasn’t hiding anymore; he was letting himself be seen, stripped of all pretense, finally letting you see the vulnerability he’d kept locked away.

His hand slid down to your hip, then rose slowly, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away, before settling on your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a touch so light it felt like it might disappear if you blinked.

It was intoxicating—not the whiskey, but the overwhelming gravity of him, the way his mere presence made you feel more alive, more vulnerable, than you’d ever thought possible.

Only he could do this—make you feel utterly exposed and entirely safe, with just the whisper of his fingers against your skin.

His thumb drifted down, grazing your bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, his gaze following the movement with a fierce, aching intensity, as though he were memorizing every detail, committing the sensation to memory. “To think,” he murmured, his voice a rough blend of regret and yearning, “I never got to kiss these lips.”

“Joel…” The whisper slipped from your lips, trembling, as if your own voice could barely contain the weight of his name. The ground beneath you felt like it was crumbling, the world narrowing to this one breathless moment. Your knees weakened, a quiet surrender overtaking you, and for the first time, you felt helplessly, beautifully powerless, lost in the ache between his fingertips and his gaze.

You felt his hand slip to the back of your neck, steadying you as he drew you closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body, the solid strength of him grounding you in a way that nothing else could. He gave you a sad smile, one that broke something inside you, because it was tinged with so much sorrow it never quite reached his eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, his voice soft, a little rough, almost like a plea. His hand slid up, guiding you until your head rested against his chest, your ear pressed to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Just… let me hold you,” he whispered, his words thick with an ache he couldn’t hide. “Please… don’t say anything.”

You nodded, sensing the unspoken fear in his eyes—the fear that you might tell him to stop, to pull back, to shatter this fragile closeness he so desperately clung to.

In his arms, you felt something deeper than comfort; it was a sense of belonging, a promise wrapped in the warmth of his hold, a silent assurance that, for this brief moment, everything was as it should be. And yet, somewhere beneath that warmth, there was an ache—a quiet sadness that made it feel like both a beginning and an ending, like a promise and a goodbye, woven together in the quiet, unspoken understanding that neither of you dared to break.

What you didn’t see was Caleb, emerging from the kitchen with a smile that radiated warmth and excitement. His eyes sparkled with the joy of seeing you again, eager to sweep you back into the celebration, to lose himself in the laughter and dance that had defined the night. But as his gaze landed on you and Joel—your hand pressed against Joel’s chest, his arm wrapped around you, the two of you standing impossibly close—Caleb froze.

In an instant, the warmth in his chest turned cold, hardening into a knot of dread that twisted painfully, souring the joy he’d felt only moments before. He saw the way your hand lingered on Joel’s chest, how Joel looked at you with an intensity Caleb could never ignore—a look filled with longing, regret, a depth that seemed to cut straight through him.

Caleb’s chest tightened, his pulse pounding as he took in the scene before him. Here was the man who felt like a shadow over everything Caleb dreamed of—a silent barrier between you and the life he wanted to build, a man who symbolized not just an obstacle, but a threat to the future Caleb had envisioned with you.

•••

A cough broke the silence, slicing through the tension like a blade. Caleb stood in front of you, his expression tightly controlled, but the pain in his eyes spoke louder than words. He wasn’t the kind of man to yell or make a scene, but the quiet devastation in his gaze twisted something deep inside you.

“Mind if I steal my girl for a second?” he said, his voice tight, each word laced with barely contained frustration.

Joel’s shoulders slumped slightly, a flicker of resignation crossing his face as he gave a silent nod. He met your eyes one last time, an unspoken regret hanging there, before he backed away, disappearing into the crowd.

You turned to Caleb, forcing a small, uneasy smile, hoping he wouldn’t bring up what he’d just seen. But he didn’t return your smile. Instead, he swallowed, his jaw clenched, his eyes filled with a hurt that made it hard to meet his gaze.

“What the hell was that?” he asked quietly, his voice carrying a restrained intensity, the simmering anger unmistakable.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, but even to your own ears, the words sounded hollow.

“Don’t.” His tone was sharper than you’d ever heard it, a warning edged with pain. “Don’t lie to me. Not now—not when we’re supposed to be getting married in a month.”

“We were just dancing, Caleb,” you insisted, but the words felt feeble, barely convincing even to yourself.

“Stop,” he said, his voice rising slightly, drawing a few glances from the people nearby. His face twisted with a mixture of hurt and frustration, his control slipping. “Don’t act like I didn’t see what was going on. You think I can’t see it? The way you looked at him?”

He took a shaky breath, his voice trembling as he continued, “I need you to be honest with me, because I can’t do this if there’s any part of you that’s still holding onto him.”

“Can we talk about this later?” you pleaded, feeling the weight of curious eyes around you, your voice a quiet entreaty.

“No.” Caleb’s response was immediate, his frustration evident. “We’re talking about this now.”

“Caleb,” you whispered, glancing around at the people watching, feeling exposed. “Please, not here. Not in front of everyone.”

“I don’t care who’s watching,” he said, his voice lower but unyielding. “I deserve to know what’s going on between you two—right now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy and Maria edging closer, their faces etched with concern as they observed the tension building between you and Caleb. Their presence only added to the weight pressing down on you, the intensity of the moment nearly suffocating.

Caleb’s gaze shifted, his frustration boiling over. “Where the hell is he?” he muttered under his breath, his jaw tight.

As if summoned by the charged air, Joel appeared beside you, his expression calm but his gaze sharp as he looked at Caleb. “No reason to be raising your voice at the lady,” he said, his tone low, but the quiet warning was unmistakable.

Caleb’s face hardened, a bitter sneer twisting his mouth. “I need to talk to you, asshole,” he said, voice taut with anger as he took a step closer to Joel.

“Caleb,” you began, your voice pleading, but he didn’t look at you. His eyes were locked on Joel, the rage barely contained.

“Go ahead,” Joel said coolly, crossing his arms as he met Caleb’s glare head-on, unflinching.

Caleb’s shoulders tensed as he moved even closer, his voice low, but the intensity behind it was unmistakable. “You need to back off. I don’t know what the hell you two had going on, but she’s my fiancée. And I don’t want to see you anywhere near her again.”

Joel’s gaze narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Don’t think that’s your call to make.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Caleb shot back, his voice rising enough to draw more attention, the frustration and hurt evident in his tone.

“Caleb, please,” you whispered, voice cracking, tears welling in your eyes. But he didn’t look at you—his gaze was fixed on Joel, anger and frustration hardening his features. Joel’s eyes, however, were on you, searching, his silent question clear: Are you okay?

“Caleb,” Joel said, his tone even, unshaken, “this isn’t the time. It’s her birthday.”

Caleb let out a bitter laugh, his eyes flashing. “Now you’re acting like you know what’s best for her?” He shook his head, his voice a mixture of hurt and disbelief. “I can’t believe you. You waltz back into her life, and suddenly you’re the one who understands her?”

Joel held his ground, his expression steady. “I’m not pretending to know everything,” he replied quietly. “But I know that right now, she doesn’t need this.”

Caleb clenched his fists, glancing at you, then back at Joel, his voice rising. “And what she needs is you?”

“Caleb, stop,” you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper, but the urgency in it held him in place.

“This isn’t the right time to talk about this,” Joel said, his voice low as he began to turn away, but not before casting a lingering glance your way—a quiet, unspoken reassurance.

But Caleb wasn’t done. “Hey! You don’t get to walk away from me, asshole.” He reached out, his hand gripping Joel’s shoulder, pulling him back with enough force to turn him around to face him directly.

Before you even registered what was happening, Caleb’s fist flew forward, connecting with Joel’s jaw with a force that sent a shockwave through the crowd around you. The impact echoed, silencing the murmur of voices as people turned to stare, wide-eyed.

Joel staggered back, momentarily dazed, his hand rising instinctively to his jaw. But then he steadied himself, his gaze hardening as he looked back at Caleb, a dark determination in his eyes.

“Caleb!” you gasped, stepping forward, but the tension between them was thick, raw, and unyielding, as though neither could hear you. Caleb’s chest heaved with anger, his fists still clenched, and Joel stood his ground, his posture unshaken, his gaze steady, daring Caleb to make the next move.

The silence around you was deafening, everyone waiting to see what would happen next, and you felt a mix of fear and desperation, knowing that whatever came next could change everything.

Joel turned to leave again, clearly trying to defuse the situation, but Caleb wasn’t finished. He grabbed Joel’s arm, yanking him back once more. This time, Joel had reached his limit. In one swift movement, he gripped Caleb’s shoulders firmly, pulling him close enough to speak low, his voice a quiet storm.

“Enough,” Joel hissed, his words sharp and precise, barely contained as he struggled to keep control. His grip on Caleb was firm, a grounding hold that left no room for further argument. There was a finality in his tone, a command that dared Caleb to defy him.

“You got a problem with me, you come to me,” Joel said, his voice low and steady. “Like a man. You don’t ruin her night.”

For a moment, Caleb faltered, his breath coming in heavy, uneven waves as he stared back at Joel, the weight of his words settling over him. The two of them stood in a silent standoff, the tension between them almost palpable, crackling with unspoken resentment and restraint. But Joel’s control—his refusal to let this spiral—spoke louder than any fight could have. His priority was clear, and it wasn’t himself.

As he slowly released his grip, he cast a look back in your direction, his gaze softening for just a heartbeat, a fleeting vulnerability crossing his expression.

You thought it was over.

You thought the tension had finally dissolved, that the confrontation would end with Joel’s final, steady words. But just as Joel began to turn away, you saw a flash of movement—Caleb, his face twisted with embarrassment and anger, lunging forward, fists clenched.

Before you could think, you moved instinctively, stepping between them. “Caleb, stop!” you cried, reaching out, but in the flurry, Caleb’s fist, meant for Joel, swung wildly in the chaos—and in an instant, pain exploded across your eye as his knuckles connected with you instead. You staggered back, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, clutching your face as the room spun in shock.

Caleb’s fist connected with your eye in a swift, unintended blow, and a sharp, blinding pain surged through you, leaving your vision faltering as the shock of it set in. You stumbled back, your hand instinctively flying to your face as the world spun, your eye already throbbing, the pain deep and immediate.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry,” Caleb stammered, his face pale as he stared at you, horror and guilt flashing across his features. He reached out, hands trembling as he tried to come closer. “It was an accident—I didn’t mean to—”

But the words hung there, hollow and helpless, unable to undo the pain or the impact. His eyes were wide, pleading, as though he wished he could take back the last few seconds, erase what had just happened. The shock in his expression, the way he hesitated, spoke to the gravity of the mistake he’d made—a line crossed, one that couldn’t be undone.

Before he could get any closer, Tommy stepped between you, his voice low and firm. “Step back. Right now.”

Caleb’s hands froze mid-air, his face twisted in a mixture of panic and regret. “I didn’t know—I wasn’t aiming for her. It was an accident, I swear!”

“Now,” Tommy repeated, his tone brooking no argument, his steady gaze pinning Caleb in place. The room had fallen into a tense silence, all eyes on the unfolding scene, the weight of what had just happened settling over everyone.

Joel was by your side in an instant, his hand gentle yet firm as it cradled your face, his thumb brushing tenderly just below your eye, which was already starting to swell and bruise. His gaze was frantic, worry etched into every line of his face as he took in the injury, his jaw tightening, eyes flicking with barely restrained anger.

“Hey, darling,” he murmured, his voice soft, steady. “You’re alright. I’m here—I’m right here.”

But the pain, both physical and emotional, overwhelmed you, a sob escaping before you could stop it. “I need to get out of here, Joel,” you managed, your voice breaking as tears slipped down your cheeks. “Please… I can’t be here.”

Without hesitation, Joel slipped his arm around you, his touch solid and reassuring as he led you away, his presence a shield against the stares and murmurs surrounding you. He held you close, his own voice low and steady as he whispered, “I’ve got you. Just breathe. We’re getting out of here, right now.”

Joel guided you home, the short walk feeling like miles with the throbbing pain in your eye. As soon as you reached the door, he had Ellie sprint to his place to grab some painkillers he kept stashed away for his back, the kind tucked into his drawer just for emergencies.

Now, he had you settled on your couch, his presence anchoring you as he sat as close as he could, his fingers brushing carefully beneath your swollen eye, his touch feather-light. His face was etched with worry, a raw, almost desperate guilt darkening his expression. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough with regret. He looked like he’d take the pain on himself if he could.

“It’s not your fault,” you managed, choking on the words as quiet sobs broke through, your breath catching with each one. “I don’t even know why I stepped forward—I just… I didn’t want him to hit you again.”

He stilled, his gaze softening as he reached up to gently wipe away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “My darlin’ girl,” he whispered, the endearment filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I can’t stand seein’ you like this, hurtin’ like this.”

He looked around, his concern shifting to impatience. “Where the hell is Ellie?” he muttered, glancing toward the door as though he could summon her with sheer will, his urgency clear—he couldn’t bear to see you in pain one second longer than necessary.

And though the ache in your eye throbbed, his touch, his presence, and the warmth in his voice softened the edges, leaving you with the feeling that, as long as he was here, you’d be alright.

Just then, Ellie burst in, breathless and wide-eyed, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief as she took in the scene. “Holy shit,” she exclaimed, eyes darting between you and Joel. “That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Ellie,” Joel cut her off, his tone firm but gentle as he motioned to the bottle in her hand. “Give me those, and grab some water from the kitchen, would ya?”

Without hesitation, Ellie handed over the painkillers, her gaze lingering on you with concern before she hurried into the kitchen. Joel opened the bottle, easing you upright with one hand, his touch warm and steady.

“Here, baby,” he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a quiet tenderness as he held the glass to you and placed a pill in your hand. “Take this—it’ll help.”

You took the pill, letting his words and touch ground you as you sipped the water he offered. The throbbing pain dulled just slightly in the warmth of his care, and as you met his gaze, you saw something there—an unspoken promise, a reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Ellie dropped onto the other couch, her brows knit in worry as she took in your bruised face. “That’s a nasty black eye,” she muttered, her voice caught between worry and a strange sort of awe.

“Ellie,” Joel’s voice held a gentle but unmistakable warning. “Go on home. It’s past your bedtime.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “It’s only ten!” she protested, but the look he gave her softened her defiance. With a huff, she stood up, glancing back at you with genuine concern.

“Hey… I hope you feel better soon,” she said, her voice quieter, sincere. She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Joel before she added, “And, uh—Joel’ll take care of you. You’re in good hands.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, the warmth of her concern and Joel’s steady presence easing some of the ache. Ellie nodded, satisfied, and slipped out the door, leaving you alone with Joel in the soft quiet, the sense of safety he radiated settling around you like a blanket.

The pain had started to dull, though your vision remained blurred, Joel’s figure splitting slightly into a hazy double image as he leaned in close, his hand resting steady and grounding on your shoulder.

“You alright? Warm enough?” he asked, his voice gentle but thick with concern, his eyes scanning your face as if he could will the pain away.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine, Joel,” you managed, offering a faint, wavering smile. “Thank you for getting me out of there. I… I’ve never seen him like that—so angry.”

Joel’s expression shifted, his jaw setting as something dark and fierce flickered in his gaze. He shook his head, his mouth tightening, frustration etched into every line of his face. “He had no right,” he muttered, his voice low, barely restrained. “Of all damn nights—on your birthday, no less. That asshole…” His words trailed off, the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior, as though he was holding back an urge to storm out and finish what had been started.

“You know you deserve better than that, right?” Joel’s voice was soft but firm, his gaze steady as he looked at you, waiting for the words to sink in. “I would never… I can’t imagine ever doing that to you.”

There was an honesty in his tone, a quiet conviction that made your chest tighten. His hand lingered on your shoulder, warm and grounding, and the way he looked at you—as if you were someone precious, someone worth protecting—stirred something deep within you, a feeling you’d buried for too long.

For a moment, the pain in your eye, the embarrassment of the night, all of it faded under the weight of his words, his presence.

“I know you wouldn’t,” you murmured, your voice barely holding steady as you let out a shaky breath. Slowly, you lifted your hand, your fingers grazing the angle of his jaw where Caleb’s punch had left a faint bruise, half-hidden beneath the roughness of his beard. Your touch was soft, tentative, tracing the bruise with a gentleness that seemed to make him wince, though he didn’t pull away. His gaze stayed locked on yours, unwavering, intense, as though he was absorbing every part of this moment.

“Bet I look awful,” you tried to joke, a faint laugh escaping, but the self-consciousness gnawed at you, awareness flooding in as you thought of the swelling around your eye, the bruises marking your skin. Embarrassment washed over you, and you began to pull your hand back, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath his steady gaze.

But Joel’s hand moved swiftly, catching yours, his fingers curling around yours, holding your hand against his cheek. “Don’t,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, a quiet command wrapped in tenderness.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours, filled with a look so unguarded, so filled with admiration, it left you breathless. “You’re beautiful. Don’t ever doubt that. Even now… you’re still the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”

His words settled around you, filling the space between you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely holding steady as you looked up at him, feeling every part of you drawn to him, helpless to resist. “Kiss me.”

Something flickered in his eyes—a mixture of longing and relief, like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. In an instant, the space between you disappeared. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his breath warm against your lips, hovering for a heartbeat, letting every ounce of tension swell until it felt like you might break from it.

Then he kissed you, his lips claimed yours with a fervor that took your breath away, the kiss deep and consuming, as if he were pouring years of waiting, of unspoken feelings, into this single, electric moment.

His hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his other arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel his heartbeat, wild and fierce, mirroring your own, a rhythm that seemed to fill every inch of you.

The kiss deepened, his lips moving over yours with an intensity that left you dizzy, the world blurring until nothing else existed but the heat of his mouth, the strength of his arms, the way he held you as if he’d finally found what he’d been searching for.

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as he pulled you impossibly closer, the space between you vanishing entirely.

When he finally drew back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathless, he didn’t let go. His hand lingered, fingers grazing your jaw, his eyes searching yours, a quiet intensity in them that made your pulse race all over again.

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@denisanoemi @prnxcessfics @orcasoul @rosebuds-and-moonlight @rescuethewretched

@valkyreally @ccmoonshine @dlwrish @immyowndefender @babygals-world @zenrobbins0021 @malfoycassimalfoy @damneddamsy @atenceladusiaawfytbwb @frogjumps-world @dendulinka6 @orcasoul @whirlwindrider29 @lol-im-done

@somedayheaven @ohdearvalentine @keseqna @kulekehe

@darkheartgatita @ickearmn @spacegirl-3 @mystickittytaco

@sukunnayuuji @jasminedragoon @merm4id5lut @ickearmn

@dugiioh @ginsan-eyes @smoochispoof @off-dreaming-again @cynicalbunny @dendulinka6 @w-w-a-n-d-r-l-u-s-t-t @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @spacemamax @lizzie-cakes @off-dreaming-again @cumberpeggg @agnus04 @laliceee @bambisweetheartss @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @joelspeach @queen-since-97 @maried01

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