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penvisions · 2 months

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by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 4}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: Worried about Joel's reputation from defending you, you try to get some distance. But the man has a way with words and you end up at his place for dinner. If he's so intent on being friends with you and touching you in ways that speed up your heart, why was everyone else getting cutting boards and kitchen utensils crafted by him?

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, blood, hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, slight angst, hurt and comfort, joel miller's hands need their own warning, two (2} instances of joel miller gently touching reader, intentional flirting, unintentional flirting, talk of pregnancy, talk of birth, talk of labor, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, kissing (!!), yearning, protective joel, protective tommy, marsha gets her own warning now, fluff, this is so unbelievably soft, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: this chapter was brought to you by arcade fire and euphoria of finishing three essays and watching four lecture videos + taking notes for class

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

The air was stifling inside the room, causing sweat to drip down the small of his back and bead up on his temples. The motion of him moving back and forth, back and forth tiring but satisfying. His hands ached, for the grip they held, holding secure to the object of his attention. His focus was striking, eyes dark and lips parted as he worked.

He had been at it for a long while, body humming with the effort he was putting into the movement. A grunt broadcasting the longer stretches of his back, the harder press of his hips. His arms were straining against the short sleeves of his shirt, the fabric tight around his muscles as they worked.

Sweat slick arms coated in sawdust as he painstakingly sanded down the planks of wood he had cut to proper dimensions to rest atop counter tops.

Huffing out, he pulled down the mask he had secured over his face, his breath causing the dust from his ministrations to billow up into the air.

No, he thought as he looked it over. Turning the wood over in his hands to inspect it. The fabric of his work gloves hushing over the smooth surface. No, he didn’t think he liked the idea of a circular board for you. He pictured you stood before a larger piece, sturdier. With little soft feet to hold it in place while you chopped expertly away at some herbs or broke down a chicken before roasting it. No, it had to be perfect. It had to feel like you, it had to be the best he could create. And the shape in his hands wasn’t right.

It needed to be perfect, because to him, you were perfect.

“Did you talk to Marsha about me?”

Joel sputtered, the sip of coffee he had just taken dribbling down his chin and shining in his beard.

“Did she apologize for how she’s been spreadin’ rumors?” You offered the kerchief from your back pocket across the space between your horses. They were moving slow, the morning sunlight shining down a warmth that hadn’t been seen for days. His hand grasped at it, the other trying to prevent the liquid from running down his neck and onto his clothing. Despite his rather comical reaction, he was serious as he looked you over.

“No, she was just…more cordial?” You raised a brow, fist tight over the saddle horn raising and opening as you tried to find the appropriate words to describe the weird encounter.

“She didn’t apologize?” Joel pinned you with a stern look, but you were sure it wasn’t really aimed at you if his tone of voice was anything to go by. He had been fine until you brought up Marsha’s name.

“She didn’t apologize.”

“Did- did you tell her to?”

“Yes. I did. She was rude when I was fixing something for her about a month back.”

“About me?” You guided Lowry to a stop, comforting her as she knickered, thrown off a little at the shift in normal protocol. Joel guided his own horse stop beside yours, watching with concern as you dismounted and tied her off to a nearby tree. You began to pace back and forth, the hush of the fallen leaves under your boots mimicking the anxiety that flowed through your veins. “You-you talked about me.”

“Said she was worried about me going out on patrol with you. So I set her straight.” He said as you watched you, pinpointing the tell tale signs in you that he felt too often himself. You removed your wide brimmed hat to rest it atop the empty saddle,

“Because she doesn’t want me to get you killed.”

“Nothin’ you could do would cause that, you don’t have to worry about me. You shouldn’t listen-“

“I did get someone killed. My best friend.” You admitted, mentally berating yourself for just blurting it out. You had planned to calmly tell him about the patrol that had changed your life, set you up on the path you currently walked, your status of the town outsider. But of course you botched it, mouth running as it so often did around him. Wanting to share things with him, of feeling safe and calm enough to say what came to mind around the man.

“You-what?”

“Five years ago.” You settled down on the ground, back against a thick trunk, head in your hands as you told the man you couldn’t get out of your thoughts the thing that made you an outsider within the settlement. It was rather unfortunate. People made it back alive and well for the most part, but in this case it seemed that the blame for what happened had been put on your shoulders. Almost as if you had done so out of jealousy or ill-intentions. The most common rumor was that you hadn’t liked how quickly and well along Aiden and Millie had once arriving and being accepted and offered refuge inside the gates.

But that wasn’t true. Aiden had only ever been a friend, a close one with the way you had to be in order to survive as long as you two did. He had been the only remaining part of your life from Before. You felt more like his guardian than any potential personal connection. He had been young, bus boy in the restaurant you had worked as a chef in. A ten year age difference between you, compelling you to take him with you when it all broke down. You two had been the only ones to make it out of the restaurant, some of the only ones to escape the round up and corralling of people within your small city.

You had been happy, unbelievably happy, when he had told you of his crush on Millie. Feeling like everything you had done and sacrificed was worth it if he could create a life for himself. For people to twist the situation and narrative to something it wasn’t, never sat well with you and proved to have been the cause of the divide between you and a majority of the residents of Jackson. Marsha taking it upon herself to blame you for the grief of her daughter’s lost love.

“We were on Teton and I didn’t notice we had a tail. They followed us and waited until we had scavenged through the village before they came at us.”

But he didn’t turn away, didn’t guide his horse in a complete one eighty and turn back toward the gates, he didn’t take a deep breath or look disturbed by the news at all. Instead, he took you completely by surprise and -

“Do you want to come to mine for dinner tonight?”

Your head shot up, taking in the way he was still atop his horse. The casual air about him as he regarded you with a warm smile.

“Joel, I just told you I got someone killed and you…invite me over for dinner?”

“Well, yeah. Been meaning too, Ellie wants to-“

“Joel, we shouldn’t be seen together. And you can’t be defending me around town. People are going to think-“

“People aren’t going to think anything, they been saying stuff out of line, and I set them straight. Simple as that.”

“Joel, people don’t like me. But they do like you, I don’t want your association with me to drag that through the mud.”

“I don’t care, you hear me?”

“That’s not the point!”

“Sweetheart, I will defend you until my last breath. You don’t deserve the way they talk about you. You feed them, make sure the meals actually taste good and have nutritional value, you put your admittedly very good looking ass on the line to protect them, and you share the harvest of the trees in your yard.”

“This is serious, Joel.”

“Olive,” He heaved a sigh, chin tucked low before he brought his eyes to yours. They were clear and set, intention behind them as they caught the brittle sunlight. “You are my friend. Friends defend each other and spend time with each other. They care about each other.”

“We are not friends.” You broke eye contact and shoved off from your spot. Feeling foolish for the overly simplified way he described the dynamic you two had. As if it was actually so simple. It was anything but, his reputation on the line the more he talked with you, the more he became your friend within the walls.

His hand caught yours as you walked by, stopping you from getting back to Lowry. He said your real name, stilling you even further with the way it fell from his lips.

“We are friends. I do care. I care a hell ova lot.”

“Not just cause I apparently have a good looking ass?” A weak attempt to lighten the mood, to play off his own easy banter.

“I mean, that might be a part of it. I’m not gonna lie to you.” The lopsided grin he brandished made your heart skip a beat, desire sparkling in your middle. “We’re friends, Olive. I heard the way people reacted when I first showed up, last winter. How they reacted when I showed up again months later with a noticeably more damaged Ellie. I-I know we don’t talk too much about it, but I’ve done some bad things too. Why would I fault you for what you think you’ve done?”

“I did other bad things,” You confessed, watching as he dismounted his own horse, coming to stand in front of you. He didn’t give you the chance to ask him what he was doing or give him one of your looks before he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. Heart tittering, you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your face into his chest. His hands splayed across your lower back, warm and comforting, holding you up while you shared something new and difficult with him. Something you didn’t know you shared with the man.

“Bad, immoral things. To keep us alive before we got here. He was young when it happened, I had ten years on him. Aiden, his name was Aiden. I hadn’t been ready for the responsibility of someone depending on me, especially as everything we knew collapsed around us. But I did it. I did what I had to for us to survive and find a place like Jackson.”

The horses whinnied, sensing the tense emotions flowing from you, but a calming hush from Joel had them minding their own business as they stood tied close together.

“He-he was happy here, it took us so long to find a place that wasn’t just a trap or full of worse people than us. We stayed away from the QZ’s. Too much going on and too little freedom. But here? It was like a breath of fresh air. And he should’ve had a long, happy life the second we walked through those front gates. But instead he got a year of courting a love he never got to marry and was killed because of my oversight and lack of attention.”

“No, sweetheart, that’s not why.” You felt more than heard the deep rumble of his voice, feeling the light scrape of his facial hair along the top of your head as he spoke. “Patrol ain’t easy. It’s long hours on a horse, on foot, on a constant swivel to keep an eye out for any threats to what we have. And we have a lot to be worried about protecting. People tend to forget the reality of the world behind the gates, getting caught up in rumors and gossip and who’s sleeping with who. But you know what’s out here, I know what’s out here. And if they can’t accept the fact that shit happens, that good people die all the time, then that’s on them. That’s not on you. You hear me?”

He held you until your breath evened out, until you pulled away enough to look up at him. Until you leaned up and pressed your lips to the column of his neck. Smiling into the skin there when you felt his hands tighten around you in response.

“Thank you.” You whispered, pulling away slowly, his arms unwinding from around you.

The rest of the route was covered with simple, easy questions.

“What’s your favorite color?”

Blue he had responded, a deep indigo, erring on the side of purple almost. Your was brown, an amber tone that you didn’t say resembled his eyes in the sunlight, but of the way coffee looked before it was mixed with cream and sugar.

“What’s your favorite genre of music?”

Rock, generic and so spot on for him. You had teased him that he probably listened to bands categorized as classic rock and he had barked a laugh so beautiful you hadn’t heard him ask what yours was. Jazz, you had responded. For the sound of strings and wind coalescing in calming crescendo.

Conversation flowed until you were both safe inside the gates, tacking and brushing the horses in the stables. Until he bid you goodbye with a teasing smile that made your heart warm and your stomach flutter.

“You better bring that good looking ass to dinner later, ya hear me?” He said as he walked by the stall where you tended to Lowry. “Wanna see what the personal chef whips up.”

Tingly. You felt so tingly, even if all you had was two tumblers of amber liquid. One while cooking and one with dinner. Ellie had been glued to your side, the teenager eager to learn how to make something that wasn’t breakfast food. She had been attentive when you showed her how to carefully cube the meat to put on some skewers with onion and peppers. Mindful of keeping an eye on the potatoes as they boiled and maybe a little too enthusiastic in mashing them. But the meal was perfect, the sauce you whipped up a delicate balance of spice and tangy.

Bad puns shared at the table and Joel rolling his eyes more times than you could count. His smile so bright as he laughed and sneered in faux disgust at the really terrible ones. It had wound down, Ellie dipping out as clean up began, but neither of you had begrudge her for it. Friends calling on her for an evening in the mess hall, a movie to be played for the town.

Now a third one, on the couch in the living room of the man who surprised you as you spend more and more time with him. A fire crackling in front of you both, Joel down on his knees as he made sure it was fed enough to keep going.

With a huff, he plopped down onto the cushion beside you, causing you to dip into him from your own spot. The liquid splashed around in your glass and a small sound of surprise whooshed out of your chest as you tried to prevent your body from pressing up against him so completely. One of his hands wrapped around the wrist of the one you had placed on his shoulder to prevent it from happening. The other fixing itself on the back of your head to prevent you from butting against him. But he didn’t let go when your gaze snapped up to his face.

Something glinted in them, his breath puffing out in a hearty chuckle that vibrated through you. Your entire right side felt like it was on fire with the contact of him pressed close. The feel of his pants rough on the part of your thigh that had been exposed as the skirt of your dress rustled up at the movement, revealing that the cloth over your legs were thigh highs and not tights.

“Smooth, Miller.”

“Hush,” His lips quirked up in a smirk. His hand moving from your wrist to take the glass from you and set it beside his on the coffee table. His palm splayed on the exposed skin, and he was suddenly leaning even closer, pulling your legs over his lap completely. The fabric riding higher to expose the tops of your thighs to his searching eyes.

“Oh.” Your breath pushed from your chest at the action. Hand reaching to settle on the side of his neck, skin warm and startling heady thoughts to make your head swim. Make your stomach flutter and your pulse hammer. Bad, oh this was so bad. He was so close, he was so warm, so solid. He was practically curled over you, encasing you in his loose embrace. A warning that sounded more like a plea in the form of his name whispered. “Joel…”

“Hush.” He repeated, his nose bumping against yours as he leaned down. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, wondering if he could smell it on yours. His eyes flashed down to your lips, causing your heart to skip a beat, the brown of them almost eclipsed by how wide his pupils were blown. No doubt matching your own.

“W-we shouldn’t.” It wasn’t even an argument, not really. His top lip brushed yours, the feel of his mustache tickling magnifying the tingles cascading over your body. The smell of him, that heady cedar that made you inhale deeply, reveling in how much comfort it settled into your bones.

“Just, lemme in.” He rasped, lips brushing yours chastely. A shuttering breath giving away his own nerves. “Please.”

His need for clear consent, the feel of hands on you, of his body pressed up against you was all so dizzying. Your eyes fluttered shut, body absolutely humming. How could you deny him, the man who settled into your thoughts, made a space in your heart that only he could fill. How could you deny him when he smelled so good, felt so warm, asked so sweetly for the one thing you already wanted to give him.

Before you could even finish shaping your mouth around an ‘okay’, his lips were pressed fully against yours. Gentle, chaste, a tame thing.

You pulled back, breathing hard only after a few seconds, eyes flying open. His own were searching yours, his breath fanning over your face. Ensuring that you were okay, that you were still okay with it, with him. With this. A friendship shifting into unknown territory.

His fingers tangled in your hair, scrunching it and pulling it in just the right way to cause a groan to travel up your chest. Pleasure bolted through you, pushing you to reach out and wrap your hands around his neck, forward and into him. Lips crushing against his in deeper kiss as you shifted your legs in his lap, moving them to rest your knees on either side of his thick thighs. His hands gripped your waist, helping to pull you closer.

He moaned out as you settled over his lap, chest to chest, allowing for you to lick into his mouth. Gentle and careful giving way to desperate and urgent as you moved against each other with intention. You could feel the swell of him hard beneath you and you shifted your hips to press down, flush against him everywhere. Swallowing the groan he let out at the action, one of his hands moving underneath the skirt of your dress to-

“JOEL!”

“Fuck,” He growled, hands tightening on you as the sound of his name on a loud shout echoed down the dark street had you pulling away. Fast steps rushing toward the front of his house. The only warning before his front door slammed open, hitting the wall of the entry way. He captured your lips in bruising kiss as his name was shouted again inside the home.

Sighing, you rested your forehead against his, sharing air with him as he closed his eyes. His hands on you clenching as the moment effectively shattered.

Tommy’s form appearing in the doorway to the living room.

“Joel, it’s Maria. The baby- she, the baby’s co- oh!”

You knew how it looked, you pushing off from the older man, him sunken into the couch, both of you trying to catch your breath. The tension in the air, the fire crackling happily in the fireplace, the twin glasses of whisky on the coffee table. The way the skirt of your dress was wrinkled and on of your thigh highs shoved down by your ankle. Joel’s clothing no better, your hands having begun to unbutton the flannel donned. The obvious bulge he moved a hand over to try and hide from view.

“D-don’t.” You warned lightly, leaning down to pull the fabric back up your leg. Moving to put as much distance between you and the man you had just been all over like a teenager. Joel reached for you, aware of the watching gaze of his stunned brother. But you swerved, not allowing his fingers to graze you and shoved past Tommy.

“Olive-“ Joel tried to catch your eyes but you wouldn’t look at him, heart in your throat and stomach twisted up in knots. Tingly, you were still so tingly.

“I-I-I’ll see y’all….later. Tell Maria she can call on me if she needs anything!” And then you were shoving your feet into the unlaced boots, shrugging your coat on and taking off out the still open door into the cool night. Your heart didn’t stop racing even as you crossed the threshold into your own home a few streets over or when you stepped into a scalding shower. Or when your back rested against the cold tiles of the stall and you slid down to sit in the tub underneath the stream.

You just kissed Joel Miller.

It was supposed to be a good thing, you had wanted to, it had been all you could think about, the desire in the back of your mind all the time. But then why did you feel like you just made a huge mistake?

Tommy had come by a few days later, explaining that you would need to take his place on the longer routes Joel was assigned to. Sparse on the roster with so many to rotate the patrols with. Maria, now stable and back at home. A new baby boy to tend to and shower with love. His attention and focus needed here within the gates, not outside of them. His little brother’s worry and anticipation pulling a smile from him.

He had sat up with him far too late, assuring him that he was more than capable, that he was ready, that he would do just fine. The excited chatter had turned somber, memories of time so similar permeating the air and quieting the two men.

“I see you two, when you take off for patrol and when you come back. It’s the same when you’re with Ellie.” Tommy’s voice was low, nearly whispering as he confessed. “It’s the closest I’ve seen you look alive, look like you used to. Before.”

“She makes me feel like I’m alive.”

“She can pull a laugh outta me easy as can be, even if I’m a little pissed off with her.”

“Joel.” Incredulous, almost berating in tone, just his name. Nothing prefacing or following it and it irked him. To hear it spoken in such a manner by his younger brother.

“No, Tommy, no, don't just say my name like that. like it's a whole goddamn conversation that I should know about.”

“Just…be careful, brother. She doesn’t have a lot and I’ve noticed a difference in her since you rolled in.”

Joel recalled the way you had felt in his arms, pressed against him. And then how you had practically fled the scene, how you hadn’t been able to look at him afterwards. Careful, he agreed quietly. He had to be careful, for both your sakes.

Patrols were easy, neither of you mentioned the kiss. Or how one had turned into a handful, how gentle had turned into desperate. Going about the responsibility of ensuring the safter of the settlement like normal. Upon returning one day, Tommy had been waiting at the gates, almost buzzing with excitement as he prompted you both to take a piece of paper from jar. Citing that it was for the annual gift exchange of the holiday season fast approaching.

He felt bad for the relief he had felt when your name wasn’t the one scribbled onto his folded scrap of paper. The three planks of wood he managed to cut from the trunk drying out on his back porch. He checked on them each day before bed, inspecting them to ensure they were safe. One had already been lost to a disease that had rotted in the crack of the tree, seeping into that part of the trunk. He had just sat there with a tumbler of whiskey, lamenting the loss of it. The others wouldn’t be ready for months, he realized, as the holidays loomed on the horizon.

Just like he was doing now, thinking of the planks of wood on the other side of his house. It was one of the few moments he didn’t have anything pressing calling his attention so early, allowing him to take a moment to enjoy his coffee in the crisp air. The leaves were a myriad of colors, scattered along the streets and leaving the trees bare. He idly wondered if this was your favorite time of the year. And if it wasn’t, then what was?

“I know you got me.”

Joel startled where he sat on his front porch, coffee spilling from the mug he had a hand around resting on his knee. The soft voice breaking his reverie, his thoughts of you. But when he focused and looked up, it was Marsha who stood on the top step of his porch. Watching him with an entertained smile, eyes taking him in like she tended to do. He wasn’t blind, he knew the way she watched him. That she harbored a small liking to him, but he had never even thought to give into it. Even if it weren’t for the way she treated you and spread ill-notions of you around town, she wouldn’t be his type.

She had been here ever since the start, been here when the walls first went up and the town of Jackson was established. And he wished he didn’t feel a twinge of jealously and ire for it. But he was only human, someone who had to fight and claw and lose themselves in what the world became. Wishing it had all ended, would end when he lost more and more each day. Pieces of his heart shattering and pieces of his humanity ripped from him. But Marsha, her family, they hadn’t experienced that. And it allowed them to feel like it was completely normal to partake in gossip and petty vendettas.

He realized that being behind the walls allowed him to appreciate more what people endured outside of them. It wasn’t the woman’s fault she hadn’t had to fight for her life, that she hadn’t lost parts of herself to the world as it fell apart and tried to turn anything it could into a twisted version of its original self. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t have to figure out who she was after it all. How to life with herself and the things the world drove her to do.

No, that was him. It was Tommy. It was Ellie. It was you. And she would never understand.

“I was thinking about how you scolded me, and while that was…intense.” The tips of her ears tinged pink, telling him more than her words what she had thought of the interaction. Focused on how his attention had been on her and not on the words he had meant with every fiber of his being. The need to protect you, to stand up for you when you wouldn’t do so overwhelming him in that moment.

“I did try but she…my daughter doesn’t agree…I might need a little more incentive.”

“Ma’am, I’m not interested in playing games.” Joel made to stand up and seek shelter inside, unwilling to take part in whatever the woman was up to.

“It’s not a game, Joel. I just…she did a lot of damage. It’s going to take more than one conversation to settle five years’ worth of tension.” She tried to argue, to explain. But he wasn’t having any of it, too tired for the circles she was bound to lead the conversation.

“You didn’t even apologize, she said you were cordial with her.”

“I…I know. But listen to me, if you agree to help me build shelves in the living room as my gift, I’ll work on shifting the way people talk about her. I’ll intervene or cut them off if they start up about her. I swear to you.” He did stand at that moment, his coffee gone cold and his morning taking a turn for the worst.

“You apologize to her and I’ll think about it. She’s a good girl, she doesn’t deserve the crap y’all put her through.” Joel set her with a look, hoping she understood how serious he was about all this. Because you truly didn’t deserve the status of outsider that you wouldn’t toss around but inevitably felt. You were good, to him, to the town, to Ellie, even to the people who talked behind your back. “You better make sure that whoever drew her name gets her somethin’, you hear me? Apologize to her, I’ll be by to get the dimensions tomorrow.”

Joel turned his back on the woman, not bothering to look over at her to ensure she agreed to his terms before he was safely back in his home. Sighing, he dumped the coffee into the sink and moved into his workspace, anxious and needing to relieve it until he had to begin crossing things off his list.

It’s slow, the way the crafted planks of wood crop up around the settlement. From the first one in Tommy’s kitchen to the one in the creators own. To the ones fawned over in each of the older women’s homes, a rather prominent subject to be heard over the hours spent tending the gardens. Many hands busy preening, clipping, removing, sifting the soil while many mouths form praise around his name: Joel Miller.

Autumn is pivotal time to cleanse the gardens, tend to the waning perennials, prepare and protect the soil to ensure its intact for next years plantings. It’s nearing the end of the season, a dense chill settling over the land and sticking. Much like the frost you can see glittering in the early mornings when you leave for patrol or to help in the mess hall. Hearty, nutritional stews and stocks your specialty provided in the times when fresh isn’t available. But you didn’t mind, it kept you busy.

But you could do without the dotting words of so many for a man who had become something complicated in your life. A kiss, a lapse of judgement that had made it so.

While Joel was ever the same out on patrol, with the sharing of coffee and trading of questions, it was beginning to shift within the town. You hadn’t been hurt before when his attention was pulled before he noticed you, but now having had some of it to yourself you begrudgingly acknowledged that it was beginning to.

Wanting to desperately to be folded into the community, into the social circles that were prevalent all around. And you didn’t like how much you wanted that, knowing it would never be so.

Marsha was hovering close, sitting next to him in meetings and in the mess hall when they both happened to be there. And it irked you, because you weren’t sure what was going on between them. It certainly wasn’t any of your business, but the way that he seemed to always be close to her despite his words of having talked to her about being nicer to you settled heavy in your gut. It was sticky and uncomfortable, to carry about the realization that perhaps…perhaps she had listened to him because they were together.

But just like the worn fabric of his back pockets, it was none of your business.

Neither of you asked about personal stuff like relationships or the nonexistent sex lives you led. Or thought you both led, but the difference in ages revealed a subject off limits apparently. Which was alright, Joel did have a decade or so on you. His beautiful curls a steel gray, while you were just beginning to find streaks of silver in your own hair, more prominent when it was pulled up and away from your face. But you had wanted to know if they were together. If you were being too out of line with your thoughts of the man, of how you felt like you could talk to him, ask him questions, like he was still yours while out on patrol.

And you would take what he would give you, even if it meant you were both acting like the kiss had never happened.

It was felt even more so, the isolation and lack of a personal life as the holidays loomed near. Joel busy now more than ever, that damned little spiral notebook with its never-ending list. Tommy and Maria deep in the life of being parents to a newborn. Even Ellie was smitten with her friends, laughing more and seeming to enjoy herself as she finally began to find her circle. The reality of having pulled Joel’s name for the secret gift exchange burning a hole in your back pocket.

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