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meet-me-backstage · 11 days ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ꥟ Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ꥟ It had been years since you ran away from Joel Miller, a hunter, frightened for your life and of who he had become. Before the infected roamed he was the grumpy single father of a chirpy little girl who lived across the street from you and kept himself to himself… until he didn’t, not with you at least when you began watching over Sarah while he couldn’t. He became someone who you could talk to, a friend dare you say, a silly little crush and your lifeline at the beginning of the apocalypse.

Now you are residing in Jackson, a slice of heaven in a cruel world, the perfect distraction from your past and the hell you went through to get away from it. However, you realise that the past really does always come back to haunt you when all too familiar faces arrive at Jackson and you have no other choice but to face Joel again, who makes it his mission to fix your broken friendship.

Unable to fight your heart, feelings resurface and lines blur when it becomes clear that you are just as much Joel’s lifeline as he is yours.

𝑨 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ꥟ Horror themes, not following the second season/game so kinda au, reader can sing and play guitar, weapons, bad language, death, grief, parental neglect, angst, mentions of pregnancy and stillbirth, blood, violence, nightmares, PTSD, a lil smidge of dark!Joel, Jackson!Joel, soft & protective with a bit of a dad bod!Joel, unrequited love until it isn’t, jealousy, mutual pining, age gap (reader is 36 and Joel is 56) and smUUUUT (‼️) so you must be 18+ to read❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 ꥟ 10.5K (wtaf🫢)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 ꥟ Horror themes, mention of death, grief, mentions of pregnancy and stillbirth, mention of blood and vomit, PTSD, nightmares, bad language and weapons.

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲, 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝! <𝟑

⇜ ⌚️ ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⌚️

NOW

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

His voice haunts your mind day and night. It had lingered, wormed its way into the depths of your brain and buried itself into the trench-like indents of it like the parasitic fungi that had wreaked havoc on the world twenty years ago. It's crazy really, how you could not decide what was worse, the infected or Joel Miller...

On days like today, you almost wish that you had been mauled by one of those rotting monsters instead of ever having been under that intense and unwavering brown stare of his. A bite from a runner and Joel's existence, they're not all that different to you. If you'd have been bitten, at least you knew that it'd be over within a few days, that the pain inflicted upon you would only be temporary... that deep and harsh Texan drawl, it had you in that stage between being bitten and losing your mind, except it was never ending, a permanent, inescapable limbo.

You'd lost hope in ever forgetting, it's been sixteen years since you last heard his voice in the flesh so how could you even fathom an escape from it at this point?

All you could do was throw yourself shoulders deep into distractions, hay and horse manure being two of them.

Every day you arrived at Jackson Ranch bright and early to tend to the horses. Your role there as a stable-hand is ideal and smooth-running, usually, and it comes with a bonus of company in the form of large-scale dogs, your preferred company, though you would never tell Maria that.

Justified, Ajax, Callus, Silver Dollar, Maggie, Old Beardy, Guinevere, Old Belle, Branwen, Murphy, Old Boy, Bandit, Pearl and Shimmer. All a mix of stallions and mares, friends you never knew you needed until you took on this job that you had very little experience in before the end of the world as you knew it.

Going beyond Jackson's sturdy walls was a no go so patrolling was out of the question.

Some roles going required previous experience, either in medicine or biology so you couldn't be a doctor.

Being a teacher or hunter crossed your mind for a split second before making you sick to your stomach.

Taking on the role of a cook, barmaid or trader meant that you had to constantly face people, be sociable and smile even when you didn't want to, and you were in no state to do or be any of it seven years ago, when Maria found a desolate Jackson and sought to build a settlement out of it.

That left only three jobs for you to pick from: keeping Jackson maintained, the greenhouses thriving or the horses healthy, groomed and content. Initially, you chose to be a gardener... you lasted six months. It had brought back some meaning into your life, knowing that you were doing good for the community from a distance that you could tolerate, that it'd brighten the food palette of all of Jackson's residents and that the kids of Jackson would grow up healthy and well fed. The catch for you was the quietness of the role, the silence was deafening and allowed too much space in your mind for it to drown into the depths of what you'd lost to get here.

You felt even more useless than you did before you met Maria, who did everything she could to help you fit into a community that you didn't believe in anymore. With a stern knock on your door one morning, she practically dragged you by the arm to Jackson Ranch and coerced you into the hands of Rick, the man in charge of the ranch, in order for him to train you into the hard-working stable-hand that you are today.

Maria had, had it less than easy, leading a group of people who looked to her and her late father for guidance in a cause that didn't seem attainable when people were constantly dying around them.

Like you, she had to make life-altering decisions for the good of herself and others she'd met along the way.

Tagging along with her was not a choice that you made, neither was living or dying, Maria made both choices for you. It had been a walk in the park, the years you spent with her group searching for a decent place to start a new life, at least when you compared it to the hell that you went through to find her group in the first place.

Leaving your first and only group before joining Maria's was a gut-wrenching decision, the toughest one you've ever had to make. You knew that there would be risks, danger and fatal consequences if anything went wrong... you knew it - god, you knew it, yet you still went along with it anyway and you sure did suffer the worst of consequences on your journey from Boston to Colorado.

You hadn't been alone on your month and a half long journey, two others were with you, Charlie, a runaway hunter and an unlikely friend that you'd gained on your way to the Boston QZ from Austin. The other, well, you tried not to think about him too much.

Unlike Maria, you'd failed because neither made it to her camp alive.

You made it... empty and alone, which was the biggest consequence of all.

Though you were entirely unaware that you had. You didn't remember collapsing in the snow with a stillborn baby in your arms, being found by a handful of Maria's group just a few miles from the very people you'd tried so hard to find, and taken back to her camp on horseback.

Sixteen years had passed and still all you could remember was waking up, the bright whiteness of a medical light making your eyes strain, an unusual and rapid beeping noise and slurred voices that you didn't recognise all around you. Once your consciousness came over you, your eyes blinking constantly to try and adjust to the unusual light, you remember panicking, noticing the lack of blood and dirt on your skin before kicking your legs out from under a heavy white duvet and desperately straining out cries to see your baby and Charlie.

Your breath hitches, getting trapped in your throat before you gulp, swallowing the air down quickly as you subtly shake your head and mumble a 'nope' under your breath, choosing to steer your focus onto the task at hand.

You usually spend the first hour of your morning in the stable and today has been no different. You fill the wire racks hanging off of the edge of each stall with fresh hay, starting from the closest to the entrance and working your way down. Then you groom and dress the horses required for each patrol shift that had been listed next to the names on the patrol board on your way into the stable this morning.

During the winter months more horses are needed for each patrol shift due to the increased likelihood of running into a horde at this time.

Not even a blizzard could stop them from pushing through routes towards Jackson - you'd seen it for yourself, how they ran as if the strength of violent gusts of air was no match against them... and not only that, they were typically more angry from being so ravenous at the lack of animals and humans around so you weren't surprised that Maria had made sure numbers of patrollers had doubled with the thaw that came yesterday evening, the infected would travel easy and fast while the weather was this clear, desperate to find their next victim.

You were still surprised to see that Maria's name had been messily jotted down alongside Maggie's.

Maggie had always been Maria's girl, she would accept no one but Jackson's chosen leader so you knew that it couldn't have been a mistake, and even if it was you'd learnt to accept the fact that there is no fighting Rick because he is 'always right'. Recalling one of your first pointers during training, you do as what is written and dress the mare anyway before dedicating an equal amount of time with each horse as if they are children fussing for your attention.

You're stroking Maggie's pink muzzle, your fingers gently tracing just below her nostrils when you hear your name being called behind you. You flinch, making your fingertips brush over her whiskers and causing her to snort.

"Is Maggie ready for me?" Maria asks, strolling into the stable with purpose, wearing clothes suitable for beyond Jackson's walls, a padded forest green winter jacket over a faded brown shirt paired with jeans and snow boots.

You turn on your heel, your palm cupping just above Maggie's nose, "she's ready for you," you respond with a nod, pursing your lips together after as if to stop yourself from vocalising your worry. You watch her cautiously as she walks towards Maggie, naturally stepping out of the way so that she can lead the horse out of the stall. Your lips pop open unconsciously, a hum leaving them before you cut it short - you can't just let her go, "but—"

She cuts you off with a deadpan look, Maggie does the same, side-eyeing you as if to say 'don't question my human'.

You shut your mouth for a brief moment as Maria and Maggie resume their movements towards the opened stable doors that go directly to Jackson's main gate. "Maria—"

"I'm fine," she calls without turning her head to look at you, still walking and leading Maggie.

"Hey," you start jogging, catching up with her while being careful not to spook Maggie, "hang on a second - are you sure?" You reach out to touch Maria's arm in order to grab her attention, your fingertips brush against her jacket, "I'm sure they can spare yo—"

"No, I've got it," she states casually, ignoring your touch.

"Or - or someone can fill in for you, there's gotta be someone else? What about - T-ommy?" Your eyes light up at the idea but your voice still trembles slightly when his name leaves your lips, though you try your best to hide it by lowering it.

"Tommy is doin' construction work today, you'd know that if you showed up to dinner last night," Maria sighs, finally halting her steps and giving you an expectant glance over her left shoulder.

Oh.

Your head tilts and your brows furrow in genuine confusion that Maria doesn't seem to buy, but you truly didn't remember her inviting you over.

When she notices your confusion she raises her brows at you, now turning her entire body to face yours, "I visited you at the end of your shift here yesterday? You really don't remember me asking you to come over?"

Oh.

She did.

Your eyes widen in realisation and your grip on Maria's upper arm tightens for a moment, "shit - I'm so sorry, Maria."

"You said you'd be right over."

You did.

Unable to think of an excuse quickly enough that you already know she won't believe and will make her late for patrol when she'd already made the effort of being here early to pick up Maggie, it'll only aggravate her more to lie to her face… and you hated to let Maria down of all people, she took a chance on you, believing in your survival more than anyone else did when you were weak and unable to move from the bed that her people had tucked you into after finding you unconscious in the snow.

"I'm sorry - I forgot," you tell her, sheepishly avoiding eye contact and deciding to focus on the straws of hay stuck to the bottom of your own snow boots.

Maria hums, scrutinising you with her deep brown eyes, "You forgot," she repeats before placing her spare hand on her hip, "like when you forgot to decorate the Christmas tree with us? When you forgot open mic night? Or the countless times you forgot drinks at the Tipsy Bison?"

"Yes," you answer quickly, your hand dropping down to your side as your palms start to sweat at her questioning, "exactly like all those other times I - forgot." Very convincing. "I'm sorry - again."

She shakes her head and blinks slowly, doing very little to hide her annoyance towards you, "stop apologizing."

"Sorry," you mumble without thinking.

"Don't. Just - show up next time, okay?" Maria asks you with a raised brow. "Tommy doesn't bite."

"You sure about that?" You try to joke but you end up sounding unsure instead.

You failed to amuse Maria as it hadn't been the first time you'd tried to mask your uneasiness with humor whenever Tommy was mentioned. "I've given him enough trouble from the first day he stepped foot in Jackson and he's done nothing but prove himself time and again. He's a good worker - a good man... and he's really tryin' to get on your good side so will you please try cutting him some slack?"

"I'm - workin' on it," you sigh out, nodding with a lack of purpose that, again, Maria notices.

She exhales your name slowly, quietly, but loud enough for you to hear, "He is not his brother." Maria never mentions his name because she knows how just the sound of it sends you into a period of sleepless nights and locking yourself into your house after a horrific array of nightmares... it'd happened before, the worst time being when Tommy first arrived at Jackson.

You thought that you could do it, that you could ignore his existence just like you had Joel's.

Whenever you saw him turn a corner you'd run the other way.

Whenever you saw him on the street you'd turn back.

Whenever you saw him in the Tipsy Bison you'd trade week's worth of your rations for a bottle of red and go home.

It wasn't until his unexpected visit to the stable for his first patrol three and a half months ago that he finally saw you for the first time since leaving you, Joel, Tess and Charlie behind to join the Fireflies.

As you suspected, he was surprised to see you, perhaps because he'd thought that you would never make it in a world like this, because you were unwilling to kill innocent people, young and at a disadvantage being pregnant, or because he'd forgotten about you entirely. Either way, you didn't stick around long enough to find out, feigning a sudden sickness and begging Rick to let you go home before sprinting out of the stable like your life depended on it... that was what caused your worst episode.

Hearing his voice utter your name, he sounded so much like Joel and it terrified you.

It played on a loop inside your head like a scratched record and when you tried to settle into your bed it only got louder, so you grabbed your pillow, pressing it against the ear exposed to the cool air of your room as hard as you could while scrunching your eyes shut.

Eventually you fell asleep, but Tommy's voice followed you into your rest.

You saw Joel and you saw blood, it was all over him and he wielded a revolver in his hand. A droplet of sweat trailed along the end of an eyebrow, disappearing when it reached the crow's foot beside his eye. His eyes pierced into your soul, dark and concentrated, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly and small whimpers to leave your lips in between heavy breaths.

There were dead bodies everywhere. The blood of his innocent victims puddled at your bare feet, staining your skin crimson red.

You screamed and ran, but Joel's voice continued to utter your name and the blood - the blood... it rose quickly, making it difficult for your legs to move as fast. Determined to get away, you waded through the thick liquid as it consumed your bottom half. Your hands were encased in blood too, the warmness of it on your skin grasped your attention and stopped you in your tracks... you couldn't move, you couldn't yell, you couldn't get away - you failed - again.

You silently cried into your hands, not caring about smearing the blood all over your face because you knew that there was no escaping it, that before too long your entire body would be swimming in it.

Elevating with the rapidity of quick sand, you remember the blood reaching your neck and throwing your arms outward, wailing and kicking your feet desperately... Joel's voice sounded angrier than it usually did, like he was disappointed in your fighting, in prolonging the inevitable.

There was a pull beneath you, sucking your feet downward, and just when you thought that you'd beaten the nightmare, something, you didn't know what it was as your eyes were scrunched shut, dragged you down with inhumane force.

You didn't get to take one last breath before the blood pooled over your face, you opened your eyes but all you could see was red. You could still hear his voice, but it was muffled, and as you got pulled further down it got more distant until it faded into nothingness - finally.

A sense of calmness spread throughout your entire body, all you could hear was the rush of liquid past your ears as you got pulled down.

It calmed you even though you were far from safe and unable to breathe... that was until an intense pressure started at your toes, then to your feet, your ankles, knees, thighs, hips, stomach, hands, arms, chest, shoulders, neck and head. The pressure became unbearable, your bones felt as though they could snap at any moment and your throat choked when it got so desperate to breathe that it let the blood into your system.

The next thing you knew, your eyes had flown open. You were back in bed, your entire body so clammy with sweat that it had dampened your sheets and duvet.

You refused to sleep for weeks on end. You'd think that after a couple days your body would succumb to sleep without your brain's permission due to being so exhausted, but you were just that terrified that it'd happen to you again... that you'd hear Joel's voice again. To stop any possibility of that happening you locked your front door from the inside, your logic being if you stayed put then there would be no chance of bumping into Tommy again... boy were you wrong.

So wrong.

Maria watches the way that your lips tremble, waiting for you to answer her. Her features are much softer now as she realises that she had been so close to stepping over another line just by alluding to Tommy's older brother.

She says your name under her breath again, but you cut her off, shaking your head, "It's okay," you whisper, your voice small, and you try your best to muster up a smile to reassure your closest friend in Jackson, "I - I know... Tommy isn't him, so I'll try, for you - and for the - baby," your voice lowers when you mention Maria's baby.

It is new news that only Maria, Tommy, Maggie and you know about.

"Thank you," she hums, her lips tilting upward at one side and a glimmer in her eyes.

A glimmer that you recognised all too well, a familiar yet distant memory of how you felt that brings back the worry that you expressed just a few minutes ago at the thought of Maria going beyond the safe barrier of Jackson while pregnant. It’s only natural for you to be concerned about her, even if it is Tommy's baby, you see the love that she already has for it which you came to understand during your own experience, only for it to be ripped away... you wouldn't wish what happened to you upon your worst enemy, let alone Maria.

"Eight O'clock!" As if on cue, Rick calls into the stable from outside, giving both you and Maria a charming smile, sounding way too chirpy for the morning before disappearing behind the stable's front doors.

Your eyes widen and your mouth forms an 'o' shape for a moment when you remember that you still hadn't dissuaded Maria from going on patrol.

"I'll be fine, I promise," she reassures you, sensing your worry. "It's only a few hours," she adds nonchalantly.

"A lot can happen in a few hours," you retort quickly, sternly, holding firm eye contact with her, which is unusual for you - Maria knows that, understanding the truth in your words because you knew yourself how quickly things could turn out there.

"I know." Maria looks over your shoulder and gestures behind you with a nod. You can hear footsteps and the trotting of hooves behind you of the patrollers that'd be joining Maria, leading the dressed horses to Rick, who would mark them off on the register by the schedule board. "I'm in good hands," she tells you as they come into view, walking past you with smiles on their faces directed at both you and Maria, though you couldn't help but notice how their smiles widened at the sight of your friend.

You aren't surprised - everyone loves Maria.

She has done so much for everybody here, while you, you kept to yourself, the horses and an occasional sing song at the Tipsy Bison - otherwise, you are unreachable, not that you preferred it to be any other way.

"Mornin', Maria," Arthur nods, holding Murphy's reigns while giving the stallion's white coat a pat and you a small smile.

Two less familiar faces walk past holding Old Boy, Silver Dollar, Guinevere and Callus, they must be Silas and Claire, two names you didn't recognise on the list of patrol shifts.

Nathan is a regular on patrol, one of the most experienced alongside Arthur, so it is no surprise that Rick had assigned the two newbies a spot with them and Maria.

Bandit follows Nathan, his head bopping forward playfully, a cheekiness that he seemed to adopt from the man leading him. "Ladies," Nathan tips his hat with a smirk, oozing arrogance.

Jean follows close behind Nathan holding Ajax at her side with a fond smile on her face. She loves that horse just as much as you love him. He's a big brute, Ajax, intimidating at first glance, but he's just a softie under the muscle.

Jean's blonde hair catches your eye, it sways as she walks as she's put it up in a ponytail. She grins widely at you, displaying her dimples and squeals your name, "where've you been?!"

"Uh - here?" You answer unsurely.

Jean laughs, stopping to stand in between you and Maria, nudging your shoulder with her own, "duh, I mean at the tipsy - everyone misses ya!"

"Be serious, Jean," you mutter, ignoring Maria's stare as if you hadn't just been speaking about your obvious avoidance of any invitation if there was any possibility that Tommy would be there... which was always high because he’d followed Maria around like a lost puppy from the very first day he arrived here.

"I am - even Seth misses you and he's the biggest party pooper in Jackson," she exclaims with another light-hearted laugh.

You shake your head in amused disbelief.

"It's true, so you've gotta come back and sing a couple songs for us, please?" She grabs your arm, making you flinch, but you already know it's Jean and she wouldn't hurt a fly... unless it was infected. "I'll rip my eyes out if I have to sit through another night of Dave's jokes about drugs, dildos and chameleons."

So that's what you've been missing out on all this time that you've been avoiding open mic nights at the Tipsy Bison.

A small laugh escapes your mouth, "I'll think about it."

"Really?!" Jean's hazel-brown eyes light up.

You nod.

Jean inhales excitedly, clearly already assuming that your vague answer is a confirmation that you would in fact be performing at the next open mic. "Your version of that Linda Rondstadt song - ugh, what’s it called again?" She asks, looking both between you and Maria.

"Err - Long Long Time?" You sound unsure, but it's the only Linda Ronstadt song that you've sung at the Tipsy Bison so it's the only possible answer... you blame your forgetfulness on the nerves of singing in front of other people, each time you did it felt like a blur and when it was over you didn't remember a goddamn thing.

Jean nods enthusiastically, practically bouncing on her feet at this point, "yes, that's it! It's to die for - you have to sing it again!"

You forgot the warmth that would spread throughout your chest when random people of Jackson would approach you after you sang, complimenting the one gift you still had from long before the apocalypse... you never remembered what they said, but the buzz it'd give you was enough for you to brave any fright you faced before the next open mic. It's a good feeling - another thing you had Maria to thank for because you would never have even thought of stepping in front of an audience to sing had she not nudged you to do it two years ago.

"Please!" Jean begs again.

Whether it's the warmness of your insides, or the pressure of having two sets of eyes on you, or how guilty you'll feel if you say no, you cave, "okay okay, I'll do it."

Jean celebrates by fisting the air with a toothy grin, "yes! Thank you - you've made my Christmas, seriously!"

You open your mouth to respond, about to say something like 'it's nothing really' while internally panicking, asking yourself what you'd gotten yourself into without even really processing it in your head.

"Eight O'clock!" Rick's voice calls out again, sounding more stern this time, "last call!"

His piercingly blue eyes linger on the three of you huddled together while the patrollers that had walked past you stood waiting to leave behind him.

They bore into you, Rick's baby blues, silently urging you to wrap up your conversation with Maria and Jean. If they hadn't looked so agitated with you you'd probably swoon... instead they give you the urge to flip him off, to question him on his timing because if he'd have just called Maria and Jean over to him ten seconds earlier then you would've evaded Jean's request for you to sing again.

You don't.

You never would.

For a man who didn't tolerate bullshit, he'd tolerated a lot from you and you'd never take that for granted.

On the plus side, Jean hadn't had time to ask why you stopped going to the open mics in the first place, how your best friend's husband was the reason, how whenever you saw Tommy in the Tipsy Bison you felt like you needed to vomit then and there, then leave...

You nod at Rick, taking a step away from Maria. Jean had already left the two of you alone, jumping upright at the sound of Rick's voice and obediently scurrying towards him with Ajax eagerly treading along behind her. "Well, don't let me hold you up any longer," you mutter loud enough for Maria to hear, nervously dragging your eyes away from Rick's.

Maria shakes her head, the lines between her eyebrows prominent, "you didn't." Maggie snorts over Maria's shoulder, immediately diverting her owner's attention to her, "Maggie doesn't seem to agree though, do you girl?" Maria asks in an amused, but loving tone of voice, bringing her hand up to pat Maggie's neck.

"Oh please, that horse kisses your ass even when you're wrong."

"I'm never wrong," Maria states, to which Maggie neighs in agreement.

"Exactly, she just proved my point," you gesture towards Maggie with an uncontrollable laugh.

Maria hums, watching you closely with an entranced smile on her face. "I missed this," she admits.

"Missed what?"

"Just laughing - talking with you without feeling like you're gonna run away any second."

A hint of a smile spreads across your lips, shy and nervous as always, but you had to admit that you'd missed this too, you'd missed your best friend... it'd been so awkward since Tommy started to linger behind her like a shadow, like you could never spend time with her because he was always with her. Now that they are married with a baby on the way - you just had to accept that Tommy and Maria came as a package, that where Maria would be, Tommy would probably be... you suppose you should be glad of that, that he wants to be there for her, be a good husband and father.

You never pegged Tommy to be the type to commit to anything or anyone. The man you knew before would run whenever things got hard, that was crystal clear to you. This Tommy, he was different, from what you'd heard from whispers about him, and you can tell how happy he makes Maria even though she doesn't talk about him to you that much on the rare occasion that you do catch her alone.

Maybe you could give him a chance, give him the benefit of the doubt.

To pick up where you left off with your friendship with Maria you tell yourself that you won't 'forget' another invitation again, that's a good place to start, you think.

For Maria.

For you too.

"Me too."

Maria chuckles while you fiddle with your fingers. "I'll see you later then?" She raises her brow at you.

"Later?" Your head tilts in confusion, not remembering another invitation being offered to you during this conversation.

"Mhm, at the Tipsy Bison—"

Your eyes widen so much that they could fall out of their sockets and suddenly your palms are dripping with sweat again, "please tell me there's not an open mic tonight I haven't practiced I haven't even sung in like four months I can't do it I can't I'm callin' off this whole thing why did I even agree to it in—" you ramble without taking a single breath.

"Relax, open mic isn't until next weekend," she informs you, trying not to sound entertained by your moment of panic.

You let out a long, drawn out breath of relief, "well thank fuck for that because I'm not ready."

"You realize you don't have to do it if you really don't want to right?"

"I know, but I couldn't do that to Jean. You saw her face, she'll be heartbroken if I don't," you try to play it cool, smiling as if you hadn't gotten yourself into a state over it a few seconds ago.

"No kidding."

"So if it's not an open mic, what is happening tonight - at the Tipsy? Just drinks? Dinner?" You ask, innocently curious... you'd gotten so used to the repetitive cycle of going to work and going straight home every day for so long that you had no idea what to expect from a night out with Maria at the Tispy Bison anymore.

"The Goodbye Girl," she answers plain and simple.

"What's that?"

She shrugs, "an old romantic comedy I think. I wanted to do something for the kids and it's the most family friendly movie we've got right now so... you'll be there?"

"Is—"

"Yes, Tommy's coming," she interrupts with the answer you're expecting, just as she expected you to ask because it was what you always asked whenever she invited you over or out... her answer being the decision-maker of whether you'd be there or not most of the time.

Maria watches you, so sure that you're going to cower and say 'no' immediately, but you don't, you think and she lets you, ignoring the stares of the other patrollers boring into her back.

Maybe there is nothing to be afraid of, if Joel were to show up then surely he would've got here by now?

Surely Tommy is too far away for Joel to track him down.

There can't be any leads linking Tommy to Jackson that Joel would ever find out about, right?

With what you went through to be here, how could you let a close to impossible possibility dictate the way you live at Jackson, make you hide away and ruin your closest friendship here.

Maria's lips fly open, ready to console you if you truly decide that tonight is too soon, "if—"

"I'll be there," you blurt before your brain talks you out of it.

"Oh - okay," Maria blurts back, so taken aback by your confidence that she actually takes a small step back, narrowly missing Maggie's hoof, "okay - good. Guess I'll see you there then," she says almost to herself, her relief as clear as day, as she turns on her heel.

"See you there," you nod, giving her one last reassuring look before Maggie catches your eye.

The mare stares at you with her beady brown eyes, silently telling you that you'd taken up enough of Maria's time and that it was now her turn.

She leads Maria away from you, taking her to the rest of the patrollers.

You're left feeling hopeful about tonight, that this'll be a good change for both you and Maria after months of avoiding every possible interaction with her husband... you don't want to let her down anymore, and for your own sake you don't want to turn into the resident hermit of Jackson... people here already think you're a little odd as it is.

You watch on as Rick takes a register of the patrollers and their horses. Each of them had already mounted their designated horses and Nathan and Arthur are holding the spare horses that'd be carrying any extra cargo they find out there.

The horses that remain watch on longingly as the horses picked for this patrol shift are ridden out of the stable.

Old Beardy lets out a low pitched snort, expressing his frustration which diverts your attention from the patrol group to him.

He is sticking his head out of his stall and as soon as he sees that he has grabbed your attention he bobs his neck, making you giggle.

Old Beardy is a shy boy, grumpy at times. At first he didn't like you, he refused to be petted by you and even turned his back on you whenever you visited his stall, side-eying you at any opportunity he could. You had been cautious of him at first, doing your upmost to avoid him because you were genuinely afraid that he might bite or kick you if you got too close.

He sensed your fear, you knew it, Rick knew it.

Rick assisted you in tending to Old Beardy for your first few weeks as a stable-hand. You'd groom the stallion's chocolate coat while Rick patted his dark mane, you'd fill his feeder with new hay and trough with fresh water while Rick distracted him, you'd clean his stall while Rick took him out on the exercise grounds at the other end of the stable.

In those moments you noticed a softness to Old Beardy's character that made you less frightened of him.

Rick's own words played in your head on repeat after another day's work, another day of Old Beardy entirely ignoring you: 'Old Beardy doesn't just trust words, he trusts actions more than anything. Keep showin' up and doin' what you're doin' for him and eventually he'll come around, I'm sure of it.'

'Was he the same with you?'

'You bet - he was worse with me.'

'Worse?'

'Yup, he nipped me right here - just above my nose - was lucky he didn't catch my damn eye.'

'I don't believe it.'

'Why'd you say that? Got the scar to prove it and everythin'.’

'It's just - you're so good with 'em - all of 'em.'

'That, darlin', is what you call experience. I've had my fair share of tendin' to tortured souls like Old Beardy, often all it took was showin' 'em that they need takin' care of. If they've been alone a long time they start thinkin' they don't need anybody cause 's been a while since they've been given any love, so you've gotta get 'em off their high horse a bit 'nd show em' they need you.'

You were determined to gain Old Beardy's trust after what Rick had said about him because it reminded you of yourself... so you continued to go about your chores for Old Beardy while he watched on with an unimpressed look on his face.

Slowly but surely there were changes as each week passed.

Rick no longer needed to aid you with Old Beardy's upkeep.

Old Beardy no longer turned his back on you when you stood at the gate of his stall.

He side-eyed you a little longer than he used to.

While you filled his trough with new water he'd stand beside you.

He would take singular straws of hay out of your hands in order to avoid touching you... then two, then three and soon he took handfuls of it, not minding his rubbery lips brushing your fingers.

You remember walking back home with a skip in your step the day that Old Beardy finally let you pet him. It was about a month into your personal quest to earn his trust and it took a little coaxing from Rick on both yours and the stallion's part to encourage the barrier of wariness between you to be broken down.

About ten seconds after you'd slowly reached your hand out towards Old Beardy's muzzle, he leant forward to rest his soft nose against your outstretched palm... His nostrils flared and he hesitated a few times but he did it, and suddenly what felt like a lost cause from the beginning was worth all the time he spent rejecting you now that you'd got him.

You'd received an intense dose of self-accomplishment which made you feel like you were really made for this job... you wondered why you ever even doubted yourself about taking it on in the first place, and you certainly couldn't give up on it after that... you always returned to it, even after all the nightmares and days stuck in your house, you had to after Old Beardy had put so much trust in you.

You'd shown him love and he needed you, and perhaps you needed him too.

You'd argue now that Old Beardy loves you more than he does Rick.

"There's my sweet boy," you greet him with a toothy smile, approaching his stall. He continues to bob his head even when you're stood directly in front of him so you bring your hand up to try and soothe him. A few gentle snorts later and he stops moving his head so that you have easy access to his nose to give him a good scratch under his chin - his favorite. You giggle at his obvious appreciation for your touch, your fingers tickle the small beard below his bottom lip, causing his eyes to shut and occasionally flutter his dark lashes, "don't you worry, somebody'll snatch you up one of these days - I mean look at you, how could they not hm?"

Old Beardy lets out an impatient sigh that blows air onto your forearm.

All of the patrollers without designated horses never picked Old Beardy for a shift, likely for the reasons that you had once been afraid of, so he spent all of his days with you and Rick, unable to form a connection with anybody else... it makes you sad sometimes, that no one ever goes near his stall or gives him the time of day, knowing the sweetheart that he is under the grumpy outer shell.

"How about I take 'im out on the grounds—" Rick's voice pipes up behind you, almost making you jump out of your skin. He stands next to you, reaching up to stroke Old Beardy's forehead, "while you go check on Pearl 'nd little Shimmer?"

Your face instantly lights up, a hitched breath leaving your lips as you nod at Rick, who is already looking at you with a proud smile on his face and a stray piece of his brushed back brown hair falling over one of his eyes.

"Alright then. We'll walk - together."

He's in a good mood today. You were convinced that he'd approached you to scold you for holding up the patrollers.

You give Old Beardy's chin one last scratch before retracting your hand, your arm brushing Rick's firm one in the process, "sorry, Rick - I mean - about holding Maria and Jean up."

"'S okay," he chuckles, watching you as you turn your back on him, starting to walk towards the fenced exercise grounds for the horses, "just don't do it again!"

You huff a laugh, a faint blush spreading across your cheeks at hearing the amusement in his voice.

Rick jogs behind after expertly attaching Old Beardy's harness and lead, the horse trots alongside him eagerly and he makes sure that he doesn't get too close to you in order to not scare you... knowing how you didn't like being approached from behind, he'd learnt that the hard way with the amount of times your survival instincts took over, throwing punches at him.

Like you said, he'd put up with a lot of bullshit from you since Maria dumped you into his hands.

The sound of snow crunching under your snow boots can be heard as you and Rick step outside... you can't deny that it's one of your favorite sounds so you're in no haste to interrupt the silence between you and the man walking next to you.

You take quick, subtle glances at Rick, noticing the way that his light stubble catches at the beige collar of his brown jacket, his hips swaying coolly with each step he takes, his curls at the back of his neck bouncing at the same time.

You aren't blind to Rick's looks. You'd be an idiot not to notice them... you'd also be an idiot not to notice the way that people spoke about him, about the two of you.

Rick is considered to be the most eligible bachelor in Jackson, he's a hard worker, a leader with rugged charm, affectionate with animals, a good communicator, good with people and he's single... he's also just a few years older than you... thirty-eight, you think, so it's no wonder why people spoke about the possibility of something happening between you.

All the people you once loved had either died or didn't love you back, the pain being so intense that you'd not even considered it to possibly happen again, with Rick, not until now... but you're sure that he doesn't see you as anything other than his stable-hand anyway.

You take another glance at Rick, but are unable to admire anything else about him because he catches you red-handed, already staring at you with eyes the colour of ice under the sunlight.

His thin pink lips tug upward at one side, "so - er - you're goin' to the Tipsy tonight then?"

"Hm?" His question makes you look up at him again after quickly turning your attention to the snow when he saw you looking at him.

Rick's little side smirk doesn't falter, "I overheard - you and Maria I mean."

"Oh - yeah," you murmur, bringing your hand up to your neck and scratching, fighting the urge to hiss as your cold fingertips touch your skin. You blink, watching him as his sloped nose and chiselled cheekbones flush, you assume that it's because of the cold, but part of you wonders if it's because he feels embarrassed at his admission, "will you - be there - for the movie?"

"Yeah—" he shoves the reddening fingers of his spare hand into his jean's front pocket and looks ahead at the sheep's pasture which is snowed over, his ranch workers clearing it so that the sheep could continue grazing, "not so much for the movie though."

"Oh." Scratching your neck is not enough to soothe your nervous, instead you clasp your hands together, fiddling with your fingers... it doesn't quite do the trick but there's not much you can do about it when you feel so exposed to the cold air and his piercing gaze. "You meetin' Arthur and Nathan then?"

"No - actually I was er - wonderin' if you wanted to go with me?" He states as if it's not a question or out of the blue.

Like a date?

Sure, people talked, but you were convinced that he hadn't noticed.

Is that why he's asking? You wonder.

He can't be asking for any other reason, right?

Is it out of pity?

Had he forgotten all the times you punched him? Given him a black eye? Kicked him? Lashed out because you could've sworn you heard Joel's voice? Hid away in your house for weeks without telling him and come back to the stable as if nothing happened?

It's gotta be pity.

"As in—"

"As in we'll walk to the Tipsy Bison after work, find Maria and Tommy 'n sit down with 'em - then I'll get you a drink and we'll watch whatever fuckin' movie it is playin'," he states, looking you directly in the eye even when he's waiting on your response.

Maybe he's asking because of Tommy.

He knew how you avoided him like he was infectious, he'd seen it with his own eyes whenever Tommy entered the stable to take Justified on patrol with him, you'd hide in Old Beardy's stall, leaving him to deal with the youngest Miller brother... it's why Rick doesn't like Tommy very much, he thinks he must've done something very bad for you to react the way you do around him.

Although Rick had consoled you a countless amount of times as you sobbed over your past, he still only knows parts about it because he joined Maria's group after you did, but before Jackson was found... he knew about your baby, that was it, and assumed by the surname 'Miller' on his little gravestone that Tommy was the father.

Why else would you hate him so much?

Since starting work at his ranch he'd been protective over you as his worker, wanting you to be as good a stable-hand you could possibly be and that meant no assholes like Tommy Miller interfering with your duties to the horses.

Maybe he's asking as your boss?

Or he just wants to spend the night glaring at Tommy over a table.

Maybe he's just wanting to look out for you.

Even if it is just pity or for a reason like pissing Tommy off, there isn't a reason that outweighs your reason to say yes... you just don't want to see Joel's face in the back of your mind like a constant nagging thought anymore because goddamn you for having such a brilliant photographic memory... maybe if you spent a little more time with Rick, the face of the man you'd been hung up on for decades would be replaced, maybe the nightmares would stop and maybe you could look at Tommy without associating him with his brother.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage, "believe it or not I um - I was actually plannin' on not smelling like horse shit tonight—" you send an apologetic look Old Beardy's way, who is not at all paying any attention to yours and Rick's conversation and is more entranced by the repetitive 'baaa' noises coming from the odd-looking fluffy creatures in the next pasture, "so I might have to pass on walkin' straight there with you."

Rick looks down at his own outfit, parts of it ripped and most of it worn or stained with odd pieces of hay protruding out of the seams of his clothes, just like yours... not that it bothers either of you, you're used to it by now. "Right - yeah, you make a good point," he responds between chuckles.

You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his lean and muscular frame less subtly than you had before, just because he was distracted by the filthiness of his own clothes. When he looks at you expectantly again you hesitantly drag your eyes away and hum in agreement, almost choking on your own saliva - pull it together, you tell yourself as if you have any idea of what it's like to be asked out on a proper, adult date that you want to go on. "Sooo—" you start to say, entirely expecting him to interrupt you, which he does, quicker than you thought he would.

"Sooo we'll meet there instead, find Maria and Tommy, sit with 'em - I'll get you a drink and we'll—"

"Watch whatever fuckin' movie it is playin' - I got it," you mimic his words in a failed attempt at his smooth southern accent... like he knew so little about you, you didn't know much about him other than that he likes horses and he was born and bred in Cynthiana, Kentucky.

He playfully rolls his eyes before quizzically raising his eyebrows at you, that half-smirk making an appearance again, "you got it as in you're in?"

You thought it was obvious with how you teased him, but perhaps he'd also noticed the way that you used humor to deflect from your real feelings, so you spell it out to him verbally, ignoring the fact that you've lost all feeling in your tongue... luckily you don't need it to deliver your next two words: "I'm in."

Rick's side smirk transitions into a fully fledged grin that shows off his dimples, which are usually difficult to spot under his dark facial hair, "great."

You nod absentmindedly, suddenly feeling the need to get away before you cancel on him seconds after accepting. "I should - um - go see the girls."

"And I should probably get back to work too before Old Beardy here gives me a good kicking," he gives the distracted stallion a few pats that draw his attention back onto the two humans beside him.

"Not before I punch you first." A shameful attempt at last second flirting, you know, but it seems to do the trick and end the conversation with grins on both your faces.

A circling flutter had invaded your stomach after seeing that killer smile of his and it continued even as you walked away from him... you're just not sure whether the butterflies are because of him or because you're now aware that someone could possibly fathom the idea of wanting you, or both - it's probably both.

You'd not felt like this since him, since... Joel… you sigh and look down, bringing your hand to your stomach and gently caressing it to try and calm the butterflies doing loops around your insides.

Don't get too distracted now.

Pearl and Shimmer need you.

You set your eyes on the maternity barn beside the main stable and you don't look back, not even to ogle at the way Rick's arms flex as he effortlessly climbs into Old Beardy's saddle... you shake your head to clear that thought and speed-walk for the barn, for your girls.

Shimmer.

Pearl.

You couldn't possibly pick favorites, but you knew that when a patrol group had gone out and found the stray, pregnant perlino Tennessee Walker a year ago, she was your girl.

She loved you instantly but she hated Rick - not him specifically, only because he had a dick between his legs and you could understand that. She didn't trust men one bit, that much was obvious when the patrol group told you and Rick that she refused to be led by anyone other than Jean on the way back from their shift, and you could understand that too.

So Pearl was, and still is, your responsibility and yours alone... which terrified you at first because she had life growing inside her and you didn't trust yourself not to mess up somewhere, somehow. Doing what you had already been doing for the other horses was one thing, but having the mare depend on you for assisting with the birth of her filly was another thing entirely...

It was another reason not to sleep at night.

You wondered how you could do it if you'd failed to do it yourself once already.

Rick did everything that he could for you from afar, explaining the ins and outs of looking after a pregnant horse and equine delivery... even going to the extent of writing you a manual for it with diagrams and drawings that he'd rustled up one evening after having to listen to you panic over the entire situation for the hundredth time.

To your relief, Pearl was not that far along in her pregnancy when the patrol found her, only four months - Rick could tell by the way her stomach swelled only just, but not enough for her to be any further along than that.

You spent every minute of the day with the mare, staying even after your work hours had finished just to make sure that you were giving her the nurturing that she needed in order for her filly to grow healthy in her womb.

With each month that passed no complications came her way as you worked to the bone to provide her with everything she needed that you didn't have - a comfy bed, stability, double portions of fresh food, lots of water, warmth and a space where she felt safe, where even the thought of someone or something attacking her was not a possibility.

So when Pearl's water's broke naturally on an orangey-skied evening four months ago a moment of sheer panic had flushed through your body before you sucked in a bucket load of tears and dashed to her side, remembering everything that Rick had taught you because at ridiculous hours every night you reread that darn manual... the man watched over the maternity barn's half-door without Pearl kicking up a fuss, she was in too much pain to notice him, in case you needed any emergency assistance - you didn't.

You did it all yourself.

You'd delivered Shimmer all on your own.

Just you and Pearl.

You'd given her everything that you had in you, shown her and her little one the unconditional love that you'd buried deep within you for the baby you mourned for. In return she'd given you some healing, shown you that you could do it again, but without the despair that came after.

It's no wonder why you've formed such an emotional attachment to each other in so little time.

You sniffle softly, blaming the cold weather for it, but a tear falls from your eye, slowly trailing over your cheekbone and catching the line beside your mouth. You don't bother to wipe it away because you just know that Pearl will understand.

The half-door of the barn is open already, Rick must've very cautiously done that first thing in the morning without Pearl noticing... she had been sleeping a lot during her recovery from giving birth.

As you near the door a smile starts to form on your lips as you prepare for Shimmer's adorable 'good morning' that she greets you with every day without fail.

Her brown muzzle appears, resting on the grey wood as soon as she hears you coming.

"Is that you, Shimmer?!" You gasp, now standing directly on the other side of the wooden door.

You hear excitable shuffling at the sound of your voice before Shimmer's entire head comes into view, still preciously resting the weight of it on the door.

"Well good morning to you too!" You run your fingers along the white line that trails from her forehead all the way down to her small nostrils, the only aspect of her appearance that she'd gotten from her mom... she must really take after her dad looks-wise, wherever he is.

Shimmer's mane and tail are black, her eyes dark and her coat brown, and just like her name, it shimmers under the morning sun.

Shimmer neighs and snorts, enthusiastic as usual, lifting her head from the door and jumping onto her two hind legs as you continue to fuss over her, but you hear further inside the barn a neigh from Pearl, telling her baby girl to 'calm down'.

At the sound of Pearl's voice you hold onto the edge of the half door and lean your upper half over it to peek into the barn. Pearl is laying down on her stomach with her head perched up so that she can watch Shimmer closely, her blue eyes move to you when you come into her line of vision, she neighs again, welcoming you into her and her young's space.

You gesture for Shimmer to back up, to which she does, running around in circles, distracted while you open the half-door and slip into the barn, "look at you go little girl!" You exclaim as you lower yourself onto your knees so that your face is just about in line with Shimmer's, she trots towards you, her face warps slightly as she gets closer and closer, making you giggle. You gently wrap your arms around her neck, your fingers digging into her silky hair while she tucks her head over your shoulder and her neck is pressed to the side of your face.

Pearl watches on fondly from the edge of the barn's interior. The bond that she has let you develop with Shimmer is something that you are so grateful for, after all, you had helped her through her pregnancy and she knows that, so she trusts you with her entire being and is content with you being Shimmer's human mother figure.

Shimmer doesn't stay still for long, removing her head from your shoulders and going back to playing with her hay ball.

"There's my not so little girl," you greet Pearl with a toothy smile, slowly lifting yourself back up onto your feet and treading lightly towards the mare.

You sit yourself beside Pearl absentmindedly twirling her blonde mane around your fingers, and admire the way her beige coat glows where sunlight sneaks through the cracks between each wood panel... that's where Shimmer gets her glow from... You both sit and watch like two proud mothers as Shimmer knocks the ball around the barn with her hooves, occasionally taking some hay from the middle of it.

For what feels like ten minutes is actually hours, the time that you spend in the barn with Pearl and Shimmer.

Playing with Shimmer, sitting with Pearl in the hay, dressing them both in their bridles, taking them both out one after the other for exercise on the grounds, giving them both treats and new water.

It's just after midday when you decide that it's about time for Pearl and Shimmer to have lunch.

The hay bales are located under shelter beside the maternity barn, so you figure that it'll take you just a few minutes to deliver some fresh hay to the hungry-looking faces watching you leave the barn.

The wooden shelter is to your right and you can already see the stacked hay bales inside of it through the wide door frame on the far left side of the rectangular structure.

Rick is nowhere to be seen now, but distant voices, hammering and water trickling from hoses at the greenhouses and sheep enclosure can be heard. When you enter the shelter every sound fades into nothing and the sweet, earthly smell of hay fills your nostrils.

You wrap your fingers around the string of the closest hay bale to the entrance, but as soon as you attempt to lift it you notice the way that your breathing has started to speed up until you're panting heavily, sweating and whimpering - no - you shake your head quickly and try to focus on lifting the hay bale to your chest but your legs quiver, almost making you drop it.

It's his voice again, creeping its way into your head like an agonizing migraine, one that presses down harder on your brain with each word spoken until it's completely squished at the hands of Joel.

'No, don't you fuckin' look at her.'

'Look at me.'

'Don't you look nowhere else.'

'I will break every bone in your body.'

'Give us what you got easy, medicine, supplies, anythin' like that and I'll make killin' you a whole lot quicker.'

Your lips tremble and your hands shake as a second, third and fourth tear fall from your eyes, making your vision blurry and you're unable to clear the liquid away. Even after the hay bale falls out of your arms, they're frozen and held out in front of you as if you were still holding it... you can't move.

Not again, not here.

You'd not had an episode like this at work before.

Why is this happening?

He says your name just like he did in your nightmares: low, raspy and angry at you for running away from him all those years ago.

Unlike your nightmares, you notice how the anger in his voice fades instead of getting louder and angrier, and it allows for you to gain control, steady your breaths, blink away your tears and rub your eyes with the front of your hands... bringing you back to the real world and all you can hear are Jackson's day to day noises, kids screaming as they play outside in the snow, animal calls and people just living.

He says your name again and you stop breathing altogether because it is not in your head this time, it's coming from behind you.

Joel Miller's voice is as clear as day.

Like the characters in all those horror movies you used to watch in your bedroom that know they're about to be killed because the monster is behind them and they're unarmed, you turn to face him slowly, trying with every fibre of your being to not break down, fall at your knees and beg him to just put you out of your misery.

Your mouth falls open slightly at the sight of him in the real world, looking so... normal, dressed in thick layers for the winter weather that hug his softer-looking frame, and he’s not at all covered in blood. He looks so out of place to you after seeing him so often in your mind that you can't bring yourself to believe that he is really here, or scream for him to ‘leave you alone’... and you still cannot bring yourself to breathe, which is making your vision cloudy.

"It's you - 's really you," you hear, it's him… his voice in the flesh.

Joel Miller is here, in Jackson.

You blackout.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨 ⇝

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 (𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐨𝐫 ‘𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒

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