#a domestic story | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgreys · 8 months

Text

a safe haven l eight

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter l next chapter

summary: Joel encourages you to leave Luke and live the life you deserve with him and Ellie; Luke confronts you about Joel; Ellie discovers your secret and tells Joel, leading you to make a heartbreaking decision for the good of everyone in Jackson.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE. reader gets shoved and sustains an injury as a result (non life threatening). mentions of skin discoloration, the word bruise is used but no mentions of specific skin tone for reader, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. *other chapter warnings and tags include: soft Joel, domestic fluff between reader and Joel, Ellie is a little shit but we love her, death of two minor OCs, talk of grief, funeral and burial, confronation between Ellie and reader, confrontation between Joel and reader, ends with angst and a slight cliffhanger.

Word Count: 10k

News of the ambush attack spreads like a wildfire.

Jackson’s safety and security has been rattled.

One life lost and another life hangs in the balance.

People are anxious—and they’re terrified.

And who could blame anyone for feeling this way?

For the first time in a long time, their peace of mind had been completely shattered.

“Where the hell did the kid run off to?” Joel grumbles, shifting uncomfortably on the examination table.

Now that the adrenaline is beginning to wear off, he’s really starting to feel the pain in his shoulder. It had started throbbing something awful not long after you’d finished stitching him up, and the expired oxycodone tablets you had given him had very little potency left—they hadn’t done a goddamn thing to help ease his discomfort. Not that it really came as a surprise to either one of you that the two decades old painkillers hadn’t worked, but it’d been worth a shot to at least try and see if they would do him any good.

“She’s with Rose in the supply closet,” you reply, taping a piece of gauze over his wound in an effort to keep it protected until you could take him home and get him cleaned up—then you would bandage up his shoulder properly. “They’re gathering some supplies you’ll need and looking for a sling.” It’s quite foolish to be this close to Joel with Luke just mere feet away in the exam room down the hallway, but you can’t seem to help yourself. Offering him a look of empathy, you lift your hand and cup the side of his face, delicately cradling it in your palm. You softly graze your thumb over the scruff of his beard. “I know, I know. You’re itching to get out of here. I promise, as soon as Ellie comes back with the supplies you need, we’ll get you home, okay?”

Joel raises a questioning eyebrow. “We?”

You nod. “I want to help Ellie get you settled in for the night and make sure you’re comfortable.”

He lowers his voice. “But what ‘bout Luke?”

“He’s going to be tied up here at the clinic tonight. It’ll be a while before he heads home,” you assure him. Dropping your hand away from his face, it falls back down against your side as you step back, putting some distance between the both of you. It probably isn’t the wisest idea to spend the night looking after Joel considering you’re already treading on thin ice with your husband for tending to his injury earlier, but your desire to take care of the man you love simply can’t be suppressed. Sensing his unease about it, you quickly add, “But if you don’t want me to, then I completely understand.”

Holding your breath, you anxiously wait for his response.

Part of you almost hopes he’ll say that he doesn’t.

One of you needs to be the voice of reason, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be you.

“No, that ain’t it—that ain’t it at all, sweet girl,” Joel says, shooting you a stern glare for even suggesting such a thing. “‘Course I want you to come home with me and Ellie. Just don’t want you riskin’ your neck for us. I don’t want you gettin’ yourself in some kinda trouble with Luke, that’s all.”

You flash him a small, wry smile. “I’ll be fine, Joel.”

That can’t be further from the truth.

But he doesn’t have to know that.

He doesn’t have to know you’ll be in for it when you’re finally home alone with Luke.

“We hit the fucking jackpot,” Ellie announces, walking into the room. She has an old, brown canvas bag slung over her shoulder and in her hands she holds a sling for Joel’s arm. “Well, sorta. Rose said this is the only adult size the clinic has in stock, so it’s more of a loaner. She said we’ll have to bring it back as soon as his shoulder heals. It’s seen better days,” she remarks, holding it out to you. “But it should do the job.”

Taking the sling from her, you start helping Joel into it. “What about the list I gave you?” you ask her over your shoulder as you adjust the thicker strap around his neck. “Did she get you everything that I wrote down?”

Clicking her tongue, Ellie double checks the bag.

“Uh, let’s see—saline, clean bandages, and a vial of penicillin.”

“And what about the syringes?”

“She could only give me three of them since stock is too low,” she replies. “That okay?”

You shrug. “We’ll have to make it work. We can always clean and boil the needles if we have to.” You tug the strap around Joel’s neck lightly making sure you’d fastened it securely, but not too tightly, either. You touch his arm. “That feel okay, honey?” The pet name slips out, falling from your lips before you even have the chance to catch it. Blood rushes to your face and your cheeks start to burn—even with your back turned to Ellie, you can feel the smirk that’s now plastered on her face.

“Aww,” she teases. “Honey. How fucking cute is that?”

“Ellie,” Joel says her name warningly as you pick up his bloodied denim shirt and drape it over him in an effort to cover him up. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t start.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Ellie pauses, her smirk widening as she slyly adds under her breath, “Honey.”

“Jesus, it’s like this place turned into a fucking ghost town or something,” Ellie observes, glancing around as the three of you make your way down Main Street and head towards the residential side of town. “Where the hell did everybody fucking go? Did we miss something?”

“Maria must have sent out a message to call off all of today’s evening work duties,” you tell her. Even though there isn’t anyone else outside, you keep a healthy distance in between you and Joel as you walk beside him. “The last time that something like this happened, she let everyone take the night off so they could be with their families and mourn. She might even cancel tomorrow’s duties too, if she hasn’t already.”

Ellie lets out a small, understanding hum. “I see.”

“So someone dies and everythin’ just stops?” Joel asks, lightly shaking his head at the thought. “Just like that?”

“Jackson isn’t like the zones,” you remind him. “We’re a community. We all love and care for one another, and when we have a loss, it hits people hard. Peter was a husband and a friend who everyone adored. It’s not like he was some faceless number working himself to the bone to earn just enough rations to survive.” You look around the empty streets, shrugging lightly as you shove both of your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “Here in Jackson, we don’t toss bodies carelessly into a big fire pit and walk away without giving it a second thought. We bury our dead together—we grieve together. We’re still human, Joel. We can’t let the world outside these walls make us forget our humanity.”

“S’ppose you’re right,” he agrees, quietly.

The sun’s just starting to set by the time the three of you make it to Joel and Ellie’s.

“Careful, Joel,” Ellie fusses, looping her arm through his as she guides him up the steps of their front porch. “Careful, careful, careful—”

“Ellie!” he snaps irritably. “I got shot in the shoulder, not in the fuckin’ kneecap. I can fuckin’ walk just fine.”

Ellie glances over her shoulder at you, scoffing. “It honestly blows my fucking mind that you have the hots for this.” She jerks her chin towards him and rolls her eyes. “Seriously, how does someone like him even manage to pull someone like you? Pretty sure it wasn’t his incredible personality or dashing good looks that reeled you in, so what kind of voodoo spell did my old man put your ass under, princess?”

Joel glares at her. “Now you listen here y’little shit—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you cut him off. “Knock it off, both of you.” Putting a hand on his lower back, you request, “Ellie can you get the door, please?”

She nods. Letting go of Joel’s arm, she reaches into one of the back pockets of her blue jeans. She digs out her single house key and quickly unlocks the front door, ushering you both inside. “His room’s upstairs,” Ellie informs you as she flips on the lights in the foyer and leads the way up the staircase. She beckons with her hand for you to follow her down the hallway and opens the door to Joel’s bedroom. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

“For you two to stop makin’ a huge fuss over me so I can lay down and get some fuckin’ rest?” Joel hopes. “M’exhausted.”

“Soon enough,” you promise him. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“S’that door there on the left.” He pauses, shooting you a quizzical look. “Why? What are you gonna do?”

“Run a bath to get you all cleaned up, of course.”

“Gross.” Ellie makes a face at you. “Sorry, but you’re gonna have to fly solo on that one, princess. I refuse to help you give the old man a sponge bath.”

You laugh lightly, not the slightest bit surprised by her reaction. “Fair enough. How about you go downstairs and fix him something to eat while I help him wash up?”

“Don’t have to fucking tell me twice!” Ellie whirls around on the heels of her sneakers, booking it for the door. She sings out over the shoulder, “Behave yourselves in there, you two! Don’t forget there’s an innocent child present under this roof and she doesn’t need to hear you guys bumping uglies!”

Flustered, you look down at your boots.

“Ellie!” Joel bellows her name, angrily. Before he has the chance to reprimand her, she scurries out of the room and flies down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Choking back a nervous chuckle, you pivot on your heel and walk into his bathroom. You make your way over to the porcelain tub and turn on the faucet. You kneel beside it as you wait for it to fill with water, occasionally dipping your hand into the water to check the temperature.

“M’real sorry ‘bout her,” Joel apologizes from the door.

“It’s quite alright,” you assure him, despite the heat burning your face and neck from the teenager’s teasing. As soon as the tub is full, you shut off the faucet and stand up. You must have risen to your feet too quickly—a wave of dizziness sweeps over you and for a second, the room spins. Blinking furiously, you brush it off and beckon with a hand for Joel. “Bath’s ready. Come here.”

“Peach, you don’t gotta do this for me, y’know.”

“I know, Joel.”

“M’perfectly capable of cleanin’ myself up.”

“Yeah Joel, I know that too,” you say. “Now come here, please.”

Sighing, Joel slowly makes his way over towards you, taking your hand in his. He gives it a gentle squeeze. “You’ve done more than enough for me today, darlin’. I appreciate you for wantin’ to take care of me, but you don’t—”

You cut him off by tenderly pressing your mouth to his. “Then please, for the sake of what little sanity I have left tonight, just let me,” you murmur quietly against his lips. You reach up, pushing his soiled shirt off of his shoulders, letting the torn, bloodied denim fall to the floor behind him in a crumpled heap. You place your palm on his bare chest, right over his heart and feel it thrum strong and steady beneath your fingertips. Perring up at him, you ask, “Will you let me take care of you, Joel? Please?”

He sighs again, this time in defeat. “It really ain’t fair, y’know.”

“What’s not fair?”

Joel brushes a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“The fact that I can’t ever fuckin’ say no to you.”

With a satisfied smile, you start to help him out of the sling, setting it on the counter. You then take off his belt, unbutton his jeans, and pull down his zipper for him.

“Turn around,” he says, kicking off his boots.

Amused, you cock an eyebrow at him. “Joel, are you kidding me?” He nods and you shake your head at him, reminding him, “I’ve seen you naked plenty of times before.”

“Never in the light,” he counters, sheepishly. “S’always in the dark.”

You lean forward and kiss his collarbone, eliciting a tiny groan from him. “Joel, please,” you mumble against his warm skin. “Don’t be silly. Now come on, let’s hurry before Ellie comes back upstairs with your dinner.” You take a step back and tug at his jeans, pulling them down his legs along with his boxer briefs. After dumping his dirty clothes into the woven laundry basket behind the door, you help him into the bathtub.

Joel hisses out in relief as he sinks into the water.

Once he’s settled in, you kneel beside it once again.

“How does it feel?”

“Feels good,” he remarks, the hot water easing the aches in his bones that have nothing to do with his injury and everything with his age. “Real fuckin’ good.”

Cupping your hands together, you dip them into the water and start wetting his hair. You can’t help but smile when you notice how it curls more so than usual when it’s wet. “Scoot forward and then lean back a little. I’m going to wash your hair—I don’t want to soak the gauze on your shoulder.” Reaching across him, you grab his bottle of shampoo, twisting the cap off. You pour some of the product into your palm and set the bottle back down. After lathering the shampoo between your hands, you start running the suds through his damp locks.

“Christ,” Joel’s eyes roll into the back of his head as soon as you start massaging his scalp. “Fuck, sweetheart. Y’know, I think I could get used to this,” he admits with a sigh of content. “Feels fuckin’ incredible.”

You smile again, opening your mouth to speak, but then immediately clamp it shut.

Suddenly, you’re feeling a little off—something doesn’t feel right.

Brows knitting together in confusion, your smile falters.

Normally, you love the scent of Joel’s shampoo.

You can’t even begin to count all the nights you’d hold him in your arms, breathing in the earthiness of jojoba oil combined with calming lavender from his hair as he rested his head on your chest. It’s usually fairly subtle, however now, as you wash his hair, the scent seems heavier and much more potent than usual—it makes your stomach churn violently and you can taste the bile as it slowly creeps its way up your throat. Pausing, you take a brief moment to breathe your way through the wave of nausea and swallow back the bitterness, willing yourself not to be sick right there in his bath. Worried you actually might, you drop your hands from his hair, close your eyes, and sit back on your heels as you wait for the feeling to subside.

“Baby.” You hear the water slosh around him. He tries reaching out for you with his injured arm, but grimaces, unable to make it very far before a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

After a minute, it passes. You open your eyes only to meet Joel’s as he watches you with concern. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong, darlin’? You feelin’ alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Leaning forward, you lift your hands to continue washing his hair. Shrugging dismissively, you realize, “I think I just need to eat something. It’s been a while since my last meal.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Breakfast,” you reluctantly admit. “I had quite a bit of work to do at the stables, so I decided to skip lunch today, and before you scold me for it, I know I shouldn’t have worked through lunch.” You flash him a crooked little grin as he pins you with a disapproving frown. “I promise I’ll eat something as soon as I get home, Joel.”

“You’d better.”

After rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, you take his washcloth and lather it up using his bar of castile soap.

“How’s the water, honey? Does it still feel alright?” you ask him sweetly, running the wet, soapy washcloth over his chest and neck. You’re careful to keep it away from his injured shoulder. Leaning over the side of the bathtub, you start washing his side, being gentle as you sweep over the bruise he’d gotten from falling off of his horse during the attack. A lock of hair falls loose from your ponytail and into your face.

Joel lifts his hand out of the water, tucking it behind your ear. “S’perfect,” he murmurs, his hand grazing your cheek. Water drips off of his arm and lands on your camisole, soaking through the thin cotton. “Looks like you’re gonna have to take off your shirt, peach. Got’cha wet.” He chuckles at his own awful innuendo.

“You’re unbelievable, Joel! I just pulled a bullet out of your shoulder, and you’re already thinking of getting me naked,” you tease him with a giggle. “Oh, and by the way, I hope you know that there will be none of that for a while, not until you’re all healed up. Got it?”

“You can’t be fuckin’ serious.” His face falls when he realizes that you aren’t joking. “But you said it could be four to six weeks until I heal. How am I s’pposed to go that fuckin’ long without touchin’ you?”

Giggling again, you give his chest a gentle pat. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Rolling his eyes at you, Joel grumbles incoherently underneath his breath.

“Oh, come here, you big grump.” You lean forward and press a delicate kiss to his right temple. Your lips linger over the small, jagged scar near his hairline, causing him to shudder slightly.

Joel hasn’t vocalized it to you, but you know that of all the scars he possesses, the one on his temple is the scar he’s the most self-conscious about, especially now that you know how he’d gotten it.

“You know, you were right about Ellie,” you murmur softly against his skin. “About her knowing. You were right to warn me that night.”

He frowns. “She confronted you ‘bout us?”

Pulling away from him, you nod. “She sure did.”

“Well, I reckon that explains why she was givin’ us so much shit earlier,” he huffs, shaking his head. “When did this happen?”

“Earlier this afternoon, when we were alone at the stables,” you answer. “She offered to work through lunch with me and it was just the two of us. It happened just before Tommy showed up and told us you had been shot.”

Joel grimaces. “Might regret askin’ this, but what did she say?”

You chew nervously on your bottom lip.

“She said she wants me to leave Luke.”

His eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline.

He knew his kid was pretty bold, but to go as far as telling you to leave your husband was pretty ballsy, even for her. He should reprimand her for it, but he can’t fault her for being brave enough to do what he still hasn’t mustered up the courage to do himself. “She did? What else did she say to you?”

“That the three of us could be a family together. A real family.” You drop the washcloth into the water and rest both arms on the edge of the tub as you continue filling him in on the encounter between you and Ellie. “She said it wasn’t complicated—that all I had to do was take off the ring, pack up my things, and leave him. She also said that I could just move in here and live with you two.” Pausing, you let out a small, breathy laugh. “I told her I would love that more than anything, but I can’t. It just isn’t possible. I can’t leave my husband.”

His jaw clenches, teeth gritting together. “‘Cause he won’t fuckin’ let you.”

You can’t help yourself and you laugh again.

Now you’re absolutely sure of it. Joel and Ellie really are cut from the same cloth.

You breathe out a long, melancholic sigh.

“Joel, I love you. And I’ve grown to love Ellie, too. You both make me happy,” you tell him, softly. “Ever since you two came into my life, something in me changed. It was almost like I’d forgotten what it felt like to love and to be loved in return. I thought I’d lost that part of me when I lost my father two years ago. I thought that part of me had died along with him. His loss left left me feeling so empty. It left a void inside of me—but you and Ellie have filled it. It’s kind of silly, but sometimes I honestly think he sent you two to me. It’s almost like he knew I needed you.”

His eyes soften. “Ain’t silly at all, darlin’.”

“You both mean so fucking much to me,” you confess.

“And you mean so fuckin’ much to us—you belong with us, peach. Your place is with us. Your home, it ain’t with Luke. It’s here, with me and with Ellie.”

“I know, trust me, I know that Joel. But I can’t—”

Joel sits up straight in the tub, wincing slightly.

“Joel, stop. Come on, you need to take it easy.”

Placing both hands on his chest, you try to push him back against the tub, but Joel’s hand reaches up and catches one of your wrists. He lightly curls his fingers around it. “Don’t you think it’s what your dad would want?” he questions. “You think he’d want you to be livin’ a life of misery with Luke?”

“Of course he wouldn’t. But I can’t leave him, Joel.”

“Look, whatever it is that you’re afraid of—”

“Joel, please,” you whisper, thickly. “Don’t do this.”

“You ain’t gotta be afraid, baby. I can protect you. I can keep you safe.” His thumb lightly caresses the thin, delicate skin on the inside of your wrist as his eyes meet yours. “I mean it. I can keep you safe, my sweet girl. I would never let anythin’ bad happen. I swear it. I wouldn’t let anythin’ bad happen to you, and neither would the kid. She loves you too goddamn much.”

You swallow the emotional lump in your throat.

Lifting your wrist, Joel feathers a gentle kiss on the inside of it. He feels your pulse racing against his lips. “You’d be alright with us, y’know.”

“I know I would.”

“Then what the hell’s stoppin’ you?” Joel challenges. “We’re your family, baby. We’ve got you. No matter what—me and Ellie, we’ve got you, peach.”

Joel makes it sound so simple, so fucking easy.

But he doesn’t know Luke the way you know Luke.

He won’t let you go, not without some kind of fight.

And Joel Miller wouldn’t be afraid to fight back.

He would kill Luke, if it came down to it.

After a moment’s silence, you finally speak.

“Just—just give me a little time so I can figure things out, okay?” you bargain with him. “I need some time to sort things out.” Before Joel can even ask you what you’re talking about, you cut him off and shoot him a pleading look. “Please, Joel. Please. I’m just asking for some time, that’s all. If I can have it my way, I’ll be living here with you and Ellie before winter comes around in a couple of months.”

Joel sighs heavily. “Fine. I’ll give you time, but only on one condition.”

Apprehensive, you question, “What condition is that?”

“He does anythin’ to you, you come and tell me so I can handle it. Alright?”

“Joel, he’s not going to do anything to me.” The lie rolls off of your tongue with such ease that it actually takes you by surprise. “He’s not going to—”

He stops you. “Just promise me, baby. Promise that you’ll come to me if you need me. Please. S’all I’m askin’ of you.”

Knowing there is no other choice but to agree, you nod. “Of course I will.”

It’s a promise you can’t and won’t keep.

“That’s my girl.” Joel places another soft kiss onto your wrist. “I love you. I love you more than fuckin’ life itself.” He glances down and brushes his thumb over your wedding band. “Y’know, someday you’re gonna take this goddamn thing off for good and you ain’t gonna have to put it back on. You’ll be mine.”

Frowning, you counter, “But I’m already yours, Joel.”

“All mine,” he rephrases himself. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll find a ring to put on your finger myself some day.”

Worried you’ll break down, you gently tug your wrist out of his hand. “We should finish up in here. Ellie’s going to come upstairs soon.”

After you finish rinsing off the suds of soap from his body, you drain the tub and help him out of it and into a clean towel, wrapping it around his waist. You hand him a second towel which he uses to haphazardly dry off his chest and hair before walking back out into his bedroom. With his permission, you start searching through his drawers for some comfortable clothes. You pluck a pair of clean boxer briefs from one drawer and faded, navy blue sweatpants from another. Once you help him dress, you instruct, “Sit down. I’m going to bandage your shoulder.”

Obediently, Joel perches himself on the foot of his bed.

You stand in front of him, unrolling the bandage.

“C’mere.” He grabs your hip, pulling you between his thighs. “Y’know, you make a real cute nurse.” He slides his hand up your shirt, his fingers gliding up the soft, smooth skin of your stomach.

“Joel, stop. Cut it out,” you scold him, playfully. “I need to make sure I do this right. Don’t distract me.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll behave,” Joel gruffs. He withdraws his hand from under your shirt and keeps it to himself.

You wrap the elastic, flesh toned bandage over his injured shoulder, pulling it behind his back before bringing it around across the front of his chest—after wrapping the excess material snugly around Joel’s bicep, you secure it, fastening the plastic clips at the end of it. “How does that feel? It’s not too tight, is it?”

“S’fine,” he answers. After you help him back into the sling, he wraps his opposite arm around you, pulling you closer to him. “So do I get a kiss or somethin’ for bein’ such a good patient for you, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I suppose you earned it.” Grinning, you carefully wrap an arm around his neck and lean down, swelling his lips with your own in a deep kiss. He swallows the soft moans that find their way from the back of your throat and into his mouth as his hand once again snakes its way up your shirt, touching each and every last inch of skin he can possibly reach.

“Oh fuck, my eyes!” Ellie’s voice cries behind you.

Startled, you rip yourself out of Joel’s grasp.

She stands at the door holding a steaming bowl in her hands, a horrified look on her face.

“Ellie,” you say her name, breathlessly. “We didn’t hear you coming up the stairs—”

“Obviously fucking not,” she huffs, rolling her eyes at you as she makes her way into his bedroom. “Well, now that I’m fucking scarred for life—” She pauses and sets the bowl down on Joel’s nightstand. “Here you go, Romeo. I made you some soup. And by made I really mean, I opened a can of twenty one year old chicken noodle soup and warmed it up on the stove.” Smirking, she adds, “So chow down. Unless you’re way too busy sucking her face off to eat, of course.”

Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Y’know I only need one hand to wring that little neck of yours, right?”

Before she has the opportunity to fire back, you step in. “I have to get going. It’s getting late and I need to make it home before Luke does.” You turn to Ellie. “He’s going to need a penicillin injection every six hours, okay? He’s pretty vulnerable to infection right now so he has to be on antibiotics for the next week or so.”

She nods, giving you a thumbs up. “You got it, doc.”

“Normally, you inject penicillin into the buttock—” You pause, holding back a laugh as a look of pure disgust flashes across the young girl’s face. “But, it can also be injected right into the thigh muscle. I’ll show you.” Pointing to the exact spot on the outer portion of his thigh, you instruct, “Five hundred milligrams, no more and no less. Easy enough?”

“Oh, okay. So that’s how you inject penicillin,” Ellie muses with a hum. After a moment, she mutters under her breath, “That would have been fucking useful to know about eight months ago.”

Your lips purse together tightly as you recall her story about what happened in Colorado with David and his group.

“What’d you say, kid?” Joel asks, confused.

“Nothing,” she replies, innocently.

Clearing your throat, you reach up, smoothing a hand over his damp curls, slicking them back. “I’m going to head home. Get plenty of rest, alright? I’ll come over and check up on you as often as I can. I promise.” You lean down, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Jesus, you two make me so fucking sick already,” Ellie remarks, making a loud gagging noise. However, when you look at her, she’s smiling.

You walk into the house, only to find it empty.

Luke must have still been caught up at the clinic.

It seems like a good sign that Carl might still be alive.

After taking a quick, hot shower, you hastily put on some comfortable clothes and hurry downstairs to prepare a late dinner. You had just finished peeling some boiled russet potatoes you planned to mash up when the sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut echoes throughout the house. You hear his footsteps approaching and a chill runs down the length of your spine just like back in the clinic—all you can think about is what he’d said to you as he was leaving the room.

“We’ll talk about this at home.”

Anxiously, you turn around just as Luke enters the kitchen. He’d changed his clothes at the clinic, trading his blood soaked scrubs for a pair of dark wash blue jeans and a plain black button up shirt. “Hey,” you greet him, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel. “How’s, um—how’s Carl doing?”

“He didn’t make it either,” he replies curtly. He sets his black leather satchel down onto the kitchen table. “He lost too much blood during surgery. And without a machine for a transfusion—” He stops short. He hangs his head and even from you’re standing at the stove, you can see the way his jaw clenches.

Luke takes it hard whenever he loses someone—and he always takes it out on you.

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to tell him. Despite trying to remain calm and collected, you’d started wringing your hands together out of habit.

“Well, at least there was one hero in that clinic today,” he scoffs out bitterly with a shake of his head.

You frown. “Luke, please don't do that. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Peter and Carl’s injuries were too severe. And besides, you said it yourself. We don’t have the proper equipment here in the commune.” You know there is no consoling him, not a single word of comfort could ease the blow of his failure, and yet, you find yourself trying anyway. “You did all you could do for them with what little we have. There’s nothing you could have done differently to change the outcome. Their wounds were fatal. Their fate was sealed long before they made it back to Jackson.”

Luke pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales a long, exasperated breath through his lips. It’s like watching a ticking time bomb.

“Look, it’s been a long day for everyone. Why don’t you go upstairs to take a shower, relax a bit, and then come back down for dinner?” you offer. “I’ve got a chicken baking in the oven, it shouldn’t be all that much longer now—”

Luke glares at you. “I just lost two fucking people today. Do you really think I’m fucking hungry right now?”

“You still need to eat,” you say, your voice small.

“Are you really that fucking stupid?” He starts to walk over towards you. “What?” He asks when he notices you flinch, your body shrinking away from him. “What’s the matter, darling? You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

You answer him in the steadiest voice you can, but even you can hear the way it trembles with fear.

“Of course I’m not afraid of you, Luke.”

He lifts one of hands, prompting you to flinch again. “I’m not going to hit you,” he murmurs, touching your cheek before taking it in his palm. Knowing how uncomfortable he’s making you, his green eyes seek yours, only making it worse. “How is your boyfriend? Is he doing alright?”

The color drains from your face. “Excuse me?”

Luke cups your cheek harder. “Patching him up back at the clinic wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

You grab his wrist and try to tear his hand away from your face as you sputter, “What—what are you talking about, Luke?”

“Esther came into the clinic this evening with Martha and Lisa so they could say their goodbyes. While we were out in the hallway giving them a moment of privacy, Esther told me she saw you with Joel and Ellie. She said she watched you walk into their house with them—is that true?”

Left without another choice but to tell him the truth, you nod meekly. “It’s true,” you confess. “I walked them back to their place.” As soon as you see the anger flash in his eyes, you begin to ramble an explanation. “I went home with them so I could help Ellie get him settled. She’s fifteen years old, Luke. I needed to show her how to care for his wound and how to inject the penicillin he needs, that’s all—”

“Bullshit,” Luke seethes through his teeth. He grabs your shoulders, taking them harshly in his hands. “I’m going to ask you one more time—what the hell is going on between you and Joel Miller? And before you even think about giving me the same lie about his fucking brat of a kid, just know that I don’t fucking believe you.”

“Luke, let go of me—”

He starts shaking you as if it’ll somehow shake the answer out of you. “Fucking tell me the truth!”

You squirm in his grasp. “Luke, please! Let go of me!”

He shakes you harder, his violence escalating.

“Why were you at the fucking clinic in the first place, huh?”

“Luke, stop it! You’re hurting me!”

“What were you doing there in the first place?” He repeats, shouting the question into your face. “What were you fucking doing there? You heard your boyfriend got shot while he was out on patrol? You needed to make sure that he was okay? That he was still alive? Is that it?”

“Ellie asked me to go to the clinic with her! She was with me at the stables when Tommy showed up and told her Joel had been shot,” you try telling him. “She didn’t want to go alone!”

Finally, Luke stops rattling you. “And I suppose she asked you to tend to his injury, too?” He sneers. “She asked you to patch up his wound?”

Dizzy, you take a second to catch a quick breath, then respond, “Actually, she did. She and Tommy both asked me to take care of his shoulder and if you don’t believe me, then you can go find him and ask him yourself!”

“How fucking convenient,” Luke snorts. “Do you honestly take me for a fucking fool?”

“Luke—”

He shoves you back roughly.

Your side meets the sharp edge of the countertop in a loud, painful thud. Clutching at your ribcage, you sink down to the kitchen floor, curling yourself up into the fetal position as you brace yourself and wait for what’s undoubtedly coming next.

Luke steps towards you, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides. But before he has the chance to lay another finger on you, the doorbell rings.

You breathe out a small sigh of relief.

“Get up,” he hisses. “Go answer it. Now.”

Your side is throbbing, but you scramble up to your feet quickly and hurry to do as you’re told. “I’ll be right there,” you call out, wincing. You briefly stop in front of a mirror hanging in the hallway and check your reflection to make sure that you look—well, that you look normal. You fix up your hair a little, smooth your shirt, and put on a brave face before opening the door. “Tommy,” you say his name in surprise. Your eyes then flicker to his wife. “Maria. What are you two doing here?”

“Sorry, little lady. We know that it’s kinda late,” he apologizes, holding Maria's hand gently in his. “But we’re wonderin’ if we could come in for a minute to talk to you and Luke?”

Without hesitating, you step aside to allow the couple into the foyer of your home. “Of course you can,” you say, closing the door behind them. “I’ve got a late dinner in the oven. If you guys are hungry, then you’re more than welcome to join us. I made plenty.”

“That’s awful kind of you,” Tommy says with a grateful nod. “But it might have to wait for another time. We’ve still got a few more people to see tonight.”

Luke steps out of the kitchen. “Tommy? Maria? Is everything alright? It’s not the baby, is it?”

Maria places a hand on her swollen midsection.

At about five months, her belly had finally popped.

“The baby’s just fine,” she assures him. “Been kicking a storm up all day long.”

“Good.” Luke stands beside you. “I know today has been very difficult, but remember to take it easy, alright? You can’t stress too much, or it can put the baby in distress. I don’t want you going into preterm labor, Maria.”

She cradles her belly. “I know, Luke. I promise, I’m being very careful,” she swears. “We’re just going out door to door and checking in on everyone, offering support where it’s needed.”

Tommy nods, his face looking worn and tired as he pulls Maria close and tucks her into his side. “What happened today was a real fuckin’ tragedy. Two people gone, just like that,” he shakes his head, sadly. “We just wanna make sure everyone’s doin’ okay.”

“How’s Martha?” you ask, tentatively. “Lisa and her daughters, how are they holding up?”

“They’re devastated,” Maria replies, sighing. “Lisa can keep it all together for the sake of her girls. It’s a whole different story for Martha, though. Peter was the only person she had, you know?”

“I can check in on her,” you offer, kindly. “I can stop by on the way to the stables in the morning to see her. Make sure that she’s taking care of herself.”

“We actually canceled tomorrow’s work duties, so if you two need to take the day off, you can,” Maria informs you, her eyes flicking from you to Luke.

“We’re holdin’ a memorial service tomorrow in the old church house,” Tommy states. “And the burial will take place right before sunset.”

“We’ll be there,” Luke nods, taking your hand in his. He squeezes it tightly. Harshly. “Won’t we, sweetheart?”

You wince a little. “Yes, of course we will.”

Tommy notices the way you squirm. “You alright there, little lady?”

Luke squeezes your hand even tighter. It’s a warning.

“Yes,” you lie to him. “I’m perfectly fine.”

The next morning, you stop by Martha’s place, just like you’d told Maria you would. While you had no words that could console the grieving widow or ease the pain of her loss, you sat with her for a good hour and simply let her cry into your shoulder. She tuckered herself out quickly, and just before she fell asleep on the couch in her living room, you made her a promise, telling her you would see her at the memorial later that evening.

“What do you even wear to a funeral?” Ellie asks, curiously. She sits comfortably in Shimmer’s black leather saddle, the mare’s reins clutched in one of her hands. Despite work duties being canceled for the entire day, the two of you met at the stables to tend to the horses—the animals had enough water and food to get by until the following day, but still needed to be exercised so you’d suggested a short ride in the field out behind the paddock.

“Well, people typically wear black to funerals,” you answer, leading the way across the vacant patch of land on Ranger’s back. “Ellie, how many times am I going to have to tell you to hold onto the reins with both hands?” you chastise her over your shoulder. “I’m serious. The last thing we need is for you to fall off and break a bone. Both hands, missy.”

“Alright, alright. Sheesh, mom.” You can’t see it, but you hear the joking grin in her tone. “Why do people wear black to funerals? Was that always a thing?”

“Yeah. It’s the traditional color of mourning.”

“Why black? Why not like, green or something?”

“I don’t know, go ask the Ancient Romans.”

“The who?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Nevermind.”

Clicking your tongue, you start steering Ranger, signaling him to turn back towards the paddock.

“I don’t even think I own anything that’s black,” Ellie says behind you. She gently squeezes Shimmer’s sides with her calves and the horse breaks out into a trot, catching up with you and Ranger. “Green it’ll have to be, then. Oh, by the way, Joel told me to tell you that he’ll see you at midnight. Your usual place.”

You frown. “He’s one day into his recovery. He needs to rest.”

“That’s what I fucking told him. But I guess he just can’t stay away from you, princess,” she teases as the horses arrive back into the paddock.

“Alright, let me hop off Ranger and I’ll help you—”

You stop short, watching as Ellie swings her leg over the back of Shimmer’s saddle and jumps off.

She grins. “Please. I’m practically a professional at dismounting horses now. Call me Seabiscuit.”

You snort. “Ellie, Seabiscuit was the horse.”

“Oh.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Well, you know what I fucking mean.”

Laughing, you roll your eyes at her. You pull a foot free from one of the stirrups then swing your leg over and start dismounting Ranger—but the second you start going down, your opposite leg still in the stirrup supporting your weight wobbles and you lose your balance. You fall forward against the horse, accidentally sliding down his saddle.

To add insult to injury, the horn catches your sleeve and hikes up your blouse as soon as you land your feet on the ground.

“That was real fucking graceful,” Ellie cackles as she watches you try to unsnag your shirt from the saddle. Walking around Ranger to get a better view of the mishap, her grin suddenly vanishes. Her brown eyes widen when she catches a glimpse of the discoloration that starts near your hip and goes up your entire length of your side. “What the hell? Is that a fucking bruise?”

Finally, you free yourself from the saddle. Feeling your heart pound, you tug your shirt down into place, but it’s too late.“Ellie—”

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened to me,” you fib. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?” Ellie repeats, incredulously. “There’s a fucking bruise the size of the state of Wyoming on you and you’re fucking fine? Really?”

“I fell,” you tell her, giving her the first excuse that you could think of. “I’m really clumsy, Ellie. Clearly I am.” You gesture to the saddle. “You saw it, just now. I almost fell off a damn horse.”

“You fell.” Ellie raises her eyebrow at you. “Or were you pushed?”

Staring at her helplessly, you reassure her, “Ellie, it’s nothing. I fell and I hit myself. Alright?”

She steps towards you and grabs the hem of your blouse, yanking it up. “That,” she points her index finger at your side, “That is not fucking nothing! That is fucking something.”

“Ellie!” Gasping, you harshly slap her hand away.

“Luke did that you, didn’t he?”

Her accusation comes without hesitation.

“Of course he didn’t,” you stammer. “I told you I fell—”

“Bullshit. I’m fucking telling Joel.”

She spins around on the heel of her sneaker.

“Ellie! No!” You catch her arm, stopping her. “No, please don’t do that! Don’t tell him. Please don’t tell Joel.”

“Then I’ll tell Tommy and Maria,” Ellie says, shrugging. “I’ll tell them about what their precious doctor is doing to you behind closed fucking doors—” She starts to leave the paddock and you’re quick to stop her once more.

“No! You cannot tell anyone! Not Tommy, not Maria, or anyone else. And you especially cannot tell Joel.”

“He’s fucking hurting you!” Ellie all but shouts at you.

“Ellie, I have it under control—”

She snorts, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, clearly.” Sarcasm drips from her tone. “I can tell you have it under control.”

You take her hands, clasping them in yours. “I can handle Luke, Ellie. It’s all under control.” Your gaze meets hers. “Please. Do not tell anyone about this.”

“But—”

“Ellie, please. I’m begging you,” you plead with her. “Don’t tell anyone—and especially not Joel. Please.”

It pains you to see her look so fucking helpless.

Maybe it’s selfish of you to ask her, a child, to keep such a secret.

But it’s for the good of Jackson.

“Swear to me that you won’t tell him about this. Swear it.”

Again, she looks helpless, helpless, helpless.

Eventually, she sighs out in defeat. “Okay. Fine. I swear I won’t tell Joel.”

“Or anyone else,” you add.

Her eyes fall away from yours as she mumbles, “I swear I won’t tell Joel. Or anyone else.”

Later that evening, after the memorial service, everyone makes their way to Jackson Cemetery, a makeshift graveyard right outside the west wall that’s protected by a steel fence. With men and women armed and standing around the entire perimeter of the site, the burial carried on. Miles, a former pastor, reads verses from a bible out loud at the request of the men’s families who were people of faith. You stand at Martha’s side, holding her as Tommy and two other men lower her husband’s casket into the ground and begin to shovel in the dirt.

From the corner of your eye, you see Joel as he stands in the crowd with Ellie and Dina. The girls have their arms linked together. Ellie looks over at you, then glances away, sourly shaking her head as Luke puts a comforting hand on your back. She knows it’s just for show. He’s playing the role of a good husband when he’s anything but.

After the burial, the entire town is invited back to the commune mess hall for the traditional funeral repast. Food, drinks, and plenty of stories of the patrolmen are shared—fond memories are exchanged in efforts to lighten the somber mood.

Joel watches with jealousy as you stand by Luke’s side the entire evening, his arm secured around your waist. He’d been sitting at a table across the hall near the doors with Ellie. Forcing himself to look away from you, he turns his attention to her and notices she hasn’t scarfed down her food as usual. Joel would often have to tell her to slow down before she made herself sick, but tonight, he doesn’t have to. Instead of inhaling her potatoes like a human vacuum, she pushes them around on her plate with her fork.

“Is everythin’ alright, kiddo?” he asks her, worriedly.

She lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

He frowns. “Ellie, don’t lie to me.”

She sighs again. “Okay, everything’s not fine.”

“What’s goin’ on? The funeral bother you?”

Ellie looks over towards you and Luke, nervously biting down on her lower lip. She then glances back at Joel.

“Ellie? What is it?”

“She made me swear not to tell anyone. Especially not you.”

“Who?”

The second your name comes out of her mouth, he stiffens in his chair.

“I swore to her I wouldn’t say anything, but—”

“Ellie, what the hell’s goin’ on?”

“She’s going to be so mad at me if I tell you, Joel.”

He shakes his head. “No one’s gonna be mad, kiddo. I can promise you that. No one is gonna be mad at you, alright?” He promises her. “Just tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“Well, you see—” Ellie hesitates. “The thing is—”

She trails off, unsure of how to say it.

“Christ, Ellie. Just fuckin’ spit it out.”

“I think he’s hitting her,” she finally blurts out.

Joel freezes. “What?”

“Luke. I think he’s hitting her or something.”

“Why do you think that?” he asks, his voice rigid.

Ellie lowers her voice. “Today we were taking two of the horses out on a ride around the field behind the paddock. When we got back, she slipped while she was dismounting Ranger. Her sleeve got stuck on his saddle and her shirt pulled up.” She pauses, sucking in a deep breath, then exhaling it before saying, “I saw a huge bruise on her side. It was fucking massive. It looked fresh, too.”

His blood begins to boil. “You ask her ‘bout it?”

“Of course I did. When I asked her what happened, she told me that she fell. But I didn’t believe her. When I asked her if Luke did it—”

“She admitted he did.” It’s a statement, not a question.

Ellie’s face falls. “Well no, not exactly. But Luke did it, I know he fucking did it, Joel. He’s hurting her. It’s why she won’t leave him. She’s too fucking scared of him.”

Joel looks up, his lips pressed into a tight line.

His eyes meet Luke’s from across the room.

The man gives him a small, curt nod and takes your hand in his, pulling you towards where Martha and Lisa are sitting with a group of friends, among them, Tommy and Maria.

“Joel?” Ellie says his name, nervously.

“I’ll handle it, Ellie.”

“But—”

He cuts her off.

“I said I’ll fuckin’ handle it.”

Despite knowing that Joel needed to rest, the part of you that was incredibly selfish just couldn’t wait to see him—to be with him, to hold him in your arms and kiss him. Especially after such a long, gloomy and sorrowful evening.

When midnight rolls around, you find him already waiting behind the barn. Normally, it was you who would always arrive first, so when you see Joel standing there by the paddock fence, you can’t help but feel a little surprised.

“You beat me here,” you remark with a small laugh as you approach him.

“Yeah. I did.”

Excited to see him, you don’t even catch the tone of his voice at first.

Serious.

Upset.

You beam at him and say, “Hi, honey. I missed you.” Smiling, you lift an arm to throw it around Joel’s neck in a careful hug, but he catches your wrist in his hand and stops you, the creases in his brows deepening.

“Show me.”

Your smile slowly falters. “What?”

“Show me,” he repeats, stiffly.

“What are you talking about?” Puzzled, you pull your wrist out of his grasp and step back.

He’d never spoken to you like that. He’d never looked at you like that before, either. Angrily.

“Joel, what’s going on?”

“Ellie told me ‘bout the bruise.”

Your blood runs frigid in your veins. “What?”

“Earlier at the repast. She told me ‘bout the bruise she saw on your side today.”

“It’s nothing, Joel—”

“Show. Me.” Joel bites the words out through gritted teeth.

You stare at him for a moment, then sigh.

With little choice in the matter, you lift the hem of your shirt.

“Here,” you say bitterly, turning your body. “Is this what you want to see?”

His stomach churns violently.

Ellie hadn’t been exaggerating about the size of it.

The painful mark starts at your hip, and it goes up the entire length of the side of your torso until it feathers out beneath your bustline.

“I fell.” Your voice is flat, emotionless. Because you don’t know how else to react now that he knows the truth.

You don’t know what to do or what to say.

So, you turn the dial back to numb.

“The kid didn’t believe that bullshit lie and I fuckin’ don’t believe it either. We both fuckin’ know Luke did this to you.”

He almost expects you to deny it, but when you don’t, it’s all the confirmation he needs. He starts off towards the residential side of town, prepared to yank Luke out of bed and rip him to fucking shreds.

“Joel, where the hell are you going?” you huff as you start following behind him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“M’gonna fuckin’ kill him,” Joel seethes. He lifts a hand and starts clawing at the strap of his sling to take it off. “For puttin’ his fuckin’ hands on you—”

You grab his arm. “Joel, please! Don’t!”

Refusing to stop, he drags you along behind him.

“Joel, stop! Please, can you just wait for one fucking minute?”

Digging your heels into the dirt, you yank at his arm, and plead for him to listen to you.

“Joel, just give me the chance to explain!”

Finally, he comes to a halt and whirls around, his nostrils flaring. With furiousness in his dark eyes, he faces you.

“You promised me! You fuckin’ promised me you’d come to me if he did somethin’ to you—” Realizing he’s shouting at you, Joel stops. Seeing your bottom lip quiver, he softens ever so slightly. He knows you’re not the person to take his anger out on. No, that person is fast asleep in his bed. “How long? How long has he been doin’ this to you? And don’t you lie to me.”

“Two years,” you admit in a whisper.

Joel’s face pales.

Swallowing dryly, you shake your head. “Joel, he’s the only doctor in this town. There’s so much pressure that he carries on his back. He’s responsible for all of the people in this community,” you begin to explain. “It’s a lot to handle for one person, he’s always stressed—”

“And so beating you is the way he fuckin’ unwinds after a long day of work?” Joel, for the life of him, can’t fucking believe you’re attempting to defend Luke.

“He just loses his temper sometimes. It gets the best of him and then I’ll say something or so something to piss him off even more—”

Joel catches your hand in his. “Baby, fuckin’ stop that right now. Stop fuckin’ makin’ excuses for him. He’s fuckin’ hurtin’ you, and if something ain’t done, there’s a good chance he’s gonna wind up killin’ you.”

“I have everything under control, Joel.”

“No, you fuckin’ don’t. He’s fuckin’ hittin’ you.” Joel’s voice breaks as he speaks. “He’s hurtin’ you.”

“I can fix it,” you say, though you sound more helpless than anything else. “I just need time, but I can fix this, Joel.”

“No, peach. You can’t fix it. But I can—all you gotta do is let me.”

You look down at your shoes, feeling tears glaze over your eyes. “No. Jackson needs him, Joel.”

“But what ‘bout you?”

“I’m just one person,” you whisper. “You have to look at the bigger picture here. I’m just one fucking person.”

“One fuckin’ person who means everythin’ to me,” he says, squeezing your hand. “If you won’t let me handle him, then we go to Tommy and Maria—”

“If he gets locked up or thrown out, we won’t have a doctor, Joel. Don’t you fucking understand that?”

Joel’s beginning to lose his patience.

He knows you’re only trying to look out for the rest of the community, but at what fucking cost?

Your own life, possibly?

Maybe it’s selfish, but he doesn’t care about everybody else. He cares about you.

Dropping your hand, he steps back, shaking his head. “I ain’t gonna let him keep on hurtin’ you. I’m gonna put a stop to it.”

“Joel, you’re just going to make things fucking worse! I will handle it—I will fix it. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you stepping in trying to play the hero. It’s all under control, okay?”

“Like hell it fuckin’ is. First thing tomorrow, I’m gonna pay Luke a visit at the clinic. Have a little talk with him, man to man, or whatever he fuck he is—”

Your stomach sinks at the mere thought of it. “No! Don’t you fucking dare,” you warn him. “Don’t you even think about it, Joel.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Stand around with my fuckin’ hands behind my back and just let him keep on hurtin’ you? Ain’t gonna fuckin’ happen.” Realizing your stance on the matter is firm, Joel comes to his own decision. “Listen, sweet girl. If you ain’t gonna give me permission, then I’m just gonna have to ask for your forgiveness.”

You glare at him and left your chin. “Well, I won’t give it to you.”

He stares at you, completely taken aback by your sudden coldness.

“If you do anything to hurt him, or tell Tommy and Maria about this, I will never forgive you,” you threaten, a warm tear slipping down the side of your face as you prepare to shatter both his heart and yours. “I mean it, Joel. Stay away from Luke. And maybe it’s for the best if you just fucking stay away from me too.”

Before Joel can even think about uttering another word, you turn around and walk away.

You break down as soon as you make it home.

Sinking down onto the porch, you pull the collar of your shirt over your mouth and nose in an effort to muffle the sounds of your sobbing. That look of hurt on Joel’s face and in his eyes when you’d told him to stay away from you, it would be burned into your memory forever. It would haunt you for the rest of your damn life.

It wasn’t what you wanted.

This wasn’t what you wanted.

But there is no other choice.

There never has been another choice for you.

The sound of gravel road crunching underneath a pair of old, tattered red low top sneakers fills the silent night air, prompting you to look up.

“Do you hate me?” Ellie questions you softly.

The remorseful expression on her face sends another sharp, stabbing pain through your chest.

“Oh, Ellie. Of course I don’t hate you.” You pat the empty spot beside you on the porch. “Come here.”

Ellie walks over and sits down beside you, pulling her knees up to her chest.

You wrap an arm around her, reassuring her, “I could never hate you, Ellie. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I know I swore to you I would keep my fucking mouth shut, but I had to tell Joel about Luke. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry.” She sniffs, dabbing at her eyes as they fill with frustrated tears.

“It’s okay. I would have done the same thing if I were you.”

“Really? You would have?”

You nod, wiping at your face with your opposite hand. “Absolutely.”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel less like a big pile of dog shit, aren’t you?”

“Mostly no, but partially yes,” you joke dryly in an effort to cheer her up.

Ellie flashes you a small, watery smile. “I’ll fucking take it.”

She leans her head against your shoulder and for a while, the two of you sit there in melancholy silence.

“What’s going to happen with you and Joel?” Ellie finally asks, her voice small.

“I don’t know, Ellie,” you admit quietly. “I really don’t know.”

#fic: ash #fic: a safe haven #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller angst #joel miller x y/n #tw domestic violence #tw: dv

968 notes · View notes