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SO MUCH TO LOSE Chapter 22: Looking Forward

story rating: 18+

words: 12.0k

warnings: angst, heartache, Joel is lovesick, reader is a badass.

a/n: Y'all really came through with the comments and I was so fucking touched I worked my ass off to bring you this chapter, (one of my fav to write). On a personal note, I hate e-begging but the transmission in my car needs to be replaced. It’s gonna cost several thousand dollars which I do not have. So if any of you are feeling benevolent and have some extra cash lying around I would be really grateful. Ko-fi is here.

Love y’all and lemme know what you think of this chapter! (what you love AND what you hate! I love reading your thoughts).

masterlist here

Chapter 22: Looking Forward

You close the front door behind you with your hips, arms wrapped around you as you enter the bracing cold of the morning. Your legs are in your bloodstained jeans and the long t-shirt you woke up in is thin. But you couldn't find your jacket anywhere and you were desperate to leave.

You wince as you stumble towards home, your mouth like cotton. Your face feels swollen from tears and from the beating. The snow has subsided and you're thankful that you don't run into anyone you know.

You woke up disoriented in Joel's warm arms only moments ago and your head still feels fuzzy as you march up your porch, shoving your door open.

You have snatches of memory after climbing that tree yesterday. You know that Joel found you, that he held you tightly, that he sobbed an apology and brought you back to Jackson.

After that it gets blurry. You think you remember Lily and judging by your bandaged hand and cheekbone she must have tended to you. But then why did you wake up in Joel's bed? Why didn't he take you home to yours?

Instead you were warm and a tangle of limbs. His hair was tousled from sleep, his mouth parted. He slept deeply, his eyes fluttering lightly when you pulled yourself slowly from against his body.

Now in your quiet home you grunt, peeling off your stiff jeans. You throw yourself in the shower, scrubbing yourself down before pulling on fresh clothes and crawling into bed, too tired to think about Joel or anyone else.

///

He doesn't believe that you're gone at first. He assumes that you've rolled over, out of his touch. He blindly gropes the sheets and when he doesn't come into contact with your warm skin his eyes crack open.

Joel staggers to a stand, pulling on his jeans and jacket when he realizes you're gone. He feels his heart hiccup behind his ribs, bumping into his dresser as he tugs on his socks.

Ellie is there reading at the table, eating an apple. She raises a brow at Joel when he stumbles into the kitchen, his hair askew. She arches a knowing brow in his direction.

"Busy night?"

Normally Joel would tell her off for being a smart mouth, but right now he's anxious that you're gone. He quickly checks every room and feels his throat tighten when he doesn't find you.

He snatches the paper bag Lily gave him last night before he pulls on his boots, his muscled legs scissoring as he rushes to your house.

You have to be there, right? Where else would you have gone? Maybe you went to grab some clothes to bring back to Joel's? The thought warms him.

He'll fuss over you as long as you need him to. He'll bring hot water bottles and make soup and rub your back until you're sleeping peacefully. He'll apologize for everything he did and you'll be able to start fresh.

He ignores the ugly voice that whispers the alternative. That you left because you wanted to be free of Joel.

It's mid-morning and he sees several folks from last night. Most are hungover, but offer him a wave that he's too distracted to return. All his focus is on is your closed door up ahead. He practically flies up the steps and in his rush almost catches the tip of his boot in a wayward slat.

He rights himself, muttering under his breaths before he pounds on your door. He doesn't mean to do it so harshly, but his anxiety is thrumming through his entire body, making it hard to control his movements.

When you don't answer he frowns, looking around the neighborhood as if you'll be there walking up the lane. He's just deciding whether he'll try Jennifer's house when the door creaks open and you poke your head out.

Joel feels a relieved smile break over his features, his glossy eyes taking you in. You stand there blinking at the bright light of the day. You're wearing new pyjamas and your hair is mussed from sleep. Just the sight of you has his body relaxing, his heart thrumming in adoration for your sweet face.

"There you are," Joel sighs as he reaches a hand for your cheek. The smile fades as you flinch away from his hand.

"What do you want, Joel?" The door to your home stands only half open. You're not inviting him in.

The cold stone sinks in his belly at the chill of your words.

"I was worried when I woke up and you were gone."

"Why?"

"Well, because..." Joel peers at you as if he can't understand why you're acting so cold. "Because last night you were hurt and… I was tryin' to take care of you."

"That’s not necessary anymore," you tell him stiffly. "Lily came by earlier to check on me."

Joel scans your face, taking in the firm set of your jaw and the narrowing of your eyes. You remind him of a wild animal cornered. Despite this he takes a step forward, his footfall heavy.

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Tired."

"How about the hand?" The paper bag crinkles at his side and he recalls the reason for coming to see you. "If it's bad you can take these."

He stretches the hand holding the bag to the small gap in the door.

"These're from Lily," Joel says with bag outstretched. "Pain pills and disinfectant for your scrapes. If you need anything else-"

You cut him off as you take the bag from him with a flick of your wrist.

"This is fine.”.

You stand there in silence before sighing at him. It takes him a moment to realize you're waiting for him to leave. That's it? After everything that's all you're going to say? He feels so out of sorts he just stares at you, blinking.

"Don’t you wanna talk?"

"Like I said before, I'm tired."

Joel flinches at the cutting way you speak and look at him. It makes him feel small and insignificant. He supposes he just needs to give you some time.

"Can we talk later?"

"I don't think so."

Last night you clung to Joel, you wanted him there. And now you're acting like he's a stranger, the expression on your face verging on disgust.

"I think we should," he presses. "There's lots to talk about and I wanna explain my side of things."

"I'm sure you do," you say tightly with a nod. "But I'm not interested in hearing anything you have to say."

Joel is stung by the sharp callousness of your reply. A large part of him had been deluded into thinking that he was forgiven now that you were back safe.

"Look, I know I fucked up, but baby, please lemme just -"

"No," you say sharply, shaking your head and raising your palm to him. "You don't get to call me that, Joel."

Joel just stands there like some heart bruised idiot, staring at you incredulously.

"What? You thought you could treat me like shit, fuck around with my friend and I'd welcome you into my bed because you took care of me?" The absurdity of such a thing makes you laugh sharply. "Are you insane, Joel?"

Joel feels the world tilting, his feet stumbling slightly as you spit verbal venom at him. He stares at you wide eyed as you cross your arms in front of you and shoot him a sneer.

"Guess you were surprised someone so useless managed to take down three killers on her own."

The word hangs in the air, sharp and ugly.

Useless.

"You're not useless," Joel starts, hating that he ever mentioned that word.

"I know I'm not," you shoot back at him haughtily. "I got Maria back. I killed those raiders. I climbed that tree."

With every I statement you slap an open palm to your sternum, emphasizing what you say.

"You didn't do shit. You were just the first one with a horse to reach me," you scoff, looking him up and down like he's trash. "But I didn't need you, Joel. Not then and certainly not now."

You tilt your shoulder against the doorframe. He steps forward, his body almost against the door. He needs to breathe you in, to see you up close. You don't open the door further, but you don't shut it either.

"But what if I need you?" Joel croaks, feeling as you pull back from him, like sand through his fingers.

He sees the challenge in your eyes, the softness gone from your face.

"I don't give a shit what you need."

It's a dagger through the heart as Joel sees the way your lips curl in disdain for him.

"Please just let me explain," Joel says, his face contorted in pain. "About everything that happened after that day we got attacked. And that night at the dance, what you saw with me and Jenny, that was a mistake-"

"You just tripped over a loose floorboard and started tongue-fucking my best friend, is that it?"

Joel's face goes pink and this time it isn't from the cold. "It's not like that. I don't have feelings for her. I never did."

"I know it's not. I know you were doing that to hurt me, which is why it's so fucked up," you say quietly.

It doesn't mean it didn't hurt. Doesn't mean that the sight of the man you adored kissing another woman didn't squeeze your breath from you. Joel's eyes look impossibly wounded.

"Please let me just explain."

Please, please, please. He won't stop saying please. He keeps saying he wants to explain, but every time he says it your shoulders inch towards your ears.

"Don't bother."

"But baby-" it sounds so plaintive and small. Despite his large size he feels diminutive. You hate hearing baby again. The way he thinks you still hold affection and space for his own despair. What about yours all those weeks? It makes your words punch out of you furiously.

"I came after you that night." Joel offers this weakly, as if it can explain away the terrible way he treated you.

"I never asked you to."

"You didn't have to," he enthuses. "You never have to. I’ll always be there for you whenever you need me."

The sudden chill from your gaze makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I don't need you Joel. Not anymore."

You slam the door with finality, feeling the thrill of having told him off. You listen for the scrape of his boots along the wood porch. You hear him make his way down the steps before wet snow crunches under his feet.

You take one of the pills from the bag and swallow it dry. You're exhausted and sore and you just want to sleep the day away. And you should be glad, right? You just comically told of Joel.

Despite this you're groping in front of you, leading yourself to your bedroom because you're blinded by your tears.

You collapse under the blankets, sobbing so hard it aches.

Hating Joel.

Loving Joel.

///

Hours later there's a knock at your door and despite everything you drag yourself over to it, surprised to see Tommy standing there with a cloth bag that smells delicious.

"Hey, brought you some dinner. Maria wants to know if you wanna come over for tea tomorrow morning," Tommy broaches, looking anxiously at your disheveled appearance. "Or we can come here. Whatever's easier."

You take the bag from him feeling your stomach gurgle.

"No thanks. I don't really feel seeing anyone for a bit."

"I understand."

He shifts anxiously from foot to foot. You wonder if he's going to ask about Joel and you brace yourself. But instead he just swallows and you think you can see tears spring along his waterline.

"I don't know what I would've done if she was gone." He clears his throat. "And uh, I didn't love being knocked unconscious," he exchanges a brief smile with you, "but I know why you did it."

You nod, very aware that Tommy is now fighting back tears. He blinks them back in an action that reminds you of the elder Miller.

"You saved my wife. You saved my son's mother. You saved me." His mouth twitches, chin trembling as his voice goes shaky. "If you ever need anything, any damn thing, you just say the word."

He speaks with such sincerity you wish that you had the energy to hug him, to let him know that you regret nothing, but you're so tired.

"You're a goddamn hero, you know."

He wipes at his eyes with his thumb and middle finger as you groan, shaking your head at his words.

"Oh fuck, please don't call me that," you say with a tired laugh he joins in on. "I don't feel like a hero. I feel like roadkill."

"Joel isn't taking good care of you, huh?" Tommy grins widely. "Do I have to give that fucker a talking to? Teach him how to make soup for his patient?"

The amusement is wiped from your face immediately and Tommy must notice because his toothy smile fades.

"Things, uh ... Not so good there?"

Suddenly the food smell is making you nauseated and your head pounds. You don't want to be upright anymore.

"I'm pretty tired, Tommy. I'm gonna head back to bed."

"Oh yeah, of course," Tommy nods. "You get to bed and uh, if you need anything we're around."

You nod, giving him a gentle goodbye and closing the door. You force yourself to eat a few bites of the pasta and chicken he brought before you climb back into bed.

The tears are there, as they always are.

///

You hear knocking on your door the next several days and you ignore it every time. You stay curled in your bed, sleeping off the trauma and the hurt. You don't want to see anyone.

You come to recognize Tommy's fist against the wood- a steady beating sound accompanied by Maria's voice giving a gentle "Hey, we're just checking in. Left you something to eat", the rustle of a bag placed at your door and their dual footsteps down the porch steps.

Jennifer's tapping is lighter, her voice soft as she calls your name and leaves a new pair of mittens at your door after you don't answer.

It continues on like this with townsfolk coming by and leaving you little trinkets to collect when the sky grows dark and you're alone.

Arthur and Penny come by leaving a painting of Chestnut for you. This gift makes you cry as you sweep it into your arms and place it next to your family photo above the hearth.

Luke leaves a record with a note that says he hopes you enjoy, not knowing that you don't have a record player. Bless him.

Cherry drops by and drops off several more wooden frames, including one perfect for the painting of Chestnut. You wonder if it was a plan between the two of them.

Kyle is the one who leaves a fresh bag of deer jerky he made himself and a scribbled letter saying how sorry he is that you were in danger because of him. You almost break your isolation to tell him it's not his fault, but you can't find the energy to do it.

You exist in a darkness that no one can pull you from. Not even Ellie's quick raps and your name called over and over.

You eat sparingly, you sleep a lot. You thought memories of what you did and of who you killed, would haunt you. But strangely all you can feel is vindication. Knowing that Charlotte would be proud of you for standing up.

Despite this you sleep with a large hunting knife beside your bed.

Your sleep is dark and endless. No nightmares, but no dreams. It leaves you waking feeling even more exhausted than when you went to sleep. You barely shower, you just move from couch to bed and back again, carrying your large blanket, too exhausted to keep crying.

It's not just the raiders that have you feeling so upset. It's everything that happened before that. It's the horrible things you said to Jennifer, it's the pity you saw in Ellie's face.

And then the thoughts of Joel come. The sweet Joel who held you and whispered that he wanted to give you everything. You ache for that Joel, for those moments. And even now you know why he did what he did. He was scared; he thought he was doing the right thing. But it's not enough a reason for you.

Even if Joel did come to get you, even if he did tend to you, even if he does care for you, all you can think is that he wanted to hurt you. That he would do that instead of communicating to you. That he brought Jennifer into all of this.

You'll be thankful to him for the survival wisdom he imparted, you'll be thankful for the tender times that helped you grow strong. You'll be thankful to him for coming to get you in a snowstorm.

But that's it. That's where the chapter of Joel Miller ends.

///

You wake up on week two of this to the sound of clattering in your kitchen. You jerk up in bed, heart hammering. In an anxious reflex you lurch for the knife beside your bed and you stand, pulling on your robe.

The noise continues as the vestiges of sleep drain from you. Who would be breaking into your house? Is it an animal? Jackson City isn't known for its thieves.

You round the corner with the knife at your side, your heart fluttering. What you see stops you in your tracks.

Ellie is hallway through your kitchen window with a bouquet of paper flowers held between her teeth by the stems. Her one foot is in your sink, causing the cutlery to rattle. When she sees you her eyes go wide with guilt at being caught.

"Ellie, what the fuck?"

She climbs in the rest of the way, avoiding the sink the best she can as she jumps down from the counter, closing the window after herself. She pulls the flowers from her mouth and wipes the damp stems on her jeans.

"Here, these are for you."

You slide the knife covertly into your robe pocket and step forward to take the flowers.

"You've improved." You pull your robe tighter around your body, sure that you look and smell terrible. "Want some tea?"

Ellie looks relieved that you're not kicking her out of your home. She nods animatedly, the smile breaking over her features.

"Sure."

Ellie stares at your hand and then the bandage under your eye as you make your way to the kitchen table. You place the flowers in the center of the table and move to boil the water, glancing over to see her worried expression.

"It looks worse than it feels," you assure her. Ellie just nods, taking a seat and silently watching until you return with two steaming mugs, one of which you slide in front of her at the table.

"So the front door was too conventional for you?" you ask as you drop into your chair.

"I don't know what that means," she says frowning. "All I know is you weren't answering your door. I got worried."

Love flows through you for the earnestness in her voice and face.

"I'm okay, I promise. The Doctor says my hand is almost all healed up."

"That's good."

Ellie taps her mug, absently chewing on her thumb nail as she absorbs everything she sees. The injuries to your body, the pile of plates in the sink, the fine layer of dust.

Then she looks back at you sipping your tea and you just know what she's not asking.

"I'm sorry I never told you about Joel and I. We shouldn't have kept it a secret. I was never really sure about where Joel and I stood so it never felt right to share."

Ellie is quiet, contemplating your words. She has her hair in a knotted mess of a ponytail, the whisps around her temples frizzed.

You remember the tenderness you've always held for the girl. The times spent, brushing her hair, baking and laughing. She must be recalling such events too because she looks at you with such a wide and trustful gaze.

"How come you didn't stay?"

"I wanted to come home."

Ellie taps the side of the mug again, feeling the heat underneath the pads of her fingers.

"Joel says he fucked up and you don't want to see him anymore. That he has to give you your space."

"He told you that?"

"After I wouldn't stop bugging him about it for a couple days." Ellie forces a half smile but you can tell that she's troubled. "You must not wanna see me anymore now that you hate Joel."

Your breath catches.

"Of course I want to see you, Ellie."

"But you won't see Joel?"

You pause, seeing the tender look in her eyes. You can't lie to her.

"No."

"Never?"

You bite back the 'never' on the tip of your tongue. You can't be harsh with Ellie, even if the mention of Joel makes you grimace.

"I don't know."

"What did he do that was so bad?"

He's her father figure, he's someone she looks up to. You can't disparage him openly.

"That's between us, Ellie."

She doesn't like this response, shifting in her chair. She doesn't think of herself as a kid, believes she deserves to know everything that is going on.

"How are things with you and Dina?" You ask hoping to shift the topic. And your susiegers suddenly breaks out into a large smile.

"She's my girlfriend. Officially."

You reach across the table to squeeze the hand wrapped around her mug

"Seriously? That's amazing, Ellie!" You both beam at one another. "Tell me everything."

For the next hour Ellie speaks non-stop, her hands gesticulating wildly as she tells you about her time with Dina. It feels fun and familiar and above all, it feels normal.

"And Dina says she planning a really nice date for us and-" Ellie breaks off, seeing the clock over your stove. "Oh shit, I gotta go, I'm late for school!"

The girl who hated school now can't wait to go if it means seeing her girlfriend. She stands, throwing her bag over her shoulder. You walk her to the front door, commenting that you want to hear all about how the date goes.

"Will you come over to our place for dinner? I thought the four of us could eat dinner and play cards or something."

You wish that you could say yes, you wish that you could forget everything that has happened.

"That's not a good idea right now, Ellie. But you can come here anytime."

Ellie pulls on her jacket, looking upset. This obviously wasn't the response she was hoping for. She's about to leave, her hand on the doorknob when she pauses. She turns to look at you and her young face has grown solemn.

"Did you love him?"

The question she poses so innocently has your breathing caught between your upper and lower ribs.

Yes. I loved him with everything I had.

Your practiced answer of no is tentative; your feelings for Joel are very complicated despite everything. In the end you don't say anything. You just shrug your shoulders and force a sad smile in her direction.

She sighs, her head shaking disappointedly in your direction.

"I told you I don't like liars."

Your heart sinks. "I know."

This is where Ellie will permanently take her leave. She'll look at you with disgust and you'll never see her again. The thought hurts your chest and you brace yourself.

"Don't do it again."

Your eyes fly to her face, taking note of the upset look in hers. Her expression is anxious and she's picking at the hangnail on her thumb.

"I promise, Ellie. Never again."

You're taken aback when she takes a step forward and wraps her arms around your middle. You hold back the tears, your top teeth biting into the flesh of your lower lip as you contain your relieved sobs and hug her back.

You were so worried you'd never talk to Ellie again. That this sweet connection would go away the moment Joel did. You're thankful at being wrong, so relieved that you haven't lost her.

"You wanna come over for a baking lesson next week?" You ask her, covertly wiping the damp from your eyes with the arm of your sweater. "There's still lots of pop tart flavors you haven't tried yet."

"Yeah I'd love that." Ellie grins, also wiping the wet from her eyes with the back of her arm. "Your stuff is so good. No one makes stuff like you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I thought you'd be all bossy teaching me how to make those pop tarts but you were so gentle and patient. I think it must be like how drawing is for me," she reasons. She touches the spot below her sternum. "It's like everything in here goes calm and warm when I do it."

You know what she's describing; that sensation of peace and serenity.

"It's like you put all this love into your stuff... Or some shit," Ellie corrects when she realizes she's getting too saccharine. "Anyway, I better go, c'ya."

She gives a cute little wave and then sails down the porch steps on her way to school.

You watch her leave, feeling strangely touched by her break-in. It's like it helps you wake up a bit. When you move to the window and pull open the curtains the day is bright and the snow glistens beautifully. And for the first time in weeks you feel like you can breathe.

Ellie's visit stirs something in you, propelling you into action and you begin to tidy your home.You throw away all your bloodied clothes, wincing at the sight. You strip your bed and toss everything into the wash. You continue on scrubbing dishes and sweeping the floors.

You do this until your home resembles its previous cleanliness and then you throw yourself into the shower. You scrub and shampoo away the remnants of your depressive isolation. The laundry is dried by the time you're done and you remake the bed.

Dressed in new clothes you make yourself a sandwich with the jam in your cupboard and the bread Tommy and Maria left earlier in the week. You eat it thoughtfully at the table, making notes to yourself on a piece of loose paper.

Then you're up, shoving them into your pocket and pulling on your jacket and boots. You step out into the chill of the afternoon and can't help but let a smile out. The sunshine has come to radiantly bask the town through the trees, making everything glitter.

You feel at peace, you feel less like a bruise with a finger being pressed into it. You feel like perhaps you’ve changed. You don’t feel the same and instead of terrifying you, the thought brings you a sense of comfort.

Jennifer's house eventually comes into view and you pause. Is this a terrible idea? Will she even want to see you? You've ignored all her knocks on your door and you said such awful, ugly things to her the last time you spoke to her.

You step back, resting against one of the large trees. Maybe you were hoping for too much too soon. You don't even know if Jennifer would want to be friends again.

Then like something out of a fairy tale the door to her home opens and Jennifer steps out, her blonde hair like spun gold in the sunlight. She wears one of her own creations, a knitted pink sweater with little clouds over pale blue jeans.

And she's not alone.

Luke steps out after her onto the porch, his smile wide. You watch partially shielded by the tree, feeling your heart throb at the sight of Luke taking her into his arms and kissing her sweetly. She's got a teasing smile on her face, saying something to him before they both laugh, the duel reverberations sounding like a joyful symphony.

She waves him off and you think you hear the words "... you after work" before he waves back, his heavy feet carrying him off the steps and towards town.

She watches after him, a gooey expression on her face. She turns to go back inside when she catches sight of you. She raises a hand to her forehead, shielding the sun as she stares at you, blinking against the light.

“Uh, hi,” you say, awkwardly moving from behind the tree to offer an uncoordinated wave. She shoots a confused little smirk your way.

"What are you doing hiding behind the tree?"

Like a kicked puppy you make your way to her door, your eyes on the wood planks of her porch. She says nothing as you come to a stand in front of her, head lowered.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

She steps back, pushing the door open and turning to the side. You brush past her, eyes still on the floorboards. Once inside you follow her to the table by the window. It sits by the yellow wall bathing the entire space in a mellow beauty that soothes your frazzled nerves. You take a seat, hands clasped on your thighs like a chastised schoolchild.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” she soothes. You can only nod, the shame of your last words to her still lingering in your mind.

Jennifer's voice is soft and patient. "I'll get us a tea."

She steps into the kitchen and you listen to the sound of clinking porcelain, the running of the tap, the eventual whistle of the kettle and you smile at the normalcy of it all. You feel the need to fill up the quiet tension you feel.

"So, looks like Luke talked to you," you say with a small grin to her empty seat. "And it looks like it’s going well?"

Jennifer returns from the kitchen with two mugs of peppermint tea. You can't help but smile when you view the shy way she tucks her chin against her shoulder.

"Yeah. It’s actually going really well." She pushes your drink to you across the table, taking a seat and you can feel her fixing you with a strong gaze. "Luke said that you told him to go after me at the dance."

"I did."

"He said that you told him you were certain that I liked him. That I'd liked him for a while."

Your fingers circle the handle of the mug, noticing it's a pale peach color whereas Jennifer's is a pale pink.

"It clicked for me that night," you say blowing the steam from your mug. "All I could think of was how weird you got over the months and.... Well, you know."

Now you finally raise your gaze to her face, surprised to see her eyes are butter soft.

"He came over that night after I left your place. We talked forever and confessed how we felt and..." She trails off. "Then he spent the night."

"Oh did he?" You give her a look that sets her off giggling embarrassed, waving you off.

"He just slept over. Nothing scandalous... that was the next night."

You both giggle yourselves silly at that, taking sips of your tea and basking in the cozy warmth of Jennifer's home. You shake your head slowly, laughing softly to yourself.

"Looking back I can’t believe how obvious it was that you guys liked each other."

"That's actually how I felt about you and Joel." Jennifer says with a small tug of her lips to one side. She misses the way you've tensed up, the humor gone from your face.

"I mean, I was so fucking oblivious. The way you got when he was around, the way he stared at you." Jennifer shakes her head. "I thought it was because you were patrol partners and he got on your nerves. But that night when I saw you two it just seemed so fucking obvious."

You're tracing the table gently with your fingers, your mouth suddenly pinched. You don't want to talk about Joel and you. But you want honesty, you’re tired of keeping things from Jennifer.

"Sometimes I worried that the only reason you were my friend was to find intel on Joel."

She leans back in her chair, light eyes thoughtful. She takes a moment to think about what you've said before a grimace overtakes her face.

"Maybe it was kind of like that at first," Jennifer admits, blowing the steam from her cup. "But not for a long while. I thought we were close."

"We were-are."

"So then why keep Joel a secret?"

"I was ashamed of myself. At first I told myself it wasn't a big deal because you weren't dating him and it was just sex."

"But eventually it wasn't just that."

"No,” you sigh heavily. “Not after a while."

"When did it change?"

You look up from your teacup feeling wounded. Jennifer has that familiar look of interest on her beautiful face.

"Honestly I don't know exactly." You search your mind. "You know how when we'd go shooting you'd tell me to think of something calm?"

"Yeah."

"I guess, one day he was my something calm."

Jennifer gasps, putting a hand to her chest in a swoon. Her reaction draws out a surprised laugh and Jennifer immediately joins in when she realizes how dramatic her response was. And suddenly it's like it always was, giggling over boys, smiling and the world feeling light. But before the good moment lasts she abruptly sobers.

"Did you really mean that the stuff you said about me not asking you about yourself? That I didn’t care enough about you to ask?" Her eyes scan yours. "If I'm honest that hurt worse than anything else you told me that night."

Considering the barbs you threw at one another this impacts you hard enough to wince.

"Honestly? Sometimes it felt like it was the Jennifer show and I was just your audience."

Jennifer's cheeks pink in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I can see how it would be like that.” She looks at you thoughtfully. “I guess because it felt like you were so hesitant to share about yourself so I just filled up the empty space.”

You accept that, nodding. She’s completely right. She left the door open many times, you just always held back. She was always there doing things in her own way to make you feel cherished, setting you up with Luke, making your dress, teaching you to shoot. You had so many opportunities to share and you just never did.

Jennifer sucks at her teeth lightly and leans towards you.

"I’m sorry I made it all about me," Jennifer says with a sniff. "You were there devastated and all I could do was talk about how I felt you hurt me, how I felt betrayed. I never even asked if you were okay."

"I was fine."

"No you weren't," Jennifer says firmly. "I saw the pain in your eyes."

You drop said eyes to the floor, shrugging listlessly.

"But I was embarrassed," she admits with a shy duck of her head. "I mean, being rejected is hard enough. Realizing you're a pawn is so much worse."

"I'm sorry, I know how much you liked Joel," you tell her with sincerity. She sighs heavily.

"You were right about how I felt about Joel. I barely knew anything about him. He was just a fun chase. I never actually liked him." She tilts back in her chair. "It's just when I thought you and Luke were really falling for each other I felt... Weird. I mean, now I know why but at the time I just wanted to be distracted. I loved the thrill of the chase with Joel. When we were kissing all I could think was that now I had him and I still wasn't happy."

You wince, still not enjoying the memory. She seems to sense this because she stops talking, going back to her tea.

"You know I didn’t mean what I said that night, right?" She asks in a quiet voice. “I knew Joel wouldn’t have picked me. I was just saying shit because I was hurt. I’m so sorry.”

Jennifer is misty-eyed, her hands clasping yours.

“Jennifer, I’m so sorry for what I said to you that night,” you say ardently. “I was just so embarrassed and hurt and confused and I didn’t mean a fucking word of it. I was just lashing out.”

You swallow, blinking back tears. It’s strange to think there was a time when you rarely cried. When all that hurt just stayed festering within you.

"I tried to see you a few times when you got back," Jennifer says searching your eyes. "You never answered the door. I thought maybe you were still upset with me."

"Never," you insist. "I didn't answer the door to anyone after that first afternoon. After that I just couldn't make myself leave the bed."

Jennifer takes a long sip from her mug, her knuckles a pale white as she grips the handle.

“I was so worried about you,” Jennifer says eventually and her voice is croaky. “I was with the team coming to get you. You wouldn’t believe how relieved I was when I saw Joel bringing you in.”

This stops you, causing you to give her face a scan.

"You were coming after me that night?" you say quietly, blinking wet eyes. "Why would you do that? I was so horrible to you."

"You're my best friend."

"Still?"

Jennifer gives you an indulgent smile replete with warmth along with a head tilt.

"Always. I just can't understand why you couldn't just tell me about Joel the start."

"I wanted to," you insist honestly. "But I wasn't even sure of what Joel and I were... And then by the time I figured it was something more it was too late. I'd left it too long. Plus you had Oliver..."

And now you feel your stomach wobble, the world growing a little fuzzy.

"Jennifer, I set you up with Oliver because I wanted your attention off Joel. He'd never asked about you, I just thought you two would be cute together." You bury your face in your hands, shamed. "You were right about some of what you said that night. I was sneaky and underhanded."

You half expect her to throw you out of her house at this confession, so you're taken aback when she laughs.

"It's really not that serious."

Your hands slowly lower, her beaming face jailed behind your fingers.

"But you were devastated when he went back to his girlfriend. I remember when I came to your house-"

"That same morning Luke told me that things were progressing with you," she confesses, exhaling. "I was more upset about that than anything."

"Why the fuck didn't you just say something?"

"The same reason you didn't say shit about Joel."

You drop your eyes to the table at the mention of his name and now she seems to sense your unease because her brows draw together.

“What? What’s going on?”

She squeezes your hand and you absently notice her warm palms are calloused, the only rough part of her. You raise your eyes to meet hers and she’s a watercolor blur you need to blink through.

“I can’t be with Joel.”

“Why not?”

“How could I ever be with Joel?” you ask her, voice trembling. “I could never trust him.”

It’s not just the girlfriend comment and the kissing Jennifer that still has you upset; it’s the entire relationship if you can even call it that. He was always taciturn, always making you second guess, blowing hot and cold. That isn’t what you want. He isn’t what you want.

"He didn't mean what he did. I know he didn't."

"Jennifer-"

"You didn't see him when he brought you back," she insists, swallowing. "I saw him. I talked to him."

"You did?"

Jennifer nods, recalling it.

“He apologized to me for everything. He told me why he did it, to keep you at arm’s length because he thought he was doing the right thing. It’s fucked up logic, but his heart was in the right place. And I forgave him.”

You’re quiet, your fingers still lacing together with hers on the table.

"He was holding onto you for dear life. Kissing your forehead, looking at you like I've never seen him look at anyone, in front of everyone,” Jennifer enthuses. “I've never seen Joel Miller be gentle. He loves you."

Joel Miller may love you, but he’s never said the words out loud. He’s given you snatches of affection dispersed between moody instability. He’s guarded his heart and effectively shut you out dozens of times. You understand why, his Sarah, your Charlotte. You empathize with that, but you can’t nurture such an affection.

"That's not what love is," you finally tell her firmly. And now it's time for your voice to crack. "This right here, Jenny? You and me? This is love. Honesty, showing up when it matters. This is real love."

Jennifer lets out a small sound in the back of her throat before she's coming around the table, throwing her arms around you, pulling you into a crushing embrace. You hug her back, the tears flowing but so different from the ones that spilled in the previous weeks. These are tears of long held hurt, of truth acknowledged.

"I love you so much," Jennifer says and then with a small sniffle and a wet giggle she adds: "but I'm sorry to say you're not my type."

The two of you collapse into sniffling laughter, the relief of everything being out in the open making you both silly.

"So, any other secrets?"

"None," you say, wiping the last of your tears, but then something comes back to you from your fight. Something that you've been unable to shake.

You never share about yourself.

You take stock of this, looking at the girl across the table from you. She’s so open and honest and she has been from the start. And you think of how she has been a friend, a sister, a confidante.

"Jenny, I want to tell you about my sister. Her name was Charlotte but I called her Charlie..."

///

In the coming days you find yourself having coffee with Jennifer (after hours of talking and crying as you shared about your life you two parted with the promise of grabbing breakfast on Thursday morning), a lunch with Ellie and coming back into yourself. On an early morning you enter into the kitchen and pause. It takes only moments before you’re pulling on your apron.

You mumble to yourself about what you’ll make as you crouch down, opening cupboards and and bringing out the supplies that have been neglected. Chocolate chip cookies and cinnamon fried dough knots. Simple and delightful. You’re thankful you have the ingredients for both.

Humming to yourself in your bright kitchen you can’t help but feel a sense of calm overtake you. It feels good to be in here, nice and peaceful with the scent of cinnamon and butter and fond memories of a life before the outbreak.

You package the cinnamon knots up in wax paper when they’re cooled, along with your notes and then you’re on your way to Tommy and Maria’s with a determined look on your face.

The idea of the bakery isn't a new one. Tommy had mentioned it weeks ago and now as you look around your home you take stock of what you want moving forward. You never really enjoyed patrols, kitchen duty wasn't your thing and while the greenhouse is perfectly lovely, it doesn't suit you. A bakery does. But not in town.

You arrive at Tommy's bright and early the next morning bearing fried dough dropped in cinnamon sugar.

Tommy greets you enthusiastically pulling you into an embrace before ushering you inside.

“I brought you these,” you say handing the bag of cinnamon knots to Tommy shyly. He peeks inside, inhaling deeply before shooting you a look of consternation.

“We should be the ones bringing you somethin’.”

“Consider it a bribe,” you joke. “I wanted to talk with you and Maria about a business proposition.”

Tommy grins, urging you to come into the living room room where Maria sits before the fire, rocking Douglas in her arms. When she turns and sees you her face registers shock as well as gratitude.

“Oh my g- you’re here,” she says pulling herself to a stand. She hands Douglas to Tommy before throwing her arms around you. You hold her tightly, rocking her as she sniffles against your temple.

“I’m gonna change Douglas,” Tommy says, sensing you need your privacy. When the door closes Maria pulls you onto the couch.

"I never thought anyone would come after me," she explains quietly, her large eyes searching your face. "I never would have done it if I thought anyone would."

“I know, Maria.”

"I thought about leaving Tommy a note so he wouldn't think I had left him for something he'd done," she explains when the silence stretches on too long. For the first time when she looks at you there's a clearness in her eyes, no longer foggy and distant

"Did you plan on coming back?"

"I don't know," Maria says with honesty. "All I could think was these fuckers were coming for Douglas' home and I needed to keep him safe."

She stands, wiping her face and going to stare out the window. You join her, giving her space as she continues.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I didn't for sure," you admit. "But when I saw your reaction to the raiders I had a feeling."

She nods, her eyes on the lightly falling snow. After a moment’s pause she looks over at you.

"When you killed that first raider it’s like you were a different person."

You remain quiet, still uncomfortable with what happened. You don't ever want to think about that horrible night ever again. When you think about that night you feel like an empty glass, a fragile shell holding nothing inside.

"I'll never be able to repay you for what you did," she tells you earnestly. You smile at her.

"I'll never ask you to."

Tommy re-appears with a now squirming Douglas. You ask them both to take a seat and your cinnamon knots fried are munched on as you launch into your idea, bringing out your smudged notes and trying to explain everything as simply as possible.

"I'd like to open the bakery, we spoke about," you tell them. "But I'd like to run it out of the old farmhouse a bit out of town. The one on Sheriff Street. I’d live in it and I’d run the shop out of it. I’ve written up some ideas on how that can work and I’ll leave ‘em with you. "

Tommy and Maria exchange a look and you know why. The big lots are reserved for those with big families. With Jackson City expanding those homes are being pre-emptively saved for big groups. You speak hurriedly, trying to convince them.

“I know it’s a big space and you usually save those for groups but-“

“When do you want to move in?”

You pause as Maria asks you this, your brows knitted.

“Uh… As soon as I get it fixed up, I guess.”

“Okay.” Maria looks back at Tommy, her mind going a million miles a minute. She seems like her old self, confident and organized. “We have to make sure that this place is at code before she moves in.”

“Of course,” Tommy nods, rocking their son. “We can get some of the guys to do lumber, the carpenters to do finishings.”

“I’ll get someone to check plumbing too.”

“Oh, and they can check for mold while they’re at it.”

The two of them go back and forth like this, both excited with the idea. You can’t help but give a disbelieving laugh.

“You’re sure? It’s not too big for one person?”

“You saved my wife’s life,” Tommy tells you plainly. “I’d give you any fucking house in town if you asked.”

The three of you chuckle at this, chatting back and forth about the potential summer opening. You can feel the smile stretching over your features, the joy starting to seep back into your soul. Douglas follows the sound of your voice and begins reaching towards you.

"I say this calls for champagne to celebrate," Tommy says rising from the couch and placing Douglas into your arms. "But since we don't have any, what d'ya say to a glass of cider?"

"I say cheers!"

Tommy disappears into the kitchen and you think there's a sound at the door but you're distracted by Douglas's gurgling laugh that makes you laugh right back, tickling him under his chubby chin. Maria watches this, face beaming.

This right here is why you risked everything. This little life is why you went into a snowstorm to save his mother.

“Any chance you’d want to be his godmother?”

You look up from Douglas to give her a surprised look. “Really?”

“Really.” She smiles gently. “Tommy and I talked about it. There’s no one else we could imagine being in his life in that capacity. You’re the reason he has both his parents.”

You told yourself you were going to cry less, but the tears are there, burning your eyes. You swallow, nodding shallowly.

“I’d be honored.”

You hear the scuff of boots over wood and Maria glances up, surprised when there are two low voices at the door. Your skin prickles at the familiarity of one in particular.

"... To see her."

"You shouldn't be here you know. She's here t..."

Tommy sounds agitated and there is a small mercy found in the realization that this wasn't a secret plan from the start.

You attempt to quell the building anxiety by drawing your attention to the baby in your lap. He reaches a hand for your hair and you extract it with a crestfallen look on your face. You don't want to be here anymore.

The two men step into the room but you don't turn your head to look. You know who it is.

"Joel dropped by," Tommy says with a cringing tone. You give a thin smile into the hearth before pressing Douglas into Maria's waiting arms.

"Thanks for the visit."

"Of course." Maria stands, rocking Douglas in her arms as she shoots Tommy an aggressive frown.

You turn around to see Joel at the entrance of the living room, his broad frame eating up the edges of the divider, his strong body held tense.

Your gaze drifts over him to see his hair askew and note passively that he has dark circles under his eyes. Like you he clearly hasn't been sleeping well. His tongue darts out to lick his upper lip nervously.

"Hi."

His voice is a low rasp and the sound makes your body clench. But you ignore him entirely, giving Tommy a shadow of a smile.

"I'll see you two later."

Tommy nods briefly, still grimacing at the awkwardness of the situation, has his hands in his jean pockets. He gives you a flick of a smile, nodding as you make your way to the front door.

Joel's dark eyes follow you walking across the room, desperation etched into every line on his face. When he sees you passing right by him his frame instinctively moves towards yours. His voice is a low croon, soft and needy.

"Can we talk?"

You want to laugh in his face. Instead you glide past Joel without sparing him a glance, faltering only a fraction when his fingers brush the crook of your elbow. They immediately retract when he sees the scowl cross your face.

"Please."

You shake him off before moving into the kitchen to pull on your coat and shoes, fingers trembling as you push open the front door. You can hear Joel's boots scuffing behind you, following you closely.

"Just lemme explain."

But you're already marching quickly towards home. You don't want to hear what pathetic reason Joel could have for treating you so badly or how he could use your best friend like that.

His jogging quickly outpaces yours and he throws himself in front of you, frenzied. Like a startled horse you rear back, wide-eyed.

"I wanted to keep you safe," he pleads with both his eyes and his voice. He reaches for your hands, needing to you to understand the depth of his sincerity. "I just wanted to-"

You rip your hands from his, disgust flashing across your features. Your lips are curled viciously.

"Joel, get the fuck out of my way," you snarl before shoving him harshly in the chest. He allows it, moving back for you to walk by him.

His eyes follow the strength of your profile, noting the sheen to your eyes before your face is turned from him, only your back clear to him as you hurry home.

"Fuck, listen to me, please," Joel begs, his voice cracked as he calls out to your retreating figure.

You don't want to know someone like that. You don't want him infecting your life. You turn on August Ave, ignoring that he's started following you again, sure to give you plenty of distance.

"You asked me when the nightmares about Sarah ended," Joel calls out to you when it's clear you won't be stopping. "You remember askin’ me that?"

You continue striding quickly away, not wanting to hear anymore. You don't care why his nightmares ended. You don't care why he's still sniffing around you after treating you so horribly.

"Leave me alone, Joel," you shoot over your shoulder. You think this will stop him, but your brief acknowledgment of him has his footsteps hurrying. There are people around on the street heading into town, but neither of you slow. Joel doesn’t even lower his voice.

"It was that first night I spent with you," Joel calls, hoping you'll hear him. "That night of the snowstorm. It was the first time I'd slept so well since it all happened. Because of you."

He continues to call your name, his strides beginning to overtake yours, his nearness causing an urgency in you.

"It felt so good with you, laying there with you in my arms. It felt so safe," he says and you don't miss the hitch in his voice. It joins the one lodged in your chest as you continue to stride away from him.

And then all of a sudden it's his next words caught on the wind and carried to you that makes you finally stop.

"You make it go quiet for me."

Your feet slow as his words are absorbed. You feel sluggish in body but so awake in your mind. The words hit hard, extinguishing the ire left in your body like water over red hot coals.

Taking advantage of this momentary pause Joel jogs the rest of the way to you, his breathing heavy and cheeks pink from the cold when your eyes slide to his.

"What did you just say?"

"You make it go quiet for me," Joel repeats, his eyes luminous as he gazes down at you. "Since the start of it all."

You don't know what start he means but it doesn't really matter. The meaning stabs you deeply, causing you to swallow thickly.

"How can I believe anything you say?" You ask him quietly. "I shared so much of myself with you. I shared everything with you. And you just... Dropped me."

"I did what I thought I had to do to protect you," he whispers, his eyes still closed.

"What?"

"After the raider almost killed you all I could think was that you were a distraction. That if I pushed you away I could keep you safe."

You're quiet; arms crossed in a way that made Joel feel even smaller than he already did.

"But then I couldn't stay away from you. Like outside the Bison and ... I couldn't stop myself from wanting you. I knew it was only a matter of time before I couldn't hold it back and so I figured you needed to hate me."

Mission accomplished. You don't say it out loud but he can see it in your eyes.

"It's too late," you tell him honestly.

"No," Joel breathes, feeling like the world is getting dark around the edges. "Please don't say that."

"I can never trust you again."

"You can, I promise you can."

"No. I can't." You shake your head slowly. "You did all of this without communicating anything to me. You brought my best friend into all of this. You actively tried to hurt me all in the name of some self-righteous bullshit."

You've never seen Joel's face crumple but as you witness it now you feel a physical ache. His brows saddle and his eyes brim with tears.

"I love you."

You feel like your stomach has been hollowed out, scooped clean. He says it like it's been buried deep within his chest, unearthed and shakily laid at your feet. Joel thins his lips, jaw tightening. You stand there, wind rustling your hair. Joel Miller loves you. The thing you once thought you wanted most in the world.

"You love me?"

He's clenching his jaw tightly and you see the single tear that slides down his cheek as he nods.

"What a horrible thing to say to me right now," you tell him, lower lip quivering. "You break my heart, you treat me like shit and then you stand there and tell me that's love?"

You wipe the tears angrily from your eyes with the back of your hand. Joel watches this, biting the inside of his cheek.

"If you really loved me Joel you'd never speak to me again." Your voice is wavering. "If you really loved me you'd pretend we never met and leave me alone forever."

You look at him once more, eyes taking a final snapshot of him before you're gone, leaving him there in the snow, the cold seeping into his boots.

///

The next morning you motivated to start on your latest project. You wake early and make your way down the lane out of town with a different destination in mind. You've been given a second chance at life and you're not going to waste it.

Your boots crunch over the icy bits of snow, listening to the faint chirp of birds in the trees. You wish Buckley was here to join you this time, but the quiet of the journey helps you to focus on the task ahead.

The farmhouse comes into view and you can't help but smile at it. The snow that covers it gives it the appearance of something out of a Thomas Kinkaid painting. The kind your grandparents had hung in the house.

When you walk up the path to the front door you can't help but give a crooked grin. The house feels like a friendly monster you've come to love, a space where you can feel calm.

You push the door open with a creak and walk slowly into the space, eyes scanning the rooms and the possibilities. It's so silent in here apart from the groan of the roof with the snow.

An errant thought pops into your mind; that this will be the thing to make you go quiet. This will be where your thoughts fly when the world gets too loud. To this battered home that reflects you more than you realize.

It brings a happy sheen to your eyes as you move through the space, cataloguing as you go.

The kitchen is already a good size, clearly made for a large family. The appliances will have to be changed out for working ones.

You'll need to scrub the entire place clean, disinfect with vinegar and whatever cleaning items remain in town. You'll need to make repairs and set traps for the vermin that seek shelter here. You make mental notes of everything you pass by. Replace the soiled carpet, see if there's some good paint for the shabby exterior, check the roof for leaks.

You make notes of all of this, eager to share your findings with Tommy and Maria at a later date. You decide to stop by Arthur and Penny’s afterwards, giving them big hugs and thanks for the Chestnut drawing.

“It’s hanging right next to the one of my family.”

“He was a beautiful horse,” Arthur tells you with sincerity. “It was an honor to commit him to paper.”

Penny wraps her arms around you, cooing in your ear that she’s so happy your okay. You hug her tightly back, burying your face in her shoulder and just letting her rock you. She feels like a comforter to you, despite her extra lithe stature.

Arthur and Penny insist on having you stay for lunch and you’re thankful when all they want to do is talk to you about the bakery after you bring it up. Arthur insists on doing some of the art for it and Penny says she’ll be your first customer.

A few hours later and with a full belly you walk towards home, thinking about your future. You never expected life to turn out like this. After Charlie your world just seemed grey and bleak. But now? There’s more color, more vibrancy than you ever recall.

You think of how Charlotte would have been the first person you told about this venture. It makes your heart ache to know she’ll never be here to see the light at the end of the darkness. You smile when you think of how she would have shown up and been there to help you scrub and clean the space.

It'll be a big job and you'll need to gather a team to help you. When you think back to the tokens left for you at your front door over the last few weeks you think you might already have one. The thought causes you to smile to yourself.

You, the woman who thought she had no one actually made herself a community.

///

Despite the powerful joy you feel, the nights can feel long at times.

Not because of nightmares or bad memories, but from this strange empty feeling in your bed. Like someone else should be there to occupy it. A warm body that holds you from behind, murmurs that they want to give you everything. You always force yourself to ignore it, refusing to linger on a man who you cannot trust with your heart.

I don’t need him.

But still a nagging sensation overtakes you most evenings, having you pace around your room, attempting to pack some of your house up before you eventually give up and plop down in the chair by your window, staring up at the moon swollen in the sky.

It becomes a tradition, sitting at your bedroom window, staring up at the serene night. Your sleep becomes a bit disjointed as a result, but you don’t mind. There’s something about the absolute stillness that reminds you to take a breath, to enjoy the world instead of shrinking from it or trying to will the days to go faster.

It’s on such a night that you see a familiar figure moving down your street. His shoulders are broad, his curls highlighted in the moonlight. It’s almost three in the morning. He moves with purpose, no swaying or sloppy movements. He’s stone cold sober, weaving through the toys the children sometimes leave out on their lawns.

You throw yourself onto your bed, trembling.

A mixture of feelings hit you all at once; Desperate, syrupy longing to have him here in your arms and in your bed. And then hot, molten anger at the realization that even though you told him to leave you alone that he’s still here, haunting your block.

You let it fester within your belly for a few minutes before the latter propels you down the stairs in your robe, your hands clenched as you whip open the door.

You can see Joel is hunched on the front steps of your porch, his frame whipping around at the light and sound of the door. His eyes go owlish in his face and he springs to a stand, caught.

"I’m sorry," Joel says quickly, his voice soft. “I didn’t…. I didn’t know you were up.”

“Why the fuck are you here?” you hiss, ensuring your voice doesn’t carry down the sleepy block. “I told you to stay away from me.”

“I know, I know you did. I…. I just wanted to be near you,” Joel blurts out before closing his eyes and shaking his head. He exhales soundlessly through his nose.

“I know it’s stupid but I just. . . I feel better out here knowing you’re inside and…”

He trails off, his cheeks stained pink. He must decide that he’s not humiliated himself enough because he keeps on talking, uncaring that he looks pathetic standing there in the middle of the night, caught on your porch.

"I fucked up,” he says in a rough whisper, careful not to wake the neighbors. “I know I fucked up. I never should have let you go and-"

He immediately ceases when he sees you roll your eyes and scoff thickly. He feels more pink rush to his cheeks at your indifference.

"Joel, just stop," you say with an exhausted exhale. "You act like you know what's best for everyone. You did it with Ellie and you're doing it with me right now."

At the mention of Ellie you see a mix of emotions flood his eyes. Anger at mentioning the fact and then a strange strong concern that you said something to her about how he took her from the hospital.

"I would never tell her," you tell him swiftly, reading the relief in his dark brown eyes. "That's between you and her."

You go to turn but his tone is beseeching. Despite everything he's put you through there is still this pull to him you cannot ignore. He slowly makes his way up the porch, his long legs carrying him until he’s standing directly in front of you.

Your body responds, your hips tilting ever so slightly towards him. Up this close you can see his eyes are bloodshot. His beautiful, dark eyes hold a galaxy you once thought rivaled the stars. And they look at you now with an anguish you can almost taste.

"After we were attacked during patrols all I could think was that I fucked up,” he says, “that you were mine to protect and I d-"

He doesn't finish the sentence because you've suddenly lost all patience. Joel goes quiet, not oblivious to the way your eyes have narrowed. You actually go up on the balls of your feet because the power of your indignation propels you.

"Yours to protect? Yours?!"

Joel remains silent as you wind up into a fever pitch.

"I'm not yours" you spit out. "I never was."

Those words make Joel's stomach sink to his toes. Before he would leave in a huff and go somewhere private to lick his wounds. But he holds no anger towards you; his heart is soft and it begins stinging in the face of your disdain.

"I was yours. The first moment I held you in my arms, I was yours." He swallows thickly before his voice finds itself again, a little more gravelly. "I never stopped being yours and I still want to be."

"And what if I don't want you, Joel?"

It feels like a physical slap across his face. So much so that Joel actually flinches.

The sight of him looking so bruised by your words infuriates you. He’s hurt? What about the months of shitty treatment? Of your humiliation at the dance? Of using your friend? He comes to your house all sad because you aren’t falling over your feet to go back to him?

You feel reckless, you feel spurned, you feel like a ball of spikes and you want to poke everyone and everything that crosses your path. You don’t want Joel to show up anymore, you want to be rid of him, you want to start a new chapter, one where you don’t feel weak and soft all the time.

"I fucked Luke."

It's petty and ugly and you don't regret it for a second. You lie smoothly, hoping your words will cut him and you watch in dark satisfaction as Joel's broad shoulders sag further, the light dimming from his eyes.

"You did?"

"Yep." You cross your arms over your chest. "You think I was just gonna stay in my house mooning over you after you treated me like absolute shit?”

Joel's face looks pained even as he sucks at his teeth. You lean forward a bit, your voice a slow cruel murmur.

"You know that night I saw you at the Bison? I went and found Luke and I brought him back here and I fucked him there on my couch. Bare. And he was good, Joel. The best I've ever had."

You brace yourself, waiting for him to fight back like he always does, for that ugly sneer to cross his features, for him to unearth that anger that’s always slowly simmering under the surface. But he doesn't, he just keeps staring at the ground and his lack of action makes you feel victorious.

You don't miss the way Joel's teeth clench so tightly his jaw bulges. He shuffles his foot against the grain of your wood porch, nodding down at his shoes.

“Okay.”

His voice is low, dark and defeated. It’s enough for you. You deflate, all the anger gone from your body, replaced with a cold sadness that makes you feel weary to the bone. You give him on last cursory look.

“Don't ever come on my property ever again."

Joel knows he deserves this, even as his heart throbs and his body prickles with humiliated heat. He deserves this treatment and worse because he didn’t just let you slip through his fingers, he thrust you out into a cold and unforgiving world after saying he wanted to give you everything.

He raises his eyes to your face, wanting one last look. You don't say anything else, you just give glare at him before you slam the door in his face as Joel takes it, all the while repeating the same three words.

I’m always failing.

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