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[wintrcaptn]

Apples & Butterflies pt 9

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : your roommate invites you to spend winter break with her and her family in Texas…but things heat up between you and her dad…Joel miller. SLOW BURN!

Apples & Butterflies master list

A/N : this is short because next chapter is gonna be just Joel and reader and yeahhhh lol

Three days since Joel took my hand and smiled that crooked smile. Three days since he made me laugh like nothing was wrong. Since the tension broke just enough to feel like maybe—maybe—it was going to be okay between us.

And in those three days, everything got harder.

Sarah had taken it upon herself to show me everything. The town, the bakery with the cinnamon rolls the size of my face, the old movie theater with vintage red velvet seats, the lake she swore came alive in the summer. She wanted me to fall in love with this place the way she had.

And honestly? I kind of did.

Mason and Chris had spent the last few nights out with us, grabbing food, going dancing, sneaking shots in dive bars where the locals played pool like their lives depended on it.

Chris was too good. Too sweet. Too patient. He said things like "Can I walk you to the door?" and "You look really happy tonight," like he actually meant it. Like he saw me.

And sometimes... I let myself believe I saw him too.

But every night, no matter how fun, no matter how safe it felt to be wrapped in Chris' warmth, I'd walk through that front door, lock eyes with Joel across the room...and feel like a damn fool.

Because everything I thought I felt for Chris would vanish the second I saw him.

Joel was quiet. Present. Always there. And since that night, he'd shifted, just a little. Enough to notice.

He smiled more. He made jokes, actually funny ones. He helped Maria cook dinner and teased Sarah like he was trying to make up for lost time. He even took the two of us around town when we needed rides, grumbling about how "college kids don't know how to plan ahead," but always handing me the aux cord without being asked.

And sometimes... when it was just him and me—those in-between moments, picking up groceries or watching a movie, or cooking in the kitchen...he'd talk. He was slowly opening up to me more and more. His eyes would linger, his lips would curve more into a smile and he'd remember all the small details I said to him. One day he came home with boba tea all because I said I wanted to try it.

It was in those moments that I knew I was screwed.

And today?

Today was making everything worse.

We were in town shopping for the Christmas ball—Maria, Sarah, and I hopping between boutiques while Joel and Tommy trailed behind like well-trained support dogs.

We were in the third store of the day. Racks of sequined dresses and silky fabrics surrounded us, and I stood in front of a three-way mirror holding up a deep green dress to my chest while Sarah judged me from behind.

"No," Sarah said, crossing her arms. "Too old-lady. You look like someone's hot art teacher."

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

"Depends," Maria chimed in, emerging from a dressing room in a floor-length navy number. "Are you trying to seduce someone's father?"

My mouth opened. Closed. My face went up in flames.

Sarah cackled. "Maria!"

Maria just grinned. "What? It's a valid question."

"I—" I laughed, flustered. "Absolutely not."

Maria raised one eyebrow and went back into the dressing room without another word, but the glint in her eye told me she didn't buy a damn thing I just said.

Sarah nudged me with her elbow, her eyes narrowed. "What was that about?"

"Who knows..."

"Oh my god," she gasped, like she'd just cracked a code. "Is this about Chris?"

I sighed. "Why does everything have to be about a guy?"

"Because this is a ball, and we're playing dress-up like a Jane Austen novel, and you've had a mysterious blush on your face since Tuesday," she said matter-of-factly. "Come on. Spill."

I turned toward the mirror, biting the inside of my cheek. "He's nice."

"That's the line you use when you don't want to admit he's hot."

"He is hot," I admitted, pulling my hair up and checking my reflection again. "But... I don't know. He's almost too good. Like rom-com good. Like a man written by a woman."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "And that's a bad thing because...?"

"Because it feels like a trap," I said. "Because I'm waiting to feel something and I'm not sure it's enough."

Sarah crossed her arms. "Y/N. You like him."

"I do."

"But?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I looked over her shoulder.

Joel was standing just outside the boutique window with Tommy, both of them carrying bags like they'd drawn the short straw in some unspoken game. Tommy was talking, animated and casual. But Joel... he was looking right at me.

Our eyes met.

Held.

His expression didn't change.

But mine did.

I felt heat rush into my cheeks. I turned back toward the rack of dresses, pretending to be fascinated by a silver one I had no intention of trying on.

"Do you want to try that green one?" Sarah asked, oblivious.

I shook my head. "No. Let's find something else."

After a while of looking through racks of dresses I finally found it.

I wasn't expecting to find the dress. I thought I'd just try on something cute, something safe, and call it a day. Let Sarah take the spotlight in her glittery silver number, and let Maria fuss over her shoes.

But then I saw it—deep burgundy, fitted bodice with lace that kissed every curve. The satin flowed down like spilled wine, rich and soft and bold. It wasn't safe. It was daring.

I didn't even hesitate.

In the dressing room, I slipped into it slowly. The fabric was cool against my skin, hugging tight through the waist, over my hips, before falling into a soft, elegant drape that brushed the floor. A slit teased up one thigh, edged in that same deep lace, floral and romantic.

I turned toward the mirror and stopped breathing.

Whoa. I looked... different. Confident. More alive.

This wasn't a dress you wore to disappear. This was the kind of dress that made people stop and stare. The kind of dress that made someone's jaw clench and their eyes darken with something they didn't want to admit.

I opened the curtain slowly.

Sarah gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Holy shit."

Maria clapped her hands together, grinning from ear to ear. "That's the one."

I stepped out, trying to hide how self-conscious I felt with all that attention.

"Are you sure it's not... too much?" I murmured, smoothing the fabric over my hips.

"Too much? Girl, you look like a goddamn dream," Sarah said. She circled around me, adjusting one of the shoulder straps. "Chris is going to lose it when he sees you in this."

Maria hummed in agreement. "It's elegant. Grown. Sophisticated. But that color...? You'll own the room."

I smiled. Thanked them. Let them gush.

But as Sarah kept talking about accessories and Maria offered to buy the dress herself because "every woman needs a knockout moment," my eyes drifted out the window.

Joel was still outside, quiet as ever, arms crossed over his chest, head slightly down; but his gaze lifted.

And he looked right at me.

The world slowed for a second. My heart jumped, fluttered, then crashed into my ribs like it was trying to break free.

I didn't know what he could see through the glass—maybe just the color, the silhouette, maybe nothing at all. But he was watching. Not blinking. Not pretending. Not hiding it this time.

Chris might've been sweet. He might say all the right things.

But it wasn't his eyes I wanted to catch across the room.

It was his.

Joel.

Always Joel.

Maria walked over and adjusted the bodice gently. "You alright, sweetheart? You've gone quiet."

I blinked and forced a small smile. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

Sarah threw an arm around my shoulders. "I'm telling you right now, Chris won't be able to take his eyes off you. This dress is illegal."

I laughed softly, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

I hope it's not Chris who can't look away, I thought.

But I didn't say it.

Because I couldn't.

Not yet.

———————

The sky had already dimmed into a soft indigo by the time we left the boutique, arms full of shopping bags and still riding the high from finding the dress. The town around us had transformed with the setting sun, every streetlamp wrapped in garlands and twinkle lights, every storefront glowing with red and gold. It looked like someone had bottled up Christmas and poured it over the whole block.

We walked to the restaurant Tommy insisted we eat at. "You haven't lived," he said, "until you've had the brisket chili at Flannery's."

Joel just grunted his approval beside him. Which, apparently, was his version of a glowing review.

Flannery's sat on the edge of the town square. Rustic, wood-paneled, with a patio that wrapped around the side, strung with soft bulbs and warmed by tall standing heaters. From our table, we had a perfect view of the square where kids in beanies were still running around a tree twice their height, and couples clutched hot cocoa like it was sacred.

We sat crowded around a heavy wooden table, the girls on one side, the guys on the other. Joel sat across from me, his expression unreadable, but every so often, I'd catch his eyes on me. And I couldn't tell if it was my imagination, or if he was still thinking about me like I thought of him.

"I'm starving," Sarah moaned, scanning the menu. "I could eat an entire cow."

"I thought you were trying to be vegetarian?" Maria teased.

"Yeah, for like twelve hours. That ended when Tommy made bacon."

"You're welcome," Tommy said proudly.

Once we'd all ordered, the conversation turned casual—comforting. The kind of easy family rhythm I'd never really had growing up. Stories. Light teasing. A few rounds of arguing about who had the worst holiday hangover last year.

Then Maria's voice cut through, soft and curious. "So, Sarah, any more thoughts on after graduation?"

I looked at Sarah. We hadn't talked about it much lately. Every time I brought it up, she brushed it off with a shrug and a "We've got time."

Sarah set down her water and leaned back in her seat, her eyes drifting to the lights outside. "Honestly?" she said. "I want to come back home."

Joel's eyes lifted.

Tommy paused mid-bite.

Sarah looked at them and smiled. "I love California. I do. But nothing beats this. My people are here. The ones who matter most. I miss the air. I miss Dad's grumpy rants and Maria's biscuits and everything else."

Joel blinked slowly, lips twitching at the corner, like he was trying not to show how much that hit him.

Tommy clinked his glass against hers. "No place like home."

Maria smiled, resting her chin on her hand. "And what about you, Y/N? What's next for you?"

My stomach tightened.

Everyone was looking at me now.

For years, I had a plan. California was the plan. Graduate, get a job in publishing, move into a small apartment in a city that never stopped buzzing. Build something on my own. Be busy enough not to feel what I'd lost.

Now I knew what it felt like to come home and smell something cooking. To be wrapped in a blanket someone else folded for you. To sit at a table and have someone ask how your day was and mean it.

I hadn't felt that kind of safety since my mom died.

I swallowed hard.

There was a quiet beat. Not awkward. Just... still.

Joel shifted in his seat. "Tommy. You still need me on site for that office building Tuesday?"

Tommy blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah. We're behind since Tyler took off for Florida."

"Guess I'm on demo duty, then," Joel muttered.

He didn't look at me.

But he felt the shift in the air. And just like that, he'd offered me an out. A new conversation. An escape.

I glanced up, met his eyes for half a heartbeat.

Thank you, I mouthed.

He nodded once.

"I still don't understand how y'all do construction in December," Maria said, breaking the tension with a sip of her wine. "Isn't everything cold and miserable?"

"It builds character," Tommy said.

Joel scoffed. "It keeps the lights on."

Everyone laughed until Maria gave Joel a sideways look and said, "Speaking of building things... your love life still under construction?"

Joel's eyes narrowed. "Don't start."

Maria raised her eyebrows. "What? Tessa from the hospital, is divorced now. She makes killer peach cobbler and hasn't murdered a man in years."

"She also yells when she talks," Joel muttered. "Not my type."

"Oh come on," Sarah said. "You haven't dated anyone in forever. Don't you want someone?"

Joel looked vaguely horrified. "Can we not do this here?"

Maria ignored him entirely. "She's still got that cute little house out by the orchard."

"She also thinks crystals fix migraines."

"She's spiritual, Joel."

"She's loud."

I couldn't laugh.

I couldn't breathe.

There it was. The thought. Him with someone else. Someone his age. Someone normal.

Someone he could kiss in public and not be ashamed of. Someone Sarah and Maria could talk about without tiptoeing. Someone he could come home to without looking over his shoulder.

My breath hitched in my throat. I forced myself to take a sip of water, but it didn't help. My skin felt too tight. My stomach too aware of itself. It was stupid. Irrational. It hurt.

Across the table, Joel looked at me.

It was barely a second.

But he saw it.

Tommy nudged his brother's arm with a grin. "Come on. You ain't getting any younger."

Joel didn't even blink. He raised his hand, flagged down the server. "Check, please."

Everyone laughed.

Except me.

I forced a tight smile and stared down at the table like it was suddenly very interesting.

Because I couldn't look at him.

Because if I did, I might not be able to hide what I was feeling anymore.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples & Butterflies pt 9

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : your roommate invites you to spend winter break with her and her family in Texas…but things heat up between you and her dad…Joel miller. SLOW BURN!

Apples & Butterflies master list

A/N : this is short because next chapter is gonna be just Joel and reader and yeahhhh lol

Three days since Joel took my hand and smiled that crooked smile. Three days since he made me laugh like nothing was wrong. Since the tension broke just enough to feel like maybe—maybe—it was going to be okay between us.

And in those three days, everything got harder.

Sarah had taken it upon herself to show me everything. The town, the bakery with the cinnamon rolls the size of my face, the old movie theater with vintage red velvet seats, the lake she swore came alive in the summer. She wanted me to fall in love with this place the way she had.

And honestly? I kind of did.

Mason and Chris had spent the last few nights out with us, grabbing food, going dancing, sneaking shots in dive bars where the locals played pool like their lives depended on it.

Chris was too good. Too sweet. Too patient. He said things like "Can I walk you to the door?" and "You look really happy tonight," like he actually meant it. Like he saw me.

And sometimes... I let myself believe I saw him too.

But every night, no matter how fun, no matter how safe it felt to be wrapped in Chris' warmth, I'd walk through that front door, lock eyes with Joel across the room...and feel like a damn fool.

Because everything I thought I felt for Chris would vanish the second I saw him.

Joel was quiet. Present. Always there. And since that night, he'd shifted, just a little. Enough to notice.

He smiled more. He made jokes, actually funny ones. He helped Maria cook dinner and teased Sarah like he was trying to make up for lost time. He even took the two of us around town when we needed rides, grumbling about how "college kids don't know how to plan ahead," but always handing me the aux cord without being asked.

And sometimes... when it was just him and me—those in-between moments, picking up groceries or watching a movie, or cooking in the kitchen...he'd talk. He was slowly opening up to me more and more. His eyes would linger, his lips would curve more into a smile and he'd remember all the small details I said to him. One day he came home with boba tea all because I said I wanted to try it.

It was in those moments that I knew I was screwed.

And today?

Today was making everything worse.

We were in town shopping for the Christmas ball—Maria, Sarah, and I hopping between boutiques while Joel and Tommy trailed behind like well-trained support dogs.

We were in the third store of the day. Racks of sequined dresses and silky fabrics surrounded us, and I stood in front of a three-way mirror holding up a deep green dress to my chest while Sarah judged me from behind.

"No," Sarah said, crossing her arms. "Too old-lady. You look like someone's hot art teacher."

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.

"Depends," Maria chimed in, emerging from a dressing room in a floor-length navy number. "Are you trying to seduce someone's father?"

My mouth opened. Closed. My face went up in flames.

Sarah cackled. "Maria!"

Maria just grinned. "What? It's a valid question."

"I—" I laughed, flustered. "Absolutely not."

Maria raised one eyebrow and went back into the dressing room without another word, but the glint in her eye told me she didn't buy a damn thing I just said.

Sarah nudged me with her elbow, her eyes narrowed. "What was that about?"

"Who knows..."

"Oh my god," she gasped, like she'd just cracked a code. "Is this about Chris?"

I sighed. "Why does everything have to be about a guy?"

"Because this is a ball, and we're playing dress-up like a Jane Austen novel, and you've had a mysterious blush on your face since Tuesday," she said matter-of-factly. "Come on. Spill."

I turned toward the mirror, biting the inside of my cheek. "He's nice."

"That's the line you use when you don't want to admit he's hot."

"He is hot," I admitted, pulling my hair up and checking my reflection again. "But... I don't know. He's almost too good. Like rom-com good. Like a man written by a woman."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. "And that's a bad thing because...?"

"Because it feels like a trap," I said. "Because I'm waiting to feel something and I'm not sure it's enough."

Sarah crossed her arms. "Y/N. You like him."

"I do."

"But?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I looked over her shoulder.

Joel was standing just outside the boutique window with Tommy, both of them carrying bags like they'd drawn the short straw in some unspoken game. Tommy was talking, animated and casual. But Joel... he was looking right at me.

Our eyes met.

Held.

His expression didn't change.

But mine did.

I felt heat rush into my cheeks. I turned back toward the rack of dresses, pretending to be fascinated by a silver one I had no intention of trying on.

"Do you want to try that green one?" Sarah asked, oblivious.

I shook my head. "No. Let's find something else."

After a while of looking through racks of dresses I finally found it.

I wasn't expecting to find the dress. I thought I'd just try on something cute, something safe, and call it a day. Let Sarah take the spotlight in her glittery silver number, and let Maria fuss over her shoes.

But then I saw it—deep burgundy, fitted bodice with lace that kissed every curve. The satin flowed down like spilled wine, rich and soft and bold. It wasn't safe. It was daring.

I didn't even hesitate.

In the dressing room, I slipped into it slowly. The fabric was cool against my skin, hugging tight through the waist, over my hips, before falling into a soft, elegant drape that brushed the floor. A slit teased up one thigh, edged in that same deep lace, floral and romantic.

I turned toward the mirror and stopped breathing.

Whoa. I looked... different. Confident. More alive.

This wasn't a dress you wore to disappear. This was the kind of dress that made people stop and stare. The kind of dress that made someone's jaw clench and their eyes darken with something they didn't want to admit.

I opened the curtain slowly.

Sarah gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Holy shit."

Maria clapped her hands together, grinning from ear to ear. "That's the one."

I stepped out, trying to hide how self-conscious I felt with all that attention.

"Are you sure it's not... too much?" I murmured, smoothing the fabric over my hips.

"Too much? Girl, you look like a goddamn dream," Sarah said. She circled around me, adjusting one of the shoulder straps. "Chris is going to lose it when he sees you in this."

Maria hummed in agreement. "It's elegant. Grown. Sophisticated. But that color...? You'll own the room."

I smiled. Thanked them. Let them gush.

But as Sarah kept talking about accessories and Maria offered to buy the dress herself because "every woman needs a knockout moment," my eyes drifted out the window.

Joel was still outside, quiet as ever, arms crossed over his chest, head slightly down; but his gaze lifted.

And he looked right at me.

The world slowed for a second. My heart jumped, fluttered, then crashed into my ribs like it was trying to break free.

I didn't know what he could see through the glass—maybe just the color, the silhouette, maybe nothing at all. But he was watching. Not blinking. Not pretending. Not hiding it this time.

Chris might've been sweet. He might say all the right things.

But it wasn't his eyes I wanted to catch across the room.

It was his.

Joel.

Always Joel.

Maria walked over and adjusted the bodice gently. "You alright, sweetheart? You've gone quiet."

I blinked and forced a small smile. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

Sarah threw an arm around my shoulders. "I'm telling you right now, Chris won't be able to take his eyes off you. This dress is illegal."

I laughed softly, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear.

I hope it's not Chris who can't look away, I thought.

But I didn't say it.

Because I couldn't.

Not yet.

———————

The sky had already dimmed into a soft indigo by the time we left the boutique, arms full of shopping bags and still riding the high from finding the dress. The town around us had transformed with the setting sun, every streetlamp wrapped in garlands and twinkle lights, every storefront glowing with red and gold. It looked like someone had bottled up Christmas and poured it over the whole block.

We walked to the restaurant Tommy insisted we eat at. "You haven't lived," he said, "until you've had the brisket chili at Flannery's."

Joel just grunted his approval beside him. Which, apparently, was his version of a glowing review.

Flannery's sat on the edge of the town square. Rustic, wood-paneled, with a patio that wrapped around the side, strung with soft bulbs and warmed by tall standing heaters. From our table, we had a perfect view of the square where kids in beanies were still running around a tree twice their height, and couples clutched hot cocoa like it was sacred.

We sat crowded around a heavy wooden table, the girls on one side, the guys on the other. Joel sat across from me, his expression unreadable, but every so often, I'd catch his eyes on me. And I couldn't tell if it was my imagination, or if he was still thinking about me like I thought of him.

"I'm starving," Sarah moaned, scanning the menu. "I could eat an entire cow."

"I thought you were trying to be vegetarian?" Maria teased.

"Yeah, for like twelve hours. That ended when Tommy made bacon."

"You're welcome," Tommy said proudly.

Once we'd all ordered, the conversation turned casual—comforting. The kind of easy family rhythm I'd never really had growing up. Stories. Light teasing. A few rounds of arguing about who had the worst holiday hangover last year.

Then Maria's voice cut through, soft and curious. "So, Sarah, any more thoughts on after graduation?"

I looked at Sarah. We hadn't talked about it much lately. Every time I brought it up, she brushed it off with a shrug and a "We've got time."

Sarah set down her water and leaned back in her seat, her eyes drifting to the lights outside. "Honestly?" she said. "I want to come back home."

Joel's eyes lifted.

Tommy paused mid-bite.

Sarah looked at them and smiled. "I love California. I do. But nothing beats this. My people are here. The ones who matter most. I miss the air. I miss Dad's grumpy rants and Maria's biscuits and everything else."

Joel blinked slowly, lips twitching at the corner, like he was trying not to show how much that hit him.

Tommy clinked his glass against hers. "No place like home."

Maria smiled, resting her chin on her hand. "And what about you, Y/N? What's next for you?"

My stomach tightened.

Everyone was looking at me now.

For years, I had a plan. California was the plan. Graduate, get a job in publishing, move into a small apartment in a city that never stopped buzzing. Build something on my own. Be busy enough not to feel what I'd lost.

Now I knew what it felt like to come home and smell something cooking. To be wrapped in a blanket someone else folded for you. To sit at a table and have someone ask how your day was and mean it.

I hadn't felt that kind of safety since my mom died.

I swallowed hard.

There was a quiet beat. Not awkward. Just... still.

Joel shifted in his seat. "Tommy. You still need me on site for that office building Tuesday?"

Tommy blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah. We're behind since Tyler took off for Florida."

"Guess I'm on demo duty, then," Joel muttered.

He didn't look at me.

But he felt the shift in the air. And just like that, he'd offered me an out. A new conversation. An escape.

I glanced up, met his eyes for half a heartbeat.

Thank you, I mouthed.

He nodded once.

"I still don't understand how y'all do construction in December," Maria said, breaking the tension with a sip of her wine. "Isn't everything cold and miserable?"

"It builds character," Tommy said.

Joel scoffed. "It keeps the lights on."

Everyone laughed until Maria gave Joel a sideways look and said, "Speaking of building things... your love life still under construction?"

Joel's eyes narrowed. "Don't start."

Maria raised her eyebrows. "What? Tessa from the hospital, is divorced now. She makes killer peach cobbler and hasn't murdered a man in years."

"She also yells when she talks," Joel muttered. "Not my type."

"Oh come on," Sarah said. "You haven't dated anyone in forever. Don't you want someone?"

Joel looked vaguely horrified. "Can we not do this here?"

Maria ignored him entirely. "She's still got that cute little house out by the orchard."

"She also thinks crystals fix migraines."

"She's spiritual, Joel."

"She's loud."

I couldn't laugh.

I couldn't breathe.

There it was. The thought. Him with someone else. Someone his age. Someone normal.

Someone he could kiss in public and not be ashamed of. Someone Sarah and Maria could talk about without tiptoeing. Someone he could come home to without looking over his shoulder.

My breath hitched in my throat. I forced myself to take a sip of water, but it didn't help. My skin felt too tight. My stomach too aware of itself. It was stupid. Irrational. It hurt.

Across the table, Joel looked at me.

It was barely a second.

But he saw it.

Tommy nudged his brother's arm with a grin. "Come on. You ain't getting any younger."

Joel didn't even blink. He raised his hand, flagged down the server. "Check, please."

Everyone laughed.

Except me.

I forced a tight smile and stared down at the table like it was suddenly very interesting.

Because I couldn't look at him.

Because if I did, I might not be able to hide what I was feeling anymore.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples & Butterflies pt. 8

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : your roommate invites you to spend winter break with her and her family in Texas…but things heat up between you and her dad…Joel miller. SLOW BURN!

Apples&Butterflies masterlist

A/N : so I’m in the process of going back to change things up in the book and add more to the story. And honestly, I’m obsessing over it lol. This is nothing compared to what I have added and changed lol part of me wants to go back and delete all the parts and add in the new ones 😭

The second Joel walked out of the kitchen, it felt like the air dropped ten degrees. Chills covered me completely.

I pressed my palms against the counter and let out a shaky breath. My heart was hammering in my chest, like it didn't know what to do with itself, as if it had been thrown into some kind of free fall and still hadn't landed.

"I can't stop lookin' at you."

He'd said it like it slipped. Like it got out before he could cage it. Then he looked at me like he hated himself for it. And then he was gone.

I stood there frozen, staring at the empty doorway like he might come back. But of course he didn't. Joel didn't make mistakes twice. Not the kind that involved me, anyway.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, cold against my palm, and headed back to the living room; mind racing, chest tight.

The room buzzed with the sound of the game, shouting and laughing, the occasional cheer or groan. I spotted him immediately. Sitting  in his recliner, completely still, eyes on the screen but his jaw tight. Set like stone. Like he was forcing himself not to look at me.

Fine.

Two can play that game.

I slid down next to Chris on the couch, trying to be casual. Trying to make it feel natural. I felt Joel's eyes on me, just for a second, like heat against my skin.

I turned to him and smiled. "Wanna go outside? Get some fresh air?"

He blinked at me, surprised, then smiled back. "Yeah. Sure."

We stepped out onto the back porch, the screen door creaking behind us. The air wasn't cold exactly, but it was crisp. Sharp in the lungs. The kind of chill that hinted at Christmas lights and quiet mornings. There was no snow, just a faint layer of frost across the patio railing and patches of stiff grass crunching under our shoes.

Chris rubbed his hands together with a breathy laugh. "Man this weather feels great."

I tugged my sleeves down over my hands. "Yeah it took me by surprise."

He laughed, and I liked the way it sounded—unforced, clean. "You from around here?"

"Nope. I'm a Cali girl." I said, leaning against the wooden railing. "I'm just tagging along Sarah's winter break. You?"

He nodded. "Born in Houston. Grew up there, went to school in New York, and then work brought me back here."

"Sorry but, how did you get into Physical Therapy?"

"I used to play until I tore my ACL junior year."

I looked over at him, surprised. "Football? What position?"

"Wide receiver. I was fast, but not fast enough to outrun my knee exploding mid-play." He said, with a little smirk. Almost like he was trying to play it off as no big deal.

"Ouch," I winced. "That sounds horrifying."

"Oh, it sucked. But recovery was how I found PT. I had this therapist who worked with me every single day like my career still mattered even when it didn't. Made me want to be that for someone else."

His response took me by surprise. Usually, when something that big happens, people give up their dream all together but he somehow managed to find a way to keep it. Not in the way he planned for but close enough.

"That's actually kind of beautiful," I said.

He shrugged, a little bashful now. "Not really. I was just desperate not to lose everything I'd built. PT gave me a second life. I wanted to be a part of that for someone else."

We fell quiet for a moment, but not uncomfortably. The kind of silence that let you breathe.

He glanced over at me. "So what about you? What's your thing?"

"Books," I said. "And I'm a great movie watcher."

He grinned. "Dangerous combination."

"Oh, I know. I've weaponized remotes."

He laughed again, this time deeper. "You write?"

"I try," I said, suddenly shy. "Mostly random stories that are a little all over the place. But I haven't really figured out where it's going yet."

He leaned against the railing next to me, shoulder close enough to feel but not touch. "Does it have to go somewhere? Can't it just be... yours?"

"I guess that's the dream," I said softly. "To have something that's just mine."

He nodded. "I get that."

I looked out into the yard, the sun rays stretching long across the lawn, the smell of fire filling the air.

This was nice.

Chris was nice.

He was kind and funny and sweet, and he said things like it doesn't have to go somewhere. And when I was around him, I didn't have to watch my every word. Didn't feel like I was on the edge of some cliff.

But even as he leaned in a little closer, warming the space between us with that casual confidence, all I could hear was the rasp of Joel's voice.

"I can't stop lookin' at you."

It haunted me.

Because it hadn't sounded like a come on. It had sounded like a confession.

And even now, with Chris standing inches from me, saying all the right things, I couldn't shake the way Joel had looked at me right before he left the room, like he hated how much he meant it.

Chris sighed, stepping back a little. "You wanna head back in?"

"Not yet," I said. "Let's stay out here a little longer. I'll tell you all about how rom-coms are superior to football."

He grinned. "Oh, you're one of those."

"Yup. And I bake. So careful what you say next—my muffins have power."

Chris laughed again, and we started talking about stupid movie tropes and guilty pleasures, and he was charming and clever and said all the right things. He was the kind of guy who made sense. The kind who could build something stable and safe.

But in the back of my mind, I already knew.

Safe wasn't what I wanted.

————————

The game had ended with a victory roar from the couch. Tommy yelled, Sarah jumped up and did some ridiculous little touchdown dance, and Joel cracked a rare smile that made my chest ache more than it should've.

The team won. Pizza was half-eaten and growing cold, beer bottles littered the coffee table, and Benji had passed out curled up against Maria's side, one tiny socked foot still twitching in his sleep.

Maria reached over and tucked a blanket around him, her smile warm. "That was a good game, too bad this little guy couldn't see it." she said, stretching.

"I'll give him the run down in the mornin', poor kid fought his sleep for a while." Tommy chuckled, pressing a quick kiss on to his son's head.

"Now we've got to figure out what you girls are going to wear for the Christmas ball." Maria said looking to Sarah and me.

"Wait, I didn't know it was a formal thing?" I asked, glancing between her and Sarah.

Sarah perked up. "Oh my god, yes. I completely forgot about that. The town does a big winter charity ball every year. It's actually super cute. Kind of fancy. Lights everywhere. They decorate the town hall like it's straight out of a Hallmark movie. Think of Stars Hollow meets Texas."

Maria grinned at me. "You'll love it. I was thinking we could go dress shopping this week. Make a day of it. Get some coffee and go out for brunch?"

Before I could answer, Tommy's voice cut in from the recliner. "Long as I don't have to carry shopping bags, sounds like a plan."

Maria rolled her eyes. "You'd complain if we made you carry a feather."

"I ain't built for that kind of labor," he fired back with a wink.

I laughed, relaxing into the cushion, eyes drifting toward where Joel stood. His arms were crossed across his chest. He hadn't joined in the conversation, but he was listening, I could feel it.

His eyes flicked to me once. Then away. In the next second. I hated how much I noticed it.

⸻

Later that night, the sky was darker, colder, and the front porch light cast long shadows across the gravel driveway. Sarah and I walked outside with Mason and Chris to say goodnight. The air had a bite to it now, and I hugged my arms around myself, pulling my knitted sweater closer to me.

Sarah and Mason fell into their own world off to the side, laughing about some inside joke they had between each other. I stood with Chris near his car, the quiet of night settling in around us.

"That was a good game," Chris said, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. "Even though I wasn't really paying attention."

"Same," I replied. "I was mostly in it for the snacks."

He laughed, soft and gentle but soothing to my ears. "Honestly? I'm glad I came," he said, eyes locking on mine. "Mostly 'cause I got to meet you."

I swallowed, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

Then he asked, quieter now, "Would it be weird if I said I'd like to see you again?"

My stomach flipped, not in a chaotic way. Just... warm. Easy. Like saying yes wouldn't be difficult. With Chris, it was easy. Simple. No games, I didn't have to spend my time trying to figure out what the hell he was thinking. And maybe that's what I needed.

I smiled, tilting my head. "If you're lucky."

He grinned. "I like my odds."

We said our goodbyes, and Sarah grabbed my hand the second we walked back inside, both of us trying not to squeal like teenagers. I couldn't help it. The feeling I had, it was bubbling into excitement?

Dylan who?

"He is so into you," she said, kicking off her boots and practically bouncing in place. "And he's hot. And charming. You have to say yes if he asks you out again."

"I mean..." I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but I could feel the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "He's almost too perfect."

"That's not a complaint," she said, nudging me with her elbow.

"No," I said, quietly. "But I can't help that I'm gonna end up ruining it somehow."

Sarah let out a soft sigh. "You're not."

"Maybe...but I wouldn't mind seeing him again."

Across the room, Joel was by the fireplace, in a conversation with Tommy—but I saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw ticked, and his eyes were locked on me.

Then, suddenly, he stepped back from the conversation and muttered something to Tommy before disappearing down the hallway.

⸻

JOEL POV

Maria kissed my cheek and gave me a look, the kind that said she knew something I didn't know. She and Tommy packed up Benji and said their goodnights around eight. The front door clicked shut, and suddenly the house felt quieter. Still.

The living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Blankets, empty pizza boxes, game-day debris. Sarah started with the toys she brought out for Benji to play with.

I walked over, grabbed a trash bag, and cleaned up the trash, while y/n moved around the room, picking up cushions, folding blankets, humming a little under her breath.

I shouldn't have been watching her.

But I was.

I told myself to just clean up. Focus. But when she bent down to grab one of the cushions that had fallen to the floor, I saw it. A sliver of black lace peeked out above the waistband of her jeans.

I froze.

My body reacted instantly. Unreasonably. A warm sensation rushed down my body and my hand clenched the edge of the trash bag so tight it crinkled. And suddenly my jeans felt uncomfortably tight.

Goddamn it.

I turned away fast, heat crawling up my neck. Jesus, Joel. Get it together.

I tried to shake it off. Tried to focus.

I wasn't a kid anymore. I'd spent years learning how to keep control, and not let something like that affect me. But when it came to her? She was undoing every single bit of discipline I had. And she had no idea.

My mind dragged me backward. Back to earlier, at the fireplace, before the girls came in, when Tommy leaned toward me and said:

"You ever think maybe you're bein' real obvious?"

I sipped my beer. "What?"

He smirked. "You're starin' at her like you need her to breathe or somethin'. What are you doin', man?"

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."

"Oh, man," he laughed. "You're in deep."

I gave him a look. "She's Sarah's best friend. Ain't nothin' goin' on."

Then y/n and Sarah had walked into the room; laughing, flushed, radiant, and I looked at her. When don't I ever look at her...

Tommy let out a soft chuckle and muttered under his breath, "Yet." Before taking a swig of his beer.

She bent over again to straighten a throw blanket, and I looked again, even though I shouldn't have. Even though I knew I'd hate myself for it later.

My body was screaming at me, and I hated it. Hated how much she affected me. Hated how bad I wanted something I could never, ever have.

Sarah let out a yawn and stretched her limbs out, groggily. "I'm gonna take a shower before bed. You okay down here?" She asked y/n.

Y/n stopped what was doing and met my daughter's eyes with a smile. "Oh yeah. It's pretty much clean anyways. Just need to load these in the dishwasher. But I'll be fine."

"You sure? I can help—"

"Sarah, go take a shower. I'm a big girl, I'll be fine." She chuckled.

Sarah nodded but before she made her way up the stairs, she walked over to me and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek. "Good night dad."

"G'night sweetheart."

And just like that, we were alone.

She moved into the kitchen with a quiet grace that drove me insane. Carrying a stack of dishes, calm, collected, no care in the world.

I didn't mean to follow her. Hell, I told myself not to. But my legs moved anyway. By the time I reached the kitchen archway, she was at the sink. The faucet hissed as water poured over the plates. Her hair was up now, loose strands falling around her neck.

I stood there, leaning against the wooden frame, hands fisted deep into my pockets. My shoulders were tight, jaw clenched, trying like hell to keep it together.

My voice came out low, rough. "Y/N."

She paused.

I saw the way her back stiffened at first, like she wasn't sure she wanted to hear my voice, then I watched her exhale slowly, her spine softening just a touch. Like she was letting something go.

She reached forward, shut off the faucet. The quiet that followed rang louder than the running water ever had.

When she turned around and looked at me, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

Those eyes—sharp and uncertain and burning with something she didn't want to name.

"Joel." She said.

God help me.

"Did you..." I cleared my throat. "Did you enjoy yourself today?"

She tilted her head, a trace of amusement—or challenge—at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. I did."

She looked at me for a second longer, like she wanted to say more. Then, in the lull, she flipped it on me.

"Did you?"

I hesitated. A second too long.

Then lied. "Yeah."

But I didn't.

I didn't enjoy a single damn second of watching her sit too close to that too pretty, too polished boy out on the porch. Didn't enjoy pretending to care about game stats while listening to her laugh with someone else.

Because the only part of today I wanted was this…right here. Her, and me, and this aching silence full of everything we weren't saying.

Another pause stretched too long between us.

We both opened our mouths at the same time.

"I—"

We stopped.

Looked at each other. Then laughed, quick and awkward.

"Go ahead," I said, gesturing slightly. "You first."

She looked down for a second, biting back a smile. Then lifted her gaze and said, "Can we just... start over?"

That caught me off guard. I blinked.

"Like," she continued, "forget whatever this weirdness is. Call it even. Move on."

Her voice had softened. Not cold. Not hard. Just tired. She was tired of carrying the tension on her own.

I swallowed hard.

Start over.

That sounded like relief and punishment all at once.

Still, I managed a smirk. Small. Real. "Yeah. Sure."

She smiled, big this time, like it came from somewhere deeper. Then she took a step toward me, extending her hand.

"I'm y/n," she said playfully. "Nice to meet you."

I couldn't help it…I laughed. The kind I hadn't let out in days. It cracked something in my chest.

I took her hand in mine.

Warm. Soft. Too soft.

A jolt went through me like someone reached into my chest and flipped a switch I'd buried years ago.

"Nice to meet you, y/n," I murmured. "I'm Joel."

She chuckled, and for a second, nothing else existed. Not the lines between us. Not Sarah upstairs. Not the things I couldn't say.

She slowly pulled her hand away and stepped back.

There was something playful in her eyes now. She tilted her head. "You and Tommy are nothing alike."

I raised an eyebrow. "No?"

She smirked. "He's so bubbly. Kind of... sparkly, actually."

I snorted. "Sparkly?"

"He is!" she grinned. "It's a compliment."

I leaned against the counter, arms folded. "Well, see, that's 'cause I took all the brooding from our mama's side. Left him with the rest. Hyperactivity and glitter."

That made her laugh; really laugh. Head tilted back, eyes bright, the sound full and open. It lit her up from the inside.

And I don't know what it was about that moment, maybe how easy it was, or how long it had been since we had one like it, but something in my chest twisted hard.

She looked at me after her laughter faded and shrugged lightly.

"Honestly?" she said, eyes still bright. "It suits you."

I tilted my head, lips quirking. "Brooding? Or the crippling emotional repression?"

She let out a soft snort, caught off guard again. "Both."

I smirked, watching her try to hold back the grin that was already winning. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, cheeks still pink from laughing.

"You're actually kind of funny," she said, sounding like she was only just figuring that out.

I shrugged, mock-casual. "Don't tell anyone. I got a reputation to protect."

Her laugh was softer this time—low and breathy. The kind that felt just for me. She bit her lower lip as she looked at me, eyes warm now, free of the tension that'd sat between us all night.

"Don't worry," she said with a sly smile. "Your secret's safe with me."

Silence settled again, but this time it was easy.

Comfortable.

She glanced at the clock, then back at me. "I should get ready for bed. It's getting late."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah."

She started walking toward the hallway, her socked feet quiet on the hardwood.

I didn't know why I felt like I wanted to stop her, maybe just to make the moment last a little longer. But I stayed still.

Then, just before she reached the stairs, she paused and looked back at me over her shoulder.

A smile tugged at her lips.

"Goodnight, Joel."

I felt that one word like a bruise under my ribs.

But I smiled back.

"Goodnight, y/n."

And just like that, she disappeared up the stairs—and left me standing there in the kitchen, alone again.

Only this time... I didn't mind the silence so much.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples & Butterflies pt. 8

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : your roommate invites you to spend winter break with her and her family in Texas…but things heat up between you and her dad…Joel miller. SLOW BURN!

Apples&Butterflies masterlist

A/N : so I’m in the process of going back to change things up in the book and add more to the story. And honestly, I’m obsessing over it lol. This is nothing compared to what I have added and changed lol part of me wants to go back and delete all the parts and add in the new ones 😭

The second Joel walked out of the kitchen, it felt like the air dropped ten degrees. Chills covered me completely.

I pressed my palms against the counter and let out a shaky breath. My heart was hammering in my chest, like it didn't know what to do with itself, as if it had been thrown into some kind of free fall and still hadn't landed.

"I can't stop lookin' at you."

He'd said it like it slipped. Like it got out before he could cage it. Then he looked at me like he hated himself for it. And then he was gone.

I stood there frozen, staring at the empty doorway like he might come back. But of course he didn't. Joel didn't make mistakes twice. Not the kind that involved me, anyway.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, cold against my palm, and headed back to the living room; mind racing, chest tight.

The room buzzed with the sound of the game, shouting and laughing, the occasional cheer or groan. I spotted him immediately. Sitting  in his recliner, completely still, eyes on the screen but his jaw tight. Set like stone. Like he was forcing himself not to look at me.

Fine.

Two can play that game.

I slid down next to Chris on the couch, trying to be casual. Trying to make it feel natural. I felt Joel's eyes on me, just for a second, like heat against my skin.

I turned to him and smiled. "Wanna go outside? Get some fresh air?"

He blinked at me, surprised, then smiled back. "Yeah. Sure."

We stepped out onto the back porch, the screen door creaking behind us. The air wasn't cold exactly, but it was crisp. Sharp in the lungs. The kind of chill that hinted at Christmas lights and quiet mornings. There was no snow, just a faint layer of frost across the patio railing and patches of stiff grass crunching under our shoes.

Chris rubbed his hands together with a breathy laugh. "Man this weather feels great."

I tugged my sleeves down over my hands. "Yeah it took me by surprise."

He laughed, and I liked the way it sounded—unforced, clean. "You from around here?"

"Nope. I'm a Cali girl." I said, leaning against the wooden railing. "I'm just tagging along Sarah's winter break. You?"

He nodded. "Born in Houston. Grew up there, went to school in New York, and then work brought me back here."

"Sorry but, how did you get into Physical Therapy?"

"I used to play until I tore my ACL junior year."

I looked over at him, surprised. "Football? What position?"

"Wide receiver. I was fast, but not fast enough to outrun my knee exploding mid-play." He said, with a little smirk. Almost like he was trying to play it off as no big deal.

"Ouch," I winced. "That sounds horrifying."

"Oh, it sucked. But recovery was how I found PT. I had this therapist who worked with me every single day like my career still mattered even when it didn't. Made me want to be that for someone else."

His response took me by surprise. Usually, when something that big happens, people give up their dream all together but he somehow managed to find a way to keep it. Not in the way he planned for but close enough.

"That's actually kind of beautiful," I said.

He shrugged, a little bashful now. "Not really. I was just desperate not to lose everything I'd built. PT gave me a second life. I wanted to be a part of that for someone else."

We fell quiet for a moment, but not uncomfortably. The kind of silence that let you breathe.

He glanced over at me. "So what about you? What's your thing?"

"Books," I said. "And I'm a great movie watcher."

He grinned. "Dangerous combination."

"Oh, I know. I've weaponized remotes."

He laughed again, this time deeper. "You write?"

"I try," I said, suddenly shy. "Mostly random stories that are a little all over the place. But I haven't really figured out where it's going yet."

He leaned against the railing next to me, shoulder close enough to feel but not touch. "Does it have to go somewhere? Can't it just be... yours?"

"I guess that's the dream," I said softly. "To have something that's just mine."

He nodded. "I get that."

I looked out into the yard, the sun rays stretching long across the lawn, the smell of fire filling the air.

This was nice.

Chris was nice.

He was kind and funny and sweet, and he said things like it doesn't have to go somewhere. And when I was around him, I didn't have to watch my every word. Didn't feel like I was on the edge of some cliff.

But even as he leaned in a little closer, warming the space between us with that casual confidence, all I could hear was the rasp of Joel's voice.

"I can't stop lookin' at you."

It haunted me.

Because it hadn't sounded like a come on. It had sounded like a confession.

And even now, with Chris standing inches from me, saying all the right things, I couldn't shake the way Joel had looked at me right before he left the room, like he hated how much he meant it.

Chris sighed, stepping back a little. "You wanna head back in?"

"Not yet," I said. "Let's stay out here a little longer. I'll tell you all about how rom-coms are superior to football."

He grinned. "Oh, you're one of those."

"Yup. And I bake. So careful what you say next—my muffins have power."

Chris laughed again, and we started talking about stupid movie tropes and guilty pleasures, and he was charming and clever and said all the right things. He was the kind of guy who made sense. The kind who could build something stable and safe.

But in the back of my mind, I already knew.

Safe wasn't what I wanted.

————————

The game had ended with a victory roar from the couch. Tommy yelled, Sarah jumped up and did some ridiculous little touchdown dance, and Joel cracked a rare smile that made my chest ache more than it should've.

The team won. Pizza was half-eaten and growing cold, beer bottles littered the coffee table, and Benji had passed out curled up against Maria's side, one tiny socked foot still twitching in his sleep.

Maria reached over and tucked a blanket around him, her smile warm. "That was a good game, too bad this little guy couldn't see it." she said, stretching.

"I'll give him the run down in the mornin', poor kid fought his sleep for a while." Tommy chuckled, pressing a quick kiss on to his son's head.

"Now we've got to figure out what you girls are going to wear for the Christmas ball." Maria said looking to Sarah and me.

"Wait, I didn't know it was a formal thing?" I asked, glancing between her and Sarah.

Sarah perked up. "Oh my god, yes. I completely forgot about that. The town does a big winter charity ball every year. It's actually super cute. Kind of fancy. Lights everywhere. They decorate the town hall like it's straight out of a Hallmark movie. Think of Stars Hollow meets Texas."

Maria grinned at me. "You'll love it. I was thinking we could go dress shopping this week. Make a day of it. Get some coffee and go out for brunch?"

Before I could answer, Tommy's voice cut in from the recliner. "Long as I don't have to carry shopping bags, sounds like a plan."

Maria rolled her eyes. "You'd complain if we made you carry a feather."

"I ain't built for that kind of labor," he fired back with a wink.

I laughed, relaxing into the cushion, eyes drifting toward where Joel stood. His arms were crossed across his chest. He hadn't joined in the conversation, but he was listening, I could feel it.

His eyes flicked to me once. Then away. In the next second. I hated how much I noticed it.

⸻

Later that night, the sky was darker, colder, and the front porch light cast long shadows across the gravel driveway. Sarah and I walked outside with Mason and Chris to say goodnight. The air had a bite to it now, and I hugged my arms around myself, pulling my knitted sweater closer to me.

Sarah and Mason fell into their own world off to the side, laughing about some inside joke they had between each other. I stood with Chris near his car, the quiet of night settling in around us.

"That was a good game," Chris said, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. "Even though I wasn't really paying attention."

"Same," I replied. "I was mostly in it for the snacks."

He laughed, soft and gentle but soothing to my ears. "Honestly? I'm glad I came," he said, eyes locking on mine. "Mostly 'cause I got to meet you."

I swallowed, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

Then he asked, quieter now, "Would it be weird if I said I'd like to see you again?"

My stomach flipped, not in a chaotic way. Just... warm. Easy. Like saying yes wouldn't be difficult. With Chris, it was easy. Simple. No games, I didn't have to spend my time trying to figure out what the hell he was thinking. And maybe that's what I needed.

I smiled, tilting my head. "If you're lucky."

He grinned. "I like my odds."

We said our goodbyes, and Sarah grabbed my hand the second we walked back inside, both of us trying not to squeal like teenagers. I couldn't help it. The feeling I had, it was bubbling into excitement?

Dylan who?

"He is so into you," she said, kicking off her boots and practically bouncing in place. "And he's hot. And charming. You have to say yes if he asks you out again."

"I mean..." I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, but I could feel the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "He's almost too perfect."

"That's not a complaint," she said, nudging me with her elbow.

"No," I said, quietly. "But I can't help that I'm gonna end up ruining it somehow."

Sarah let out a soft sigh. "You're not."

"Maybe...but I wouldn't mind seeing him again."

Across the room, Joel was by the fireplace, in a conversation with Tommy—but I saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw ticked, and his eyes were locked on me.

Then, suddenly, he stepped back from the conversation and muttered something to Tommy before disappearing down the hallway.

⸻

JOEL POV

Maria kissed my cheek and gave me a look, the kind that said she knew something I didn't know. She and Tommy packed up Benji and said their goodnights around eight. The front door clicked shut, and suddenly the house felt quieter. Still.

The living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Blankets, empty pizza boxes, game-day debris. Sarah started with the toys she brought out for Benji to play with.

I walked over, grabbed a trash bag, and cleaned up the trash, while y/n moved around the room, picking up cushions, folding blankets, humming a little under her breath.

I shouldn't have been watching her.

But I was.

I told myself to just clean up. Focus. But when she bent down to grab one of the cushions that had fallen to the floor, I saw it. A sliver of black lace peeked out above the waistband of her jeans.

I froze.

My body reacted instantly. Unreasonably. A warm sensation rushed down my body and my hand clenched the edge of the trash bag so tight it crinkled. And suddenly my jeans felt uncomfortably tight.

Goddamn it.

I turned away fast, heat crawling up my neck. Jesus, Joel. Get it together.

I tried to shake it off. Tried to focus.

I wasn't a kid anymore. I'd spent years learning how to keep control, and not let something like that affect me. But when it came to her? She was undoing every single bit of discipline I had. And she had no idea.

My mind dragged me backward. Back to earlier, at the fireplace, before the girls came in, when Tommy leaned toward me and said:

"You ever think maybe you're bein' real obvious?"

I sipped my beer. "What?"

He smirked. "You're starin' at her like you need her to breathe or somethin'. What are you doin', man?"

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up."

"Oh, man," he laughed. "You're in deep."

I gave him a look. "She's Sarah's best friend. Ain't nothin' goin' on."

Then y/n and Sarah had walked into the room; laughing, flushed, radiant, and I looked at her. When don't I ever look at her...

Tommy let out a soft chuckle and muttered under his breath, "Yet." Before taking a swig of his beer.

She bent over again to straighten a throw blanket, and I looked again, even though I shouldn't have. Even though I knew I'd hate myself for it later.

My body was screaming at me, and I hated it. Hated how much she affected me. Hated how bad I wanted something I could never, ever have.

Sarah let out a yawn and stretched her limbs out, groggily. "I'm gonna take a shower before bed. You okay down here?" She asked y/n.

Y/n stopped what was doing and met my daughter's eyes with a smile. "Oh yeah. It's pretty much clean anyways. Just need to load these in the dishwasher. But I'll be fine."

"You sure? I can help—"

"Sarah, go take a shower. I'm a big girl, I'll be fine." She chuckled.

Sarah nodded but before she made her way up the stairs, she walked over to me and pressed a soft kiss on my cheek. "Good night dad."

"G'night sweetheart."

And just like that, we were alone.

She moved into the kitchen with a quiet grace that drove me insane. Carrying a stack of dishes, calm, collected, no care in the world.

I didn't mean to follow her. Hell, I told myself not to. But my legs moved anyway. By the time I reached the kitchen archway, she was at the sink. The faucet hissed as water poured over the plates. Her hair was up now, loose strands falling around her neck.

I stood there, leaning against the wooden frame, hands fisted deep into my pockets. My shoulders were tight, jaw clenched, trying like hell to keep it together.

My voice came out low, rough. "Y/N."

She paused.

I saw the way her back stiffened at first, like she wasn't sure she wanted to hear my voice, then I watched her exhale slowly, her spine softening just a touch. Like she was letting something go.

She reached forward, shut off the faucet. The quiet that followed rang louder than the running water ever had.

When she turned around and looked at me, I nearly forgot how to breathe.

Those eyes—sharp and uncertain and burning with something she didn't want to name.

"Joel." She said.

God help me.

"Did you..." I cleared my throat. "Did you enjoy yourself today?"

She tilted her head, a trace of amusement—or challenge—at the corners of her mouth. "Yeah. I did."

She looked at me for a second longer, like she wanted to say more. Then, in the lull, she flipped it on me.

"Did you?"

I hesitated. A second too long.

Then lied. "Yeah."

But I didn't.

I didn't enjoy a single damn second of watching her sit too close to that too pretty, too polished boy out on the porch. Didn't enjoy pretending to care about game stats while listening to her laugh with someone else.

Because the only part of today I wanted was this…right here. Her, and me, and this aching silence full of everything we weren't saying.

Another pause stretched too long between us.

We both opened our mouths at the same time.

"I—"

We stopped.

Looked at each other. Then laughed, quick and awkward.

"Go ahead," I said, gesturing slightly. "You first."

She looked down for a second, biting back a smile. Then lifted her gaze and said, "Can we just... start over?"

That caught me off guard. I blinked.

"Like," she continued, "forget whatever this weirdness is. Call it even. Move on."

Her voice had softened. Not cold. Not hard. Just tired. She was tired of carrying the tension on her own.

I swallowed hard.

Start over.

That sounded like relief and punishment all at once.

Still, I managed a smirk. Small. Real. "Yeah. Sure."

She smiled, big this time, like it came from somewhere deeper. Then she took a step toward me, extending her hand.

"I'm y/n," she said playfully. "Nice to meet you."

I couldn't help it…I laughed. The kind I hadn't let out in days. It cracked something in my chest.

I took her hand in mine.

Warm. Soft. Too soft.

A jolt went through me like someone reached into my chest and flipped a switch I'd buried years ago.

"Nice to meet you, y/n," I murmured. "I'm Joel."

She chuckled, and for a second, nothing else existed. Not the lines between us. Not Sarah upstairs. Not the things I couldn't say.

She slowly pulled her hand away and stepped back.

There was something playful in her eyes now. She tilted her head. "You and Tommy are nothing alike."

I raised an eyebrow. "No?"

She smirked. "He's so bubbly. Kind of... sparkly, actually."

I snorted. "Sparkly?"

"He is!" she grinned. "It's a compliment."

I leaned against the counter, arms folded. "Well, see, that's 'cause I took all the brooding from our mama's side. Left him with the rest. Hyperactivity and glitter."

That made her laugh; really laugh. Head tilted back, eyes bright, the sound full and open. It lit her up from the inside.

And I don't know what it was about that moment, maybe how easy it was, or how long it had been since we had one like it, but something in my chest twisted hard.

She looked at me after her laughter faded and shrugged lightly.

"Honestly?" she said, eyes still bright. "It suits you."

I tilted my head, lips quirking. "Brooding? Or the crippling emotional repression?"

She let out a soft snort, caught off guard again. "Both."

I smirked, watching her try to hold back the grin that was already winning. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, cheeks still pink from laughing.

"You're actually kind of funny," she said, sounding like she was only just figuring that out.

I shrugged, mock-casual. "Don't tell anyone. I got a reputation to protect."

Her laugh was softer this time—low and breathy. The kind that felt just for me. She bit her lower lip as she looked at me, eyes warm now, free of the tension that'd sat between us all night.

"Don't worry," she said with a sly smile. "Your secret's safe with me."

Silence settled again, but this time it was easy.

Comfortable.

She glanced at the clock, then back at me. "I should get ready for bed. It's getting late."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah."

She started walking toward the hallway, her socked feet quiet on the hardwood.

I didn't know why I felt like I wanted to stop her, maybe just to make the moment last a little longer. But I stayed still.

Then, just before she reached the stairs, she paused and looked back at me over her shoulder.

A smile tugged at her lips.

"Goodnight, Joel."

I felt that one word like a bruise under my ribs.

But I smiled back.

"Goodnight, y/n."

And just like that, she disappeared up the stairs—and left me standing there in the kitchen, alone again.

Only this time... I didn't mind the silence so much.

—————

Part Nine

[wintrcaptn]

His street photos are always my favorite.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples & Butterflies

I made a video to keep me inspired when writing my book. I know it’s a reader fic now but I’m using taggie as a face claim and I’m obsessed 🥲 help lmao

[wintrcaptn]

Apples & Butterflies

I made a video to keep me inspired when writing my book. I know it’s a reader fic now but I’m using taggie as a face claim and I’m obsessed 🥲 help lmao

[wintrcaptn]

Apple & Butterflies pt. 7

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : you go to Texas with your best friend Sarah for winter break…but things start to heat up between you and your best friends dad.

A&B Masterlist

A/N : hi yall! I am pretty much done writing this story. I wrote it as a Joel miller fic because the main character is inspired by Joel lmao. But I am going to go back and fix things up, change names and a few other things. Also going to add more to each chapter and turn it into a book. 🥲

The door swung open just after eleven, and Joel stepped back to let them in.

"Hey," he greeted, softer than I'd ever heard him. "There you are."

"Uncle Joel!" a tiny voice squealed.

A flash of dark hair darted through the doorway, and before I could blink, a small boy launched himself at Joel's legs. Joel grunted dramatically, stumbling back like he'd just been tackled by a grown man.

"Oh no," Joel groaned, playing it up. "I've been hit. I'm goin' down."

He dropped to one knee and scooped the kid up like it was the most natural thing in the world, his brooding expression melting into something I'd never seen on him before; a huge, genuine smile.

"You get stronger every time, Benji."

"I've been doing push-ups!" the kid declared proudly, flexing his tiny arms.

Joel made an impressed face. "I can tell. You got muscle now."

I stood there, stunned, watching this man become someone completely different. Softer. Warmer. Playful. Like all that steel he carried in his chest had been replaced with honey.

Then came a voice behind them.

"You gonna hog him all to yourself or let me say hello too?"

Joel stood, still holding Benji, and stepped aside to let a woman in. She was tall, with dark brown curls and the kind of smile that made you feel like you'd known her your whole life.

"Hey," Joel said with a smile, hugging her one-armed while Benji clung to his other side. "Did you get Benji's gift from Tommy?"

The woman nodded, though her eyes stayed on Joel a second too long. Not suspicious—just... searching. Like she was checking his face for signs of wear and tear. "I did," she said. "Don't worry, it's under our tree. I'll make sure to get pictures of him opening it first thing."

Her voice had that sturdy softness you hear in people who know exactly how much they can handle, and how much they've already survived.

Joel's lips pulled into a relieved smile. "Good."

Then she reached up and brushed his hair back. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt impossibly intimate. I felt like I'd walked in on something sacred. She kept her eyes on him, full of something thick and tender. Love, clearly. But more than that—responsibility, maybe. Or history.

"Did you sleep in today," she asked softly, "like you promised you would?"

Joel huffed out a breath and he glanced at me for half a second before answering. "I slept enough."

"Joel Miller." She clicked her tongue and shook her head, not buying it for a second. "If I have to tie you to your bed, I swear I will. You need rest. You're not getting any younger—"

"Don't worry, Aunt Maria," Sarah interrupted with a laugh, pulling the woman into a quick hug. "I made sure he rested enough."

Maria. Oh. Tommy's Maria.

That made sense. The quiet authority. The way Joel looked at her when he didn't think anyone else was watching.

Maria's face broke into something brighter when she saw Sarah. "My God," she said, beaming, "you get more and more beautiful every time I see you."

Sarah chuckled, leaning slightly into my side before tugging me forward. "This is my best friend, Y/N. She's staying with me over winter break."

Maria turned to look at and I mean looked. There was something sharp in her eyes, but not unkind.

"So you're the one who makes the muffins," she said finally.

I laughed; too fast and immediately regretted it. "Y-yeah. I guess so."

God. Smooth, Y/N. Smooth.

But she smiled wider, and that look in her eyes softened. "Lucky girl. Joel doesn't let just anyone cook in his kitchen."

Joel muttered behind her, "I let Sarah cook..."

Maria didn't even look at him when she replied. "She's your daughter."

And just like that, Joel had no comeback.

Then Tommy walked in, and the room shifted. He was Joel's mirror, but easier somehow. Same broad frame, same voice in a slightly higher octave, but where Joel was all tension and wary silence, Tommy practically oozed comfort. His smile came quicker. His stance looser. Hair darker, thicker, barely a whisper of white in it. He didn't walk; he strolled.

He reached out to shake my hand, but it turned into a half hug before I could even respond properly.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Joel's told us—" He paused, and turned toward his brother with a mischievous grin. My gaze followed. And Joel looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well. Joel doesn't tell us much. But Sarah filled in the blanks."

Joel groaned, already rolling his eyes. "Loudmouths."

Joel disappeared into the kitchen for a second and came back with two bottles of beer in one hand and a phone in the other. "I ordered pizza. Should be here in thirty." He tossed one beer to Tommy, who caught it without looking and popped the cap against the edge of the coffee table.

It was crazy seeing Joel with his family.

He was... laughing.

Real, unguarded, warm laughs. Loud ones that crinkled his eyes and made Benji giggle just from the sound. He ruffled the boy's hair as he passed, then reached down and scooped him up like it was nothing, setting him on his lap.

"Alright, little man," Joel said, tipping his head toward the TV. "We rootin' for the Cowboys or the Titans today?"

Benji scrunched up his face like the choice was life-or-death. "...Titans."

Joel gasped, mock-offended. "Traitor."

Maria shook her head and grinned from where she was curled into the corner of the couch. "You raised him right. Don't start cryin' now."

I sat cross-legged on the rug next to Sarah, who was already explaining something about wide receivers to me with more enthusiasm than I could pretend to absorb. I nodded, watching Joel out of the corner of my eye, trying not to make it obvious.

God, he was so different like this.

His voice was rough around the edges, sure, but the teasing came easy now. He poked fun at Tommy. Called him "pretty boy" when he tried to defend his fantasy football picks.

It was like watching a version of him I'd never been allowed to see before. One that maybe, if I was being honest with myself, I liked too much.

There was a knock at the door just as the pregame show started.

Sarah nearly tripped over the rug sprinting to open it.

Mason stood there, tall and handsome with his usual boyish grin. Sarah's cheeks flushed instantly.

But it wasn't Mason who caught my attention.

It was the man next to him.

"Hey," Mason said, slinging an arm around his friend's shoulder. "This is Chris. Chris, that's Sarah and Y/N."

Chris was... well. He was something out of a magazine.

Tall, broad, golden-haired with that perfect messiness that definitely took time. His eyes were a piercing blue, like a summer sky before a storm.

He held out a hand, smiling at me first.

"Y/N. Nice to meet you," he said, eyes locking on mine. His smile deepened, and I swear something fizzy uncurled in my chest. His voice? Southern-tinted, smooth as silk, and not quite as deep as Joel's; but still warm enough to make my stomach flip.

I took his hand and smiled back. "You too."

He turned to Sarah and greeted her just as politely, then followed us into the living room where Joel had just settled into his big leather chair, beer in hand.

We all sat around; Sarah close to Mason, me next to Chris on the couch.

Joel came over to us carrying a case of beer, setting it down with a loud thud that made me flinch. "Pizza's on the way. There's chips and water and... whatever else. Make yourselves at home." He said to the guys, but his eyes fell on mine and for a second I saw anger flicker behind them. Did I do something to piss him off?

Maria gave him a look, but he ignored it, grabbing a bottle and walking back over to his recliner.

Everyone settled in as the game started, scattered around the living room. Maria and Tommy sat on stools that Joel brought from the kitchen. Benji seemed to be glued to Mason and Sarah.

"So," Chris said, leaning in slightly, "do you like football?"

I made a face. "I wish I did, but I can never understand what's going on. It's like everyone's yelling about completely different things."

He laughed, and it was nice, not mocking, just genuinely amused. "That's fair. It can get kinda messy if you don't know the rules. You want me to give you the crash course?"

I nodded. "If you think you can explain it to someone who zones out the second someone says the word 'yardage.'"

"Oh, a challenge," he said, turning toward me a little more. "Okay, so. Imagine football like a giant game of chess, but instead of pawns and queens, you've got fast guys and strong guys and a ball that everyone wants."

"Already better," I said, smiling.

Chris grinned. "The whole goal is to get the ball into the end zone, which is that painted part at the end of the field, without the other team tackling you into next week."

I laughed, genuinely enjoying how easy it was to talk to him. He kept it light, a little flirty, but never crossed a line.

Chris shrugged. "Gotta make it fun. Football's not just about brute strength. There's a rhythm to it. Strategy."

"You always this passionate about football?" I asked.

I smiled, even though I could feel it; that weight. That prickling heat crawling up the back of my neck.

I didn't have to look to know where it came from.

But I glanced anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joel, back in his chair, one leg over the other, beer in hand, and staring. No, glowering. Straight at me..

His jaw clenched. His grip on the bottle looked like it might snap glass. His eyes burned.

He looked... pissed.

Chris smile widened. "I actually played ball back in college."

"And now?"

"Now, I work with football players—physical therapy. Graduated from NYU two years ago, did some internships, and now I'm out here working with a few semi-pro teams."

"That's impressive," I said, genuinely meaning it.

He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "I just like helping people get back on their feet. Literally."

I laughed. "I like that."

We kept chatting; easy questions, light jokes. I didn't have to think too hard, didn't have to filter myself. It was refreshing. But every now and then, I couldn't help but look back at Joel. Like a static hum.

He wasn't watching the game. He was watching me.

His eyes were narrowed, jaw tense. The muscles in his forearm flexed every time Chris said something that made me laugh. He looked... furious. But why?

I couldn't shake the heat of his gaze. Couldn't ignore how my stomach twisted every time I looked away.

"Everything okay?" Chris asked softly, his shoulder brushing mine.

"Yeah," I said too quickly, trying to refocus. "I forgot to get something from the kitchen. I'll be back."

I stood up and started my way to the kitchen. Feeling Joel's eyes follow me until I disappeared behind the wall that separated the living room and kitchen.

Leaning against the counter, I tried to keep my composure. Taking in deep breaths, telling myself that it's all in my head.

"Understand football yet?" That familiar voice broke my trance and grabbed my attention instantly.

——————

Joel pov

I should've been watching the goddamn game.

But I wasn't.

My eyes kept drifting—no; locking on her.

Y/N.

Every time she laughed, something twisted in my chest. Every time that guy; Chris, or whatever the hell his name was, leaned just a little too close, my teeth clenched so hard I felt it in my temples. And when she smiled at him like that... soft and open and carefree...

Goddamn it.

I took another pull of my beer and stared at the screen without seeing a thing.

She was Sarah's best friend. Here for winter break, and then she'd be gone. She was off-limits in more ways than I could count.

But none of that stopped me from noticing the way her jeans hugged her hips when she stood up. Or the soft curve of her neck. Or the way her voice dropped when she laughed like she was telling secrets.

When she got up suddenly and muttered something to that guy, I didn't even try to pretend I wasn't watching. My eyes followed her all the way until the kitchen wall swallowed her up.

I couldnt see her anymore. But I could feel her.

A few seconds passed, enough to make me grit my teeth and finish off the rest of my beer in one long pull.

Tommy said something beside me about the Titans' defense, but I stood up and muttered, "Gonna grab another."

"Bring me one," he called after me.

I ignored him.

The second I turned the corner into the kitchen, I saw her. Leaning against the counter, head tilted back, chest rising like she'd just run a marathon. She hadn't heard me yet.

She looked... rattled.

Good. Maybe she felt it too. This thing, whatever it was. Whatever we couldn't admit out loud.

I kept my voice low, but it still cut the silence. "Understand football yet?"

She jumped a little, turning toward me fast. Eyes wide, lips parted. That mouth of hers; I shouldn't be looking at it.

"I—" she stammered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Nope. Not even close."

I nodded slowly, stepping toward the fridge. "Figures."

"Thanks," she said, crossing her arms. "Glad to know I've got your confidence."

I cracked open the fridge, grabbed two beers, and leaned against the door instead of walking back out. "Didn't say it was a bad thing."

She looked at me for a long second. I could feel her trying to read me. Like she wanted to say something but didn't know how. Or maybe she was scared to.

"You don't like Chris," she said finally.

Her voice cut through the stillness. Low. Certain. Like she wasn't asking, just putting something into the air to see what I'd do with it.

I twisted the cap off the beer slow, deliberate. Drew it out because I didn't trust myself to speak too fast. Or too honestly.

"Don't know him," I said.

Her arms folded across her chest. "That's not what I asked."

My jaw worked as I took a swig. Didn't taste the beer, just felt the burn slide down my throat. The sting reminding me I was alive.

"Didn't answer either," I said, flatly.

She stared harder now, like she was pushing through whatever fear she had to get to the truth. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

My jaw locked so tight it ached.

She had no goddamn idea what she was asking.

Or maybe she did.

Maybe she felt it too.

If I told her the truth, if I said how she'd been buried in my head since the day I met her... how her laugh had rewired something in my brain, how the smell of her shampoo haunted my goddamn house; if I said any of that?

I wouldn't stop.

I'd grab her.

I'd kiss her.

And I wouldn't let her go.

I'd been trying to hold it in, keep my damn distance; but this girl was smart. Too smart. She saw every little crack in me, and now she was pushing on them, like she wanted to see what broke first.

"I ain't—" I started, then stopped. Because I was.

I was looking at her like that. Like I wanted to touch her. Like I wanted to taste her. Like I'd forgotten every goddamn rule I'd ever set for myself.

I cleared my throat and tried again, quieter this time. "Like what?"

"Like you're mad at me," she said, voice trembling now, anger and confusion mixed in the cracks. "Like I did something wrong. Did I? Did I do something wrong, Joel?"

My anger dissolved instantly. Just gone.

And all I could see was her. Standing there, feeling small when I'd never wanted that for her. Like she thought she had to defend herself against me.

God, I hated that.

I shook my head slowly. "You didn't do anything wrong."

The words came out low and hoarse, barely more than a rasp. I could barely look at her.

But she didn't back off. "Then what is it? Why are you—"

"Because I can't stop lookin' at you," I snapped before I could think. Voice too sharp. Too raw.

Her breath hitched. And mine did too. I looked at her then, and she was staring up at me with those wide eyes and parted lips and too much hope written all over her face. And I felt it; that pull. Like gravity had a goddamn vendetta against me.

I had to get out of there.

"I shouldn't have said that," I muttered, backing up, shaking my head. "Forget it."

Then I turned and left, fast.

Back in the living room, I shoved a beer into Tommy's hand without a word and dropped into my recliner like it might swallow me whole.

My knee bounced. I couldn't sit still. Couldn't stop grinding my teeth. My whole chest felt too tight.

You're a goddamn fool, I told myself. Making an ass out of yourself...

I almost lost it. Almost caved. Almost told her everything.

And what would've happened then? What? I'd kiss her in the kitchen? With Sarah twenty feet away? With that dumbass kid out there waitin' to put a ring on her finger in five years?

Jesus Christ, Joel.

You're older. You're her friend's father. She's just—

I didn't finish the thought. Couldn't.

Because right then, I saw her.

She walked back in, all calm and composed on the outside, but I could see the storm in her face. Her mouth set a little too tight. Her brows just barely pulled together.

And then she did it.

She sat right down beside Chris. Close. Too close. They didn't touch, but they didn't have to. She glanced over at me. Just once. Held my eyes. Angry. Hurt. Confused. And something else.

And then, like a knife—

"Wanna go outside?" she asked Chris. "Get some fresh air?"

My jaw clenched so hard I heard a click in my ear.

Chris blinked, surprised, but grinned. "Yeah, sure." He stood and followed her out.

And I sat there, watching them disappear toward the back door, blood roaring in my ears.

The game blared on the TV like it was trying to pretend nothing was happening. But all I could see was her walking away from me. With him.

And all I could feel was the rage boiling just under my skin—not at her.

At myself.

[wintrcaptn]

Apples & Butterflies Masterlist

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone. But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller. SLOW BURN

A/N : hi yall! I am pretty much done writing this story. I wrote it as a Joel miller fic because the main character is inspired by Joel lmao. But I am going to go back and fix things up, change names and a few other things. Also going to add more to each chapter and turn it into a book. I hope you enjoy the fic!

Playlist. Inspo video

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

[wintrcaptn]

Apple & Butterflies pt. 7

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : you go to Texas with your best friend Sarah for winter break…but things start to heat up between you and your best friends dad.

A&B Masterlist

A/N : hi yall! I am pretty much done writing this story. I wrote it as a Joel miller fic because the main character is inspired by Joel lmao. But I am going to go back and fix things up, change names and a few other things. Also going to add more to each chapter and turn it into a book. 🥲

The door swung open just after eleven, and Joel stepped back to let them in.

"Hey," he greeted, softer than I'd ever heard him. "There you are."

"Uncle Joel!" a tiny voice squealed.

A flash of dark hair darted through the doorway, and before I could blink, a small boy launched himself at Joel's legs. Joel grunted dramatically, stumbling back like he'd just been tackled by a grown man.

"Oh no," Joel groaned, playing it up. "I've been hit. I'm goin' down."

He dropped to one knee and scooped the kid up like it was the most natural thing in the world, his brooding expression melting into something I'd never seen on him before; a huge, genuine smile.

"You get stronger every time, Benji."

"I've been doing push-ups!" the kid declared proudly, flexing his tiny arms.

Joel made an impressed face. "I can tell. You got muscle now."

I stood there, stunned, watching this man become someone completely different. Softer. Warmer. Playful. Like all that steel he carried in his chest had been replaced with honey.

Then came a voice behind them.

"You gonna hog him all to yourself or let me say hello too?"

Joel stood, still holding Benji, and stepped aside to let a woman in. She was tall, with dark brown curls and the kind of smile that made you feel like you'd known her your whole life.

"Hey," Joel said with a smile, hugging her one-armed while Benji clung to his other side. "Did you get Benji's gift from Tommy?"

The woman nodded, though her eyes stayed on Joel a second too long. Not suspicious—just... searching. Like she was checking his face for signs of wear and tear. "I did," she said. "Don't worry, it's under our tree. I'll make sure to get pictures of him opening it first thing."

Her voice had that sturdy softness you hear in people who know exactly how much they can handle, and how much they've already survived.

Joel's lips pulled into a relieved smile. "Good."

Then she reached up and brushed his hair back. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt impossibly intimate. I felt like I'd walked in on something sacred. She kept her eyes on him, full of something thick and tender. Love, clearly. But more than that—responsibility, maybe. Or history.

"Did you sleep in today," she asked softly, "like you promised you would?"

Joel huffed out a breath and he glanced at me for half a second before answering. "I slept enough."

"Joel Miller." She clicked her tongue and shook her head, not buying it for a second. "If I have to tie you to your bed, I swear I will. You need rest. You're not getting any younger—"

"Don't worry, Aunt Maria," Sarah interrupted with a laugh, pulling the woman into a quick hug. "I made sure he rested enough."

Maria. Oh. Tommy's Maria.

That made sense. The quiet authority. The way Joel looked at her when he didn't think anyone else was watching.

Maria's face broke into something brighter when she saw Sarah. "My God," she said, beaming, "you get more and more beautiful every time I see you."

Sarah chuckled, leaning slightly into my side before tugging me forward. "This is my best friend, Y/N. She's staying with me over winter break."

Maria turned to look at and I mean looked. There was something sharp in her eyes, but not unkind.

"So you're the one who makes the muffins," she said finally.

I laughed; too fast and immediately regretted it. "Y-yeah. I guess so."

God. Smooth, Y/N. Smooth.

But she smiled wider, and that look in her eyes softened. "Lucky girl. Joel doesn't let just anyone cook in his kitchen."

Joel muttered behind her, "I let Sarah cook..."

Maria didn't even look at him when she replied. "She's your daughter."

And just like that, Joel had no comeback.

Then Tommy walked in, and the room shifted. He was Joel's mirror, but easier somehow. Same broad frame, same voice in a slightly higher octave, but where Joel was all tension and wary silence, Tommy practically oozed comfort. His smile came quicker. His stance looser. Hair darker, thicker, barely a whisper of white in it. He didn't walk; he strolled.

He reached out to shake my hand, but it turned into a half hug before I could even respond properly.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Joel's told us—" He paused, and turned toward his brother with a mischievous grin. My gaze followed. And Joel looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well. Joel doesn't tell us much. But Sarah filled in the blanks."

Joel groaned, already rolling his eyes. "Loudmouths."

Joel disappeared into the kitchen for a second and came back with two bottles of beer in one hand and a phone in the other. "I ordered pizza. Should be here in thirty." He tossed one beer to Tommy, who caught it without looking and popped the cap against the edge of the coffee table.

It was crazy seeing Joel with his family.

He was... laughing.

Real, unguarded, warm laughs. Loud ones that crinkled his eyes and made Benji giggle just from the sound. He ruffled the boy's hair as he passed, then reached down and scooped him up like it was nothing, setting him on his lap.

"Alright, little man," Joel said, tipping his head toward the TV. "We rootin' for the Cowboys or the Titans today?"

Benji scrunched up his face like the choice was life-or-death. "...Titans."

Joel gasped, mock-offended. "Traitor."

Maria shook her head and grinned from where she was curled into the corner of the couch. "You raised him right. Don't start cryin' now."

I sat cross-legged on the rug next to Sarah, who was already explaining something about wide receivers to me with more enthusiasm than I could pretend to absorb. I nodded, watching Joel out of the corner of my eye, trying not to make it obvious.

God, he was so different like this.

His voice was rough around the edges, sure, but the teasing came easy now. He poked fun at Tommy. Called him "pretty boy" when he tried to defend his fantasy football picks.

It was like watching a version of him I'd never been allowed to see before. One that maybe, if I was being honest with myself, I liked too much.

There was a knock at the door just as the pregame show started.

Sarah nearly tripped over the rug sprinting to open it.

Mason stood there, tall and handsome with his usual boyish grin. Sarah's cheeks flushed instantly.

But it wasn't Mason who caught my attention.

It was the man next to him.

"Hey," Mason said, slinging an arm around his friend's shoulder. "This is Chris. Chris, that's Sarah and Y/N."

Chris was... well. He was something out of a magazine.

Tall, broad, golden-haired with that perfect messiness that definitely took time. His eyes were a piercing blue, like a summer sky before a storm.

He held out a hand, smiling at me first.

"Y/N. Nice to meet you," he said, eyes locking on mine. His smile deepened, and I swear something fizzy uncurled in my chest. His voice? Southern-tinted, smooth as silk, and not quite as deep as Joel's; but still warm enough to make my stomach flip.

I took his hand and smiled back. "You too."

He turned to Sarah and greeted her just as politely, then followed us into the living room where Joel had just settled into his big leather chair, beer in hand.

We all sat around; Sarah close to Mason, me next to Chris on the couch.

Joel came over to us carrying a case of beer, setting it down with a loud thud that made me flinch. "Pizza's on the way. There's chips and water and... whatever else. Make yourselves at home." He said to the guys, but his eyes fell on mine and for a second I saw anger flicker behind them. Did I do something to piss him off?

Maria gave him a look, but he ignored it, grabbing a bottle and walking back over to his recliner.

Everyone settled in as the game started, scattered around the living room. Maria and Tommy sat on stools that Joel brought from the kitchen. Benji seemed to be glued to Mason and Sarah.

"So," Chris said, leaning in slightly, "do you like football?"

I made a face. "I wish I did, but I can never understand what's going on. It's like everyone's yelling about completely different things."

He laughed, and it was nice, not mocking, just genuinely amused. "That's fair. It can get kinda messy if you don't know the rules. You want me to give you the crash course?"

I nodded. "If you think you can explain it to someone who zones out the second someone says the word 'yardage.'"

"Oh, a challenge," he said, turning toward me a little more. "Okay, so. Imagine football like a giant game of chess, but instead of pawns and queens, you've got fast guys and strong guys and a ball that everyone wants."

"Already better," I said, smiling.

Chris grinned. "The whole goal is to get the ball into the end zone, which is that painted part at the end of the field, without the other team tackling you into next week."

I laughed, genuinely enjoying how easy it was to talk to him. He kept it light, a little flirty, but never crossed a line.

Chris shrugged. "Gotta make it fun. Football's not just about brute strength. There's a rhythm to it. Strategy."

"You always this passionate about football?" I asked.

I smiled, even though I could feel it; that weight. That prickling heat crawling up the back of my neck.

I didn't have to look to know where it came from.

But I glanced anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joel, back in his chair, one leg over the other, beer in hand, and staring. No, glowering. Straight at me..

His jaw clenched. His grip on the bottle looked like it might snap glass. His eyes burned.

He looked... pissed.

Chris smile widened. "I actually played ball back in college."

"And now?"

"Now, I work with football players—physical therapy. Graduated from NYU two years ago, did some internships, and now I'm out here working with a few semi-pro teams."

"That's impressive," I said, genuinely meaning it.

He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "I just like helping people get back on their feet. Literally."

I laughed. "I like that."

We kept chatting; easy questions, light jokes. I didn't have to think too hard, didn't have to filter myself. It was refreshing. But every now and then, I couldn't help but look back at Joel. Like a static hum.

He wasn't watching the game. He was watching me.

His eyes were narrowed, jaw tense. The muscles in his forearm flexed every time Chris said something that made me laugh. He looked... furious. But why?

I couldn't shake the heat of his gaze. Couldn't ignore how my stomach twisted every time I looked away.

"Everything okay?" Chris asked softly, his shoulder brushing mine.

"Yeah," I said too quickly, trying to refocus. "I forgot to get something from the kitchen. I'll be back."

I stood up and started my way to the kitchen. Feeling Joel's eyes follow me until I disappeared behind the wall that separated the living room and kitchen.

Leaning against the counter, I tried to keep my composure. Taking in deep breaths, telling myself that it's all in my head.

"Understand football yet?" That familiar voice broke my trance and grabbed my attention instantly.

——————

Joel pov

I should've been watching the goddamn game.

But I wasn't.

My eyes kept drifting—no; locking on her.

Y/N.

Every time she laughed, something twisted in my chest. Every time that guy; Chris, or whatever the hell his name was, leaned just a little too close, my teeth clenched so hard I felt it in my temples. And when she smiled at him like that... soft and open and carefree...

Goddamn it.

I took another pull of my beer and stared at the screen without seeing a thing.

She was Sarah's best friend. Here for winter break, and then she'd be gone. She was off-limits in more ways than I could count.

But none of that stopped me from noticing the way her jeans hugged her hips when she stood up. Or the soft curve of her neck. Or the way her voice dropped when she laughed like she was telling secrets.

When she got up suddenly and muttered something to that guy, I didn't even try to pretend I wasn't watching. My eyes followed her all the way until the kitchen wall swallowed her up.

I couldnt see her anymore. But I could feel her.

A few seconds passed, enough to make me grit my teeth and finish off the rest of my beer in one long pull.

Tommy said something beside me about the Titans' defense, but I stood up and muttered, "Gonna grab another."

"Bring me one," he called after me.

I ignored him.

The second I turned the corner into the kitchen, I saw her. Leaning against the counter, head tilted back, chest rising like she'd just run a marathon. She hadn't heard me yet.

She looked... rattled.

Good. Maybe she felt it too. This thing, whatever it was. Whatever we couldn't admit out loud.

I kept my voice low, but it still cut the silence. "Understand football yet?"

She jumped a little, turning toward me fast. Eyes wide, lips parted. That mouth of hers; I shouldn't be looking at it.

"I—" she stammered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Nope. Not even close."

I nodded slowly, stepping toward the fridge. "Figures."

"Thanks," she said, crossing her arms. "Glad to know I've got your confidence."

I cracked open the fridge, grabbed two beers, and leaned against the door instead of walking back out. "Didn't say it was a bad thing."

She looked at me for a long second. I could feel her trying to read me. Like she wanted to say something but didn't know how. Or maybe she was scared to.

"You don't like Chris," she said finally.

Her voice cut through the stillness. Low. Certain. Like she wasn't asking, just putting something into the air to see what I'd do with it.

I twisted the cap off the beer slow, deliberate. Drew it out because I didn't trust myself to speak too fast. Or too honestly.

"Don't know him," I said.

Her arms folded across her chest. "That's not what I asked."

My jaw worked as I took a swig. Didn't taste the beer, just felt the burn slide down my throat. The sting reminding me I was alive.

"Didn't answer either," I said, flatly.

She stared harder now, like she was pushing through whatever fear she had to get to the truth. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

My jaw locked so tight it ached.

She had no goddamn idea what she was asking.

Or maybe she did.

Maybe she felt it too.

If I told her the truth, if I said how she'd been buried in my head since the day I met her... how her laugh had rewired something in my brain, how the smell of her shampoo haunted my goddamn house; if I said any of that?

I wouldn't stop.

I'd grab her.

I'd kiss her.

And I wouldn't let her go.

I'd been trying to hold it in, keep my damn distance; but this girl was smart. Too smart. She saw every little crack in me, and now she was pushing on them, like she wanted to see what broke first.

"I ain't—" I started, then stopped. Because I was.

I was looking at her like that. Like I wanted to touch her. Like I wanted to taste her. Like I'd forgotten every goddamn rule I'd ever set for myself.

I cleared my throat and tried again, quieter this time. "Like what?"

"Like you're mad at me," she said, voice trembling now, anger and confusion mixed in the cracks. "Like I did something wrong. Did I? Did I do something wrong, Joel?"

My anger dissolved instantly. Just gone.

And all I could see was her. Standing there, feeling small when I'd never wanted that for her. Like she thought she had to defend herself against me.

God, I hated that.

I shook my head slowly. "You didn't do anything wrong."

The words came out low and hoarse, barely more than a rasp. I could barely look at her.

But she didn't back off. "Then what is it? Why are you—"

"Because I can't stop lookin' at you," I snapped before I could think. Voice too sharp. Too raw.

Her breath hitched. And mine did too. I looked at her then, and she was staring up at me with those wide eyes and parted lips and too much hope written all over her face. And I felt it; that pull. Like gravity had a goddamn vendetta against me.

I had to get out of there.

"I shouldn't have said that," I muttered, backing up, shaking my head. "Forget it."

Then I turned and left, fast.

Back in the living room, I shoved a beer into Tommy's hand without a word and dropped into my recliner like it might swallow me whole.

My knee bounced. I couldn't sit still. Couldn't stop grinding my teeth. My whole chest felt too tight.

You're a goddamn fool, I told myself. Making an ass out of yourself...

I almost lost it. Almost caved. Almost told her everything.

And what would've happened then? What? I'd kiss her in the kitchen? With Sarah twenty feet away? With that dumbass kid out there waitin' to put a ring on her finger in five years?

Jesus Christ, Joel.

You're older. You're her friend's father. She's just—

I didn't finish the thought. Couldn't.

Because right then, I saw her.

She walked back in, all calm and composed on the outside, but I could see the storm in her face. Her mouth set a little too tight. Her brows just barely pulled together.

And then she did it.

She sat right down beside Chris. Close. Too close. They didn't touch, but they didn't have to. She glanced over at me. Just once. Held my eyes. Angry. Hurt. Confused. And something else.

And then, like a knife—

"Wanna go outside?" she asked Chris. "Get some fresh air?"

My jaw clenched so hard I heard a click in my ear.

Chris blinked, surprised, but grinned. "Yeah, sure." He stood and followed her out.

And I sat there, watching them disappear toward the back door, blood roaring in my ears.

The game blared on the TV like it was trying to pretend nothing was happening. But all I could see was her walking away from me. With him.

And all I could feel was the rage boiling just under my skin—not at her.

At myself.

——————

Part Eight

[wintrcaptn]

Joel Miller's neck and back and profile and this mad protective attitude. need.

[wintrcaptn]

i can stare at him forever

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies part 6

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone. But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four | Part five

A/N : so I wrote 31 chapters for this so far. Im going to add more to each chapter, change names, and eventually turn it into a book but writing it as a fanfiction really helped me haha

Your POV

Sarah and I had officially declared a holiday hibernation. We spent hours buried under blankets on the couch watching everything from The Holiday to The Grinch, sipping cocoa and making up commentary for the movies that made us snort-laugh until our sides ached. Joel would sit in that leather chair of his, tucked in the corner. He never joined in the chaos, but he never left the room either. That was his thing; being present without actually being in it.

Still, I caught him smiling at the screen once or twice. Just barely. But it happened.

Sarah and I had also taken trips into town, mostly for her gift runs. I wandered behind her like a lost puppy, struggling to figure out what to get her and Joel. Not sure if I even should get him anything.

We'd bump into Mason here and there, and Sarah would go from cool and casual to full-on flustered in three seconds flat. It was hilarious, watching her turn into a complete marshmallow around him.

"He's not into me like that," she told me in the car yesterday.

"Uh, he is constantly bringing up old memories with you. That's literally 'small-town man is low-key obsessed with you' behavior," I'd shot back.

She'd rolled her eyes, but the way she bit her lip and stared out the window said it all. Girl was smitten. Bad.

Joel had been working a lot. Long hours, often gone before the sun was fully up and back when the sky was already dark. But there was always food in the fridge. The thermostat was always adjusted so the house was warm before we woke up. Towels were folded. Wood was stocked by the fireplace.

It didn't go unnoticed.

Neither did the moments right before bed, when he'd walk through the living room, hair damp from the shower, shirt tugged low over his chest, pajama pants slung low on his hips, a glass of water in hand. I'd be curled up on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in whatever book I was holding, even though I had read the same page three times.

It was hard not to look at him. To want him the way I did. And everyday, he made it harder for me to fight these feelings.

———

I woke up before the sun even touched the frosted windows, the world outside still wrapped in a blanket of soft gray. I lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the chill in the air making me pull the comforter up a little higher. But I couldn't go back to sleep—not when my mind was already moving.

I wanted to do something for them.

For Sarah—for opening her life to me so easily. For letting me into her home, her family, her memories. And for Joel—for taking me in without hesitation, even if he wasn't always good at showing it. They didn't have to welcome me like this. They didn't have to make me feel like I belonged here.

But they did.

And I wanted to say thank you the only way I really knew how—through food, through baking, through warmth.

I tiptoed out of bed, careful not to wake Sarah as I passed her room. The floor creaked beneath my socks, the sound oddly comforting in the early stillness. I made my way to the kitchen, switching on just the small light above the stove—enough to see by, not enough to disturb the quiet that wrapped around the house like a lullaby.

It felt like a sacred kind of quiet.

I worked by memory, by instinct—pulling eggs, bacon, flour, cinnamon, sugar, and apples from the fridge and pantry. These were the ingredients of my childhood. I tied my hair into a messy bun, loose strands falling into my face as I rolled up my sleeves. I didn't bother with anything fancy. Just comfort. Just care.

I hadn't baked like this in a while. Not since a year after my mother passed. But something about this kitchen—the old cupboards, the subtle creak of the drawers, the hum of the heater kicking on—it felt safe. Familiar. Like maybe she was here, watching over my shoulder, smiling in that quiet way she used to when I got flour on my nose.

I liked being up before everyone else. It reminded me of holidays at home, when I'd wake to the smell of apple and cinnamon and find her already at the stove, humming a song I never knew the name of.

Now I was the one humming.

The eggs sizzled quietly. Bacon crisped on the stovetop. A fresh batch of apple-cinnamon muffins rose golden in the oven, filling the room with their warm, spiced scent. I moved around the kitchen with a kind of rhythm, phone resting nearby with music playing low—something soft, something calm.

I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I just wanted them to know I saw them. That I appreciated them.

I lost myself in the rhythm, flipping bacon, scooping muffin batter into little crinkled liners, wiping flour off my nose with my wrist. My shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. It made me feel like I was somewhere between dreaming and remembering.

And I did remember. Her smile, her laugh, her hands.

My mom's hands in the kitchen; tough in places but soft when they held mine. Her humming as she swayed back and forth while stirring batter. Her hair always tied back under her favorite knitted blue and white bandanna she'd worn every morning. I could still hear her voice, faint like the wind.

"Don't overmix the batter, honey. Let it breathe. Baking's about love, not perfection."

I smiled before I even realized it. That ache in my chest softened just a little.

It felt like she was here. Just for a second.

I was dusted in flour, barefoot, and humming to myself when I reached for the tray of muffins; perfectly golden, just like she used to make. That's when I heard the creak.

I turned around quickly.

And there he was.

Joel.

Barefoot in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, hair messy, his body still sleepy and solid. He looked like he hadn't expected to see anyone either. But there was something in his face, his eyes tracing me in the soft kitchen light that made the air shift.

———————

Joel's POV

I was halfway through brushing my teeth when I smelled it—apples. Bacon. That warm, buttery kind of scent that made your chest ache a little. Like memories. Or comfort.

I wiped my mouth, tossed the towel on the counter, and padded out of the room. The house was still quiet. Too early for Sarah. But someone was definitely awake.

I rounded the hallway and slowed just before the kitchen.

There she was.

Y/N.

She moved like she was alone. Like this space was hers. Cracking eggs. Hummin' soft. Her hair was tied up, messy and loose, with pieces falling into her face. She was barefoot, and grinning to herself about God knows what. She looked happy.

And for some reason... that just about knocked the wind outta me.

I didn't mean to stare, but hell, I did.

She didn't know I was there yet, and I wasn't sure I wanted to interrupt her—just stood there like a fool, watching.

Until the old floorboard beneath my foot gave a soft creak.

She whipped around fast, her eyes wide and alert. Caught in the act like a kid stealing cookies.

"Oh, hey," she said, blinking, a smear of flour on her cheek.

"Mornin'," I said, voice lower than it should've been. "Smells like a whole bakery in here."

She smiled, sheepish. "I couldn't sleep, so... figured I'd cook a little something. Hope that's okay?"

I nodded, stepping into the room finally. "Yeah. 'Course. You are welcome to anythin' in this house." I said, "but you didn't have to cook for us."

"I wanted to," she said, brushing her hands on a towel. "It's kind of my love language."

I sat on the stool at the counter and looked at the spread she was still arranging. It felt like too much. Like it should've been for something bigger.

But she didn't look like she needed a reason. Just... wanted to give.

"You do this often?" I asked.

She glanced at me, brow raised. "Cook for people?"

"Yeah."

She shrugged, placing the muffins carefully in a basket. "I used to. For my mom. It made her feel better on her bad days. Made me feel better too."

There was a pause. Not a heavy one. Just enough to understand without needing to ask more.

"Well," I said, clearing my throat and nodding at the muffins, "damn good way to wake up. I'll give you that."

She laughed. And it hit me in the chest again. Like it always did.

"I hope you're hungry," she added.

"Starvin'," I said, tryin' to keep my voice steady. "Didn't eat much yesterday."

She glanced at me, concern flickerin' behind her eyes, and I looked away. I didn't want her readin' too much into me.

I leaned back on the stool, arms crossed, just watchin' her. Couldn't stop if I tried. That's when she turned and made her way over to me.

"Here," she said, holding something small in her hand.

She stood just a few feet away, her eyes bright, hopeful, her flour-dusted fingers cupped around one of those damn muffins she'd just pulled from the oven. The top was golden, still warm, steam curlin' from the soft break she'd made in the center to check if it was done.

"Try it," she said, lifting it toward me like it was some sacred offering.

I raised a brow.

"I promise I didn't poison this one," she said with a smirk. "I can't promise the others are safe."

I huffed a laugh. Couldn't help it. The way she looked up at me, eyes playful, chin tilted just a little higher than normal—she was teasin', but there was somethin' else there. Somethin' soft.

I glanced down at the muffin. Still warm. Her hand holdin' it steady, she didn't move. Just waited.

I leaned in slow, eyes locked with hers. She didn't look away either, not once. My breath caught for a second, then I sank my teeth into the bite she offered. Her fingers were close enough to graze my lip, and my hand twitched like it wanted to wrap around hers.

Then the flavor hit me.

Apple—sweet and sharp. Cinnamon—warm and spicy. The muffin was soft, like a memory you didn't know you still had. Vanilla lingered on the back of my tongue, and a bit of brown sugar crisped across the top, stickin' to my bottom lip just slightly.

I chewed slow.

"I think I'm fallin' in love." I said, but my eyes slightly widened at the realization of what I had just said.

Her breath hitched.

And then—God help me—she smiled.

Not the polite kinda smile she gave strangers. No. This one lit her up from the inside out. Made her eyes crinkle just a little. Made her nose scrunch, and her whole face softened like she'd just been told a secret she'd always wanted to hear.

And I swear right then and there, I never wanted to see anything but that smile again for the rest of my life.

I don't know what it was, maybe it was the flour on her cheek, the way she smelled like cinnamon and coffee and apples, or maybe it was just the quiet look she gave me like she saw through me...but I wanted to kiss her.

Badly.

More than I should.

I wanted to taste that smile. Feel her laugh against my mouth.

But she blinked and stepped back, clearing her throat like she'd just remembered we were still standing in my kitchen. "So... what's the plan for today? Since you're not working?"

I took a step back too, trying not to make it obvious I needed the space. My hands flexed at my sides. "Tommy's comin' by. Him and Maria—his wife. They're gonna bring their kid, Benji. Watch the game."

"Maria," she repeated, like she was tryin' to confirm somethin'.

"You watch football?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation, give myself somethin' else to focus on besides the feel of her so close.

She wrinkled her nose, biting her bottom lip. "No. I mean, I've tried. But I don't understand it. At all. Too many lines and yelling."

I chuckled. "That's 'cause you've been watchin' with the wrong folks. I could teach you....if you want."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Would you be patient with me?"

I smirked. "I'd try not to yell at you like the guys on TV, if that's what you're askin'."

She stared at me then, eyes dark and curious, lips parted just slightly like she was weighing something else behind the words. And in that stretch of silence, the tension between us grew heavy again like  humidity before a storm.

"I might take you up on that," she said finally, voice low, soft.

Something in my gut twisted.

I nodded once. "Anytime."

She smiled again, but smaller this time.

And then she turned away, and I was left standing there in the kitchen, wondering how the hell a girl with apple muffins and sad eyes had gotten into my blood stream so damn fast.

I stayed rooted where I was, hands in my pockets, pretending to breathe like normal.

But everything about her wasn't normal.

She moved like she belonged here. Like this kitchen had always been hers. That soft sway of her body as she moved between counter and oven, the sunlight catching in her hair just enough to make it glow. She didn't know it, but I was memorizing the curve of her smile. The way she tapped her fingers along the countertop to the rhythm of the music.

I had no business watchin' her the way I was.

But I did.

I couldn't help it.

Then—footsteps padded down the hallway, slow and lazy.

Sarah appeared, hair a mess and hoodie too big for her shoulders. She looked half asleep and completely content.

"Mmm," she moaned, dragging a hand across her face. "It smells so damn good in here. I'm starving."

Y/N turned and beamed at her. "Sit. Coffee's hot, muffins are warm, bacon's almost done."

Sarah collapsed into the chair, mumbling something like angel from heaven under her breath while clutching her phone to her chest.

The second that screen lit up, she perked up. I could tell by the twitch of her mouth that it was him—Mason.

She looked up at Y/N, hopeful. "Mason just texted. Asked if I had any plans today."

I felt Y/N's gaze slide toward Sarah, interest peaking in her face. "Tell him to come over," she said casually, flippin' a strip of bacon in the pan. "Game's on. Easy excuse."

Sarah bit her lip, clearly nervous, but typed anyway.

I sipped my coffee, tryin' not to listen. Tryin' being the key word.

A moment passed, then her phone buzzed again. She let out a breathless, excited laugh.

"He said he'd love to," she said, looking up at Y/N, her eyes wide with disbelief. "But... he's got a friend with him. He doesn't wanna leave him hangin'."

Y/N stopped what she was doing for a moment, "tell him to bring him. I mean I can keep him company or something."

Sarah's eyes lit up. "You sure?" She asked.

Y/N chuckled but nodded. "Yeah I don't mind."

"Oh my god what if you two hit it off? What if he's cute?!"

I froze.

Just for a second.

Sarah kept going. "We could double date and everything!"

A low hum started in my ears.

Double dates.

Y/N. With him.

That same smile she gave me this morning, the laugh she gave me on the Ferris wheel, the way she looked when I bit into that muffin like I was the only man in the world—she'd give that to someone else?

I didn't like that.

No, I hated that.

My stomach knotted. Something dark and unfamiliar twisted in my chest. I didn't even know the guy and I wanted to knock his teeth out already.

Jesus Christ.

Was I... jealous?

That couldn't be right. I was too old for this kinda childish shit.

But the feelin' was there anyway, diggin' in like splinters under my skin. I could feel it rising—tight in my chest, heat crawl across the back of my neck.

I set my coffee down a little too hard on the counter.

Both Y/N and Sarah looked at me.

"You okay?" Y/N asked gently, her eyes searching my face.

I forced a nod, clenched my jaw. "Yeah. Just remembered I gotta check the garage before Tommy gets here."

And I walked out before I said somethin' I'd regret. Before I could look at Y/N again and see her considerin' someone else. Before I had to sit there and listen to more plans that didn't involve me.

I didn't know what to do, but I needed to be somewhere I could breathe.

I needed space.

Because if that boy walked through my front door and laid eyes on her the way I had—God help me—I wasn't sure what I'd do.

—————

Part seven

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies Part 5

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

A/N: I already have 15 chapters for this. But idk if I’ll post it all. I just really love a slow burn with Joel so much!! 😭

The sky had faded into a soft indigo, the last hints of daylight caught in streaks of lavender and gold across the horizon.

If a postcard came to life, it'd be this place.

The Christmas tree farm was glowing under a blanket of string lights, each row of pine trees lit from beneath like they were part of some quiet fairytale. The air smelled like fresh-cut fir, spiced cider, and wood smoke. Every direction I looked, there were families bundled in scarves and beanies, holding hands, carrying trees, laughing. There was a merry-go-round, a tiny ice rink, reindeer rides, and even an old Ferris wheel turning slowly near the back, like something out of a vintage movie.

Sarah bumped my shoulder. "Told you. This place is like Stars Hollow threw up."

"It really is," I grinned, taking it all in.

Joel trailed behind us quietly, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, boots crunching along the gravel path.

We spent the first part of the evening looking for a tree, Sarah elbowing Joel every time he passed on a perfectly decent one.

"You're impossible," she said, laughing. "We are not building the Rockefeller tree in our living room, Dad."

"Just pick one that ain't got holes in it," he muttered.

Eventually, we did. A big Douglas Fir that smelled like Christmas itself.

"Atta girl," he said, tossing Sarah the saw. "Your turn this year."

She groaned dramatically but got on her knees and started sawing at the trunk, grunting, while I filmed her struggling, laughing and cursing the tree under her breath.

And Joel? He just held the trunk steady, one boot planted at the base, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Watching him made my heart ache a little. Not in a sad way—more like the way you ache after a song that hits too close to home.

Later, Sarah and I hit the ice rink. I hadn't skated in years, and my legs wobbled beneath me like Bambi learning to walk, but I laughed so hard I didn't care. Joel stayed at the edge, leaning on the railing. His dark eyes following our every move like he was waiting to catch me if I fell, without ever stepping onto the ice.

He was always right there, but never too close. Close enough to feel, never enough to touch.

We grabbed some hot cocoa after that; warming my frozen hands against the paper cup, smiling at the marshmallows floating on top.

Sarah led me through the rest of the farm, pointing out people she knew; old neighbors, old teachers, even someone who'd once babysat her. She glowed like she belonged to this place. And maybe she did.

Then came the moment that shifted everything.

"Mason?" Sarah stopped mid-step, blinking at the tall guy in a flannel and Carhartt beanie standing near the Ferris wheel line.

"Holy shit. Sarah Miller?" He grinned. "I thought that was you."

"Mason!" she laughed, stepping in for a quick hug. "God, how long has it been?"

"Since our grad night," he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "You look great."

Joel, just behind them, visibly stiffened at the way the guy's eyes lingered a little too long on his daughter.

They caught up briefly, light banter, a few inside jokes. I noticed the way Sarah's eyes glistened, lighting up every time she looked at him. It was so obvious she liked him, but she kept her cool. Then Mason nodded toward the Ferris wheel. "You remember when we used to ride that thing like five times in a row? Just to get the top seat?"

Sarah laughed, a little awkward. "Yeah. I remember."

"Wanna go again? For old time's sake?"

She hesitated, then glanced over to me. "I probably shouldn't—"

"Go," I smiled.

Sarah raised a brow. "You sure?"

"I'll be fine," I said, waving her off. "Go relive your teenage glory."

Sarah rolled her eyes but grinned and gave Joel a quick look before heading off with Mason toward the line.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching the lights of the Ferris wheel spin in slow circles. He stood beside me, quiet, still, like always.

"You havin' fun?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

I looked up at him. Surprised that he initiated the conversation first. "Yeah. It's beautiful here."

He nodded once. "Sarah lives for this. Always has. Christmas season... it's her favorite."

"She lights up when she talks about it," I said softly. "It's sweet."

Something shifted in his expression then. Just a flicker.

"You don't talk much about your folks."

My smile faded. I wasn't expecting that. Most people didn't ask. Or if they did, they didn't really care to know. But Joel wasn't like most people.

Talking about my mom hasn't been my strong suit since...

"There's not a whole lot to talk about."

He shifted just slightly, his gaze locked onto me as he crossed his arms over his chest. Usually I'd drop it here, change the subject. Anything then bringing up my family. But for some reason, I felt like I could talk to him about anything.

"It was just me and my mom," I said quietly, after a long beat. My breath clouded in front of me in the cool air, soft and slow. "Always. My whole life."

Joel's eyes stayed steady on mine as he gave a slow nod. "And... she okay with you skipping out on the holidays this year?"

I looked down at my cocoa. The whipped cream had already started to melt. "She passed away. Four years ago."

I said it flat, the way you rip off a bandage—fast and without looking. There's never a right time to say something like that. Never a comfortable way to bring it up. I hated how it always changed the air, how it always made people go quiet or look at me like I was breakable. But it was the truth. She was gone. And no amount of pretending otherwise would ever change that.

"Breast cancer," I added, barely above a whisper. My fingers tightened around the cup, chasing the fading warmth. I blinked down, fighting the familiar sting in the back of my eyes.

Joel leaned on the railing beside me, his shoulder close to mine, but he didn't say anything yet. Didn't rush to fill the silence or tell me he was sorry. I was grateful for that.

"Were you two close?" he finally asked, voice low and rough like gravel, but gentle.

I swallowed hard. My throat tightened before I managed to get the words out. "She was... everything."

The breath caught in my chest before I forced it down and kept going. "She was my best friend. My safe place. We did everything together. She taught me how to ride a bike, helped me study for every test, stayed up watching movies with me when I couldn't sleep. But her favorite thing—our favorite thing—was baking."

I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. Not a big one, just enough to warm the ache.

"Cookies, muffins... but her apple pie?" I let out a small laugh. "One bite and you'd swear it could solve world peace."

I didn't say how I still kept her recipe in a little stained index card tucked in my journal. I didn't say how I still made that pie every year, even if I didn't eat it.

Joel didn't speak right away. His gaze drifted toward the Ferris wheel, lights blinking in soft reds and golds against the darkening sky.

"You scared of heights?" he asked suddenly, nodding toward it.

The question pulled me back, sharp and unexpected. I followed his gaze, heart still aching, but a little lighter somehow.

I tilted my head. "Nope. Are you?"

He glanced down at me, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth; barely there but real. His expression was unreadable, as always, but something in his eyes flickered, amused. Or curious.

"Nope," he said again, echoing my tone, and held my gaze a second longer than necessary.

Then he reached out; rough, warm fingers curling around mine. The world stopped around us and we were the only ones alive. My breath caught in the back of my throat. His hand was calloused and firm, the kind of grip that made you feel anchored. I didn't even realize I'd gone still until he gave the tiniest tug.

"Come on."

He led the way, weaving us through the small crowd. And I let him. I couldn't stop the flutter in my chest, or the warmth crawling up my neck. I didn't want to.

He handed over two tickets without even looking at me, then motioned for me to go first.

I stepped onto the ride, heartbeat in my throat, and slid into the seat. Joel followed, slipping in beside me and suddenly we were shoulder to shoulder, thighs pressed against one another, the cold seat doing nothing to cool the heat between us.

The bar lowered. The ride jolted forward.

And I didn't know what scared me more. How high we were climbing...

Or how much I didn't want to pull away from him.

The cart rocked gently as we settled in, cold metal against my legs even through my jeans. The night air bit at my cheeks, but the cold was sharp in a way that made everything feel a little more alive.

The lights below shimmered like a sea of fireflies—twinkling booths, the blue glow of the ice rink, shadows skating in circles, kids darting through rows of trees with cups of cocoa in mittened hands. From up here, the whole farm looked unreal, like something you could fold up and tuck into your coat pocket.it was beautiful.

But all I could feel was the warmth of Joel beside me—solid, quiet, and taking up way too much space for someone trying not to be noticed.

I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye. He hadn't said much since we sat down, which honestly wasn't surprising.

"So..." I drew the word out, turning toward him. "What do you do when Sarah's away at school? Besides read newspapers and brood?"

His lips tugged just slightly at the corner—almost a smile. Almost. "I work."

"Clearly." I nodded, grinning. "But doing what?"

"Construction," he said simply. "I run a company with my younger brother. Tommy. We mostly do pretty much anything; custom builds, remodels, that sort of thing. It's not much, but it keeps the lights on."

Something about the way he said it made my heart tug a little. Like he didn't think it was worth much. But also... it felt steady.

I smirked. "Of course you do. I should've guessed."

Joel raised a brow, suspicious. "Should've guessed what?"

"You're such a grumpy old blue-collar type. I bet you drink your coffee black, fix things without ever reading instructions, and complain about 'kids these days' on a regular basis."

That earned me a look; but this time, the smile actually broke through. Small. Real.

"Shut up," he muttered.

I gasped. "Oh my God, was that a smile? Did I just witness an actual Joel Miller smile?"

"It was not a smile."

"Holy crap, you do have more emotions than just broody!" I said, eyes wide, hand to my heart in mock shock.

He huffed a small laugh under his breath, shaking his head. "You're real mouthy for someone stuck on a ride with no exit."

"You love it," I teased, shrugging my shoulders.

Joel didn't respond right away, but the corner of his mouth still curved up like he couldn't quite fight it.

"And what about you? I bet I can guess what you're majoring in." he said, turning the tables

I narrowed my eyes. "Oh, this'll be good."

"You like books. I saw a few books in your bag. You overthink everything. Noticed that at the cafe when you were hiding from—what was his name again?"

"Dylan." I said with a smirk.

"Yeah that asshat. You like to talk a lot. So... psych major?"

I laughed—like, really laughed. "That's... honestly not a bad guess."

"But wrong?"

"Wrong," I confirmed. "English literature."

He nodded slowly, like it made sense. "Should've known."

"What gave it away? My over thinking or my inability to shut up?"

His mouth twitched again. "Both."

I beamed. "You're not bad at this, Miller. If the whole construction thing goes under, you could be a therapist for emotionally repressed men who only communicate through silence and beer."

Joel gave a quiet chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

The conversation rolled so easily after that, like we'd somehow slipped into a rhythm that was just... ours. Laughter. Teasing. The kind of warmth that crept in slow but deep, settling under your skin before you even noticed.

But as we neared the end of the ride, I felt him pull back. Not physically, but the quiet returned. The tension. Like he'd suddenly remembered himself.

I glanced up at him, trying not to feel the cold where the warmth had been just moments ago.

When we stepped off, I looked at him one last time, heart thudding for reasons I didn't really want to name.

"I really like talking to you," I said softly, more vulnerable than I meant to be. "Even if you barely talk."

Joel opened his mouth, like he might say something back—but then—

"Y/N!" Sarah's voice rang out, cutting through the air.

She bounded toward us, grabbing my arm with a grin. "Sorry for ditching you."

And just like that, I was pulled away—leaving Joel standing there under the lights, silent again.

But I swore, just before I turned around...

He was still watching me.

Sarah looped her arm through mine and practically skipped us over to the reindeer ride. Everything was glowing now; twinkle lights draped along fences, lampposts wrapped like candy canes, the faint sound of sleigh bells in the distance. The scent of pine and cinnamon hung sweet and heavy in the air.

"I can't believe Mason was here," Sarah said, beaming. "That was so random. I haven't seen him since high school."

I raised a brow. "He looked happy to see you."

She blushed, eyes flicking to the ground like it might hide the grin she couldn't suppress. "Yeah... I always had the biggest crush on him back then. Like huge. But I was a total chicken. He dated older girls, and I was awkward and always had dirt on my face from softball."

I snorted. "You? Awkward? No way."

"Oh, I was a mess," she said with a dramatic sigh. "By the time I was brave enough to maybe say something, he graduated. I figured that was it. End of story."

I leaned into her a little. "But maybe not. He asked how long you were in town..."

Her smile softened. "Yeah. He said maybe we could hang out before I go back. Just catch up or whatever."

"Sarah," I said, tugging her to a stop. "You have to do it."

She blinked. "Do what?"

"Go. See him. Hang out. Flirt. Do whatever feels right. I mean, what are the odds? You run into him after years. Fate has a funny way of giving second chances when you least expect it."

She was quiet for a beat, then her voice came out soft. "I don't know..." she drawled out. "What if I make a fool out of myself or he doesn't feel the same way or—"

"Or what if he does?" I cut her off before she spiraled into her own negative thoughts. "You'll never know unless you try."

Sarah pondered her thoughts for just a moment. Her expression almost mirrored the way Joel's did whenever he thought to himself. It was uncanny.

"Fine. I'll do it if you promise to give this place a real shot. No Dylan. No school. Just be in this moment. With me."

I wasn't sure if being in the moment would be a good idea. Now that whatever I was feeling for Joel was now growing more and more...

No. I'm not having feelings for my best friends dad. I'm not.

I met her gaze and forced a smile. "Promise."

She let out a sigh and squeezed my arm just slightly as she continued to walk toward the truck. "Sorry for ditching you with my dad. That was a little shitty of me."

I waved her off, pretending my heart hadn't nearly beat out of my chest the entire ride. "It's fine. We talked. A little."

"I know he can come off kind of... cold," she said with a laugh. "And a little bit of a dick. But he's not. He's just quiet. Doesn't like small talk or people in general, but he's solid, ya know? Like once you're in with him, you're in."

I wanted to ask her so many questions. Questions like if he were seeing anyone? Has he seen anyone? What are his interests? Etc., but I didn't. I couldn't.

I need to push whatever I was feeling aside because nothing could ever come of this. Of us. I couldn't do that to Sarah. Or to Joel.

—————

By the time we got home, it was late. The moon was high, the night cold enough to bite through our coats. Joel hauled the tree from the back of his truck, thick gloves on his hands, flannel rolled up just enough to show strong forearms that made it very difficult not to stare.

Sarah and I headed into the garage to dig through the shelves for the bins marked Christmas.

"I swear," she muttered, yanking down a dusty red tub, "he keeps everything like it's a museum in here."

The minute we walked back in, Sarah lit the fireplace, throwing the whole room into a golden glow, and queued up a playlist on her phone. The first notes of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree filled the living room, and something inside me fluttered like I was ten years old again, decorating with my mom. Something I haven't felt in a long time.

We opened bins and pulled out old ornaments, twinkling lights, garland, a crocheted stocking with Sarah's name stitched in red thread.

The scent of pine filled the house as he anchored the tree into its stand and stepped back, hands on his hips.

"Not crooked," he muttered.

"A Christmas miracle," Sarah teased.

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

The three of us moved in a quiet rhythm after that. Sarah humming along to the music, Joel sorting through the tangled lights, me fluffing branches. The tension between Joel and me was subtle but pulsing—charged. Every time I turned, I felt his eyes on me. Every time I laughed, he lingered a little closer.

We reached for the same branch at one point, hands brushing, fingertips grazing.

I froze.

He didn't move away.

It was just a second; a flicker, but something warm bloomed between us like heat from the fire.

"Hey!" Sarah said suddenly, pulling out a sad-looking ornament made of macaroni and glitter. "Remember this?"

Joel smirked. "You were six. Ate half the glue."

Sarah cracked up. "I did not!"

He raised a brow. "You cried when it didn't taste like marshmallow."

Their laughter bounced through the room and I watched him; really watched him. Joel Miller, the man who barely spoke above a grunt, was relaxed and smiling, eyes soft as he looked at his daughter.

God, he loved her. It radiated off of him.

"I'm gonna grab the star," Sarah said, darting toward the garage. "It's in the green bin we missed!"

And just like that, it was quiet again. Just Joel and me.

The only sound was the crackle of the fireplace and the rustle of pine branches as I adjusted an ornament near the top of the tree.

Joel stood across from me, winding a strand of gold garland in slow, thoughtful loops around the lower branches.

I hummed under my breath, a Christmas tune Sarah had been playing earlier that got stuck in my head. I didn't even realize I was doing it until I caught him watching me.

I turned slowly, raising a brow. "I can feel you staring."

He cleared his throat and looked away too quickly, like he'd been caught red-handed. "Just admiring the tree," he said, a little too casually. "It's not bad."

I stepped back to scan the tree myself, arms crossed, eyes flicking over the soft lights and scattered ornaments. "So," I said, "do you guys have any other Christmas traditions?"

Joel reached for the last of the garland and shrugged. "We do what most folks do, I guess. Cookies. Movie marathons. We used to try carolin' once, years ago, but Sarah was tone deaf at five and insisted on singing every verse of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas.'"

I laughed. "So that got retired quick, huh?"

"Let's just say the neighbors begged us to stop."

I grinned and leaned slightly against the couch arm. "Any other small-town traditions I should know about? Hidden secret snow rituals? Sacrifices to the Santa gods?"

He gave me a sideways look like I'd lost my mind but shook his head with a faint smile. "We ain't that kind of town."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Bummer."

"We do have a holiday ball. Two nights before Christmas every year. Local community center hosts it."

My eyebrows lifted. "A ball? Like, actual dancing and everything?"

He nodded. "Pretty big deal around here. Music, food, everyone shows up. Been goin' on since I was a kid."

"People dance?"

"Yeah."

I tilted my head, eyeing him playfully. "Do you dance?"

"No."

"Not even a little sway here and there?"

He didn't even blink. "No."

I let out a dramatic sigh and pressed a hand over my chest. "Damn. And here I was hoping you'd save a dance for me."

He looked at me then, really looked, and for a second, I couldn't breathe.

His eyes didn't hold any obvious answer, but they lingered a little longer than they should've. Just long enough to send that flutter through my stomach again.

Then the door flew open and Sarah reappeared, holding a large storage box in her arms. "Finally found the star," she huffed. "You really need to downsize on the crap you save, I swear. There's, like, five green bins in there labeled 'miscellaneous.'"

Joel glanced away from me, clearing his throat again, as if nothing had passed between us. As if my pulse hadn't just stuttered from a single look.

But I felt it.

——————

Part six here

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies part 4

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one | Part Two | Part Three

A/N : I might stop posting this story idk haha.

Your POV

The drive from the airport is quiet—too quiet. Like the kind that wraps around your throat and squeezes.

The air smells like cedar and smoke and the faint promise of firewood, and somehow it fits him.

Joel.

Sarah's dad.

The man currently driving his old, beat-up Chevy pickup down a winding country road, while Sarah sat in the passenger seat, feet on the dashboard, singing along to the song playing through the radio.

I'm tucked into the back seat with my bag pressed against my knees, trying not to feel every inch of the quiet tension stretching between me and Joel. It's not hostile, exactly. Just... heavy. Like everything unsaid is sitting in the cab with us, taking up too much space.

He drives like he does everything else; controlled, steady, not a single wasted movement. The calluses on his hands grip the steering wheel like it's something alive.

I sneak glances at him through the rear view mirror, and every time...his eyes are already on me. Fleeting stares but still forces a wave of heat down my body to my stomach.

I hate this. I hate that I feel this way. For someone I barely know, and should even care about. He makes me feel like I'm walking across a frozen pond and one wrong word might crack it open and I'll drown.

The road narrows and bends, the fields giving way to scattered trees and rusted fences. Then, just as we begin to pull into the driveway, there it was.

Joel's house.

It wasn't small, but it wasn't the kind of place with winding hallways or cathedral ceilings either. It was comfortable. The kind of place that looked like it had been built with intention. A wide porch, and thick wooden beams.

The house stood two stories tall, painted a soft white that had faded in the Texas sun to something closer to cream. The shutters were a forest green, chipped at the edges.

There wasn't any Christmas decorations, not a single string of lights or wreath in sight. But Sarah didn't seem surprised.

"You know you can decorate without me." She said to her dad.

Joel parks and cuts the engine, "if I had it my way, I wouldn't decorate at all."

Sarah rolled her eyes as she hopped out of the truck, stretching with a dramatic sigh. "I'm starving. Please tell me we're ordering pizza."

The air is cooler than I expected, fresh and clean in a way that makes California feel dusty and far away.

I held the strap of my bag, staring at the house in front of me. My home for a month and a half.

It was breath taking.

"Once I get your things into the house, I'll head over to John's Pizzeria and grab the usual." He said, grabbing our bags from the bed of the truck before I could offer to help.

I noticed the way his shirt slightly rides up, revealing a hint of his hip and the worn leather belt he's definitely had for a decade. And I wanted more.

"Don't forget the pineapple this time." She scowled at him.

"I won't, I promise."

I followed her up the porch steps, the old wood groaning under our boots. Joel unlocked the door and pushed it open with his shoulder.

Inside, the house was warm in a rugged, lived-in kind of way. The entryway opened into a large living room with wide planked hardwood floors and a stone fireplace on the far wall. The hearth was bare, no stockings or garlands yet, but there was an old dusted flag framed above it, and a worn brown leather armchair sitting like a throne at an angle to the fire. I could picture him there—staring into the flames, probably reading his news paper.

I couldn't help but chuckle to myself at the thought.

A wide couch sat opposite the fireplace, the kind you could stretch out on for a Sunday nap, and an old quilt was tossed over the back like someone had actually used it, not just for decoration. The coffee table was solid oak, the surface scratched in a few places and holding a coaster with a ring from a recent drink.

To the right, a large archway led into the kitchen, open-concept, with dark wood cabinets, matte black fixtures, and a row of cast iron pans hanging over the stove. It was all very him.

"Guest room's down that hall, last door on the right," Joel said gruffly behind me.

I glanced back at him and caught his eye for a moment before he looked away like he hadn't meant to. His voice was always low and slow, dipped in Texas molasses, and somehow it still made my heart skip, even when he was giving directions like I was a lost UPS driver.

"Thanks," I murmured. My gaze lingering on him a little moment longer.

"Come on, I'll show you around!" Sarah said pulling me toward her.

I trail behind Sarah as she gives me a quick tour, chatting the whole time like she's trying to fill every second with noise. I let her talk, nodding along, my mind still caught on Joel.

The floor creaked softly underfoot. The hallway walls were dotted with framed photos; Sarah at different ages, a few fishing shots, one of Joel in his younger years with a dog at his feet and the same stern expression he wore now.

"The bathroom is just across from you and my bedroom is the second door past the stairs." She said. "I need to unpack and change out of these clothes real quick but if you need me, just come to my room."

I nodded and flashed a soft smile as I watched Sarah turn and disappear down the hallway. The guest room door eased shut behind me with a quiet click, and just like that—I was alone.

My room.

For the next month and a half.

I let out a long, shaky breath and finally allowed myself to take it all in.

The guest room was simple. A full bed with a heavy wooden headboard, white sheets folded tight and neat. A dresser, an old nightstand, a little window looking out at the porch roof and trees beyond. It wasn't much, but it was warm. Quiet. Safe.

As much as I'd dreaded the idea of being here in Texas...standing here now, in this quiet room that smelled faintly of cedar and clean laundry, I couldn't help the soft wave of peace that rolled through me.

Maybe this wasn't just a break. Maybe this was a fresh start.

I was just about to unzip my bag when a sudden knock startled me. My heart leapt a little, and I turned toward the door just as it creaked open.

There he was.

Joel.

Leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. One shoulder against the wood, arms crossed over his broad chest, sleeves pushed to his elbows, and that unreadable expression on his face.

My breath caught somewhere in my throat.

"Sorry it's not much," he said, his voice low and steady, eyes flicking around the room before landing back on me.

I swallowed and shook my head. "N-no. It's..." I paused, taking a breath, letting the quiet wash over me. "It's perfect."

He nodded once but didn't move.

The silence stretched between us. Awkward and heavy and warm all at once. He didn't look away. And for a second, I felt pinned in place by the weight of his stare.

I waited for him to say something else. Anything. And just when I thought he'd turn and walk off, he spoke.

"Sorry about earlier."

My brows furrowed. "Earlier?"

His jaw flexed as he exhaled slowly, like dragging the words out physically hurt. "The part where I said you looked... complicated."

Oh. That.

I blinked, not sure what to say.

He shifted, uncrossing his arms, like the weight of this conversation made him suddenly restless.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said, too quickly now, like the words were tumbling out before he could stop them. "Sarah's had a hard time makin' real friends. She's gotten close with people before and ended up hurtin'. Or bein' hurt. Either way, it's always messy. And I didn't wanna... start somethin' she'd overthink or get stuck on."

I blinked, surprised. I hadn't expected that. Not from the man who barely looked at me on the drive here.

He rubbed the back of his neck like the words cost him something. "She was so excited you agreed to come home with her for break. I didn't wanna give her a reason to second-guess it."

"But why would she second-guess it?" I asked, genuinely confused. "It's not like that was a real date or anything...”

The words came out too casually. Too lightly.

And yet, the second they left my mouth, something tightened in my chest.

Joel's gaze flicked to mine, but there was nothing in his face. No reaction. He just nodded.

"Right," he said simply. "It wasn't."

His jaw worked—tightening, then easing—as he drew in a long breath. His eyes dropped to the floor for the briefest second before lifting back to mine. "Anyway, sorry again."

I flashed a soft smile, feeling my heart pound profusely in my chest but I decided to ignore it. Instead I let out a breath and shrugged. "It's okay, you don't know me...yet."

Joel nodded, and without a word, he took a step back and closed the door behind him. The sound of his footsteps against the wooden floor slowly faded and he was gone.

This was going to be a long month and a half.

————————

Joel's POV

My truck rumbled down the quiet backroad toward my house, the pizza box on the passenger seat doing little to distract me from the mess of thoughts swarming my head. I shifted in my seat, one hand gripping the wheel tighter than it needed to. The sun had dipped low, throwing the sky into dusky golds and bruised purples. But even the view did nothing to settle the low burn under my skin.

I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't stop thinking about her. About Y/N.

The damn flower dress and messy bun. The sunbeam of a smile. The way she talked too much and too fast and didn't seem to notice the brick wall of silence I kept wrapped around myself like armor. Or worse...she noticed and didn't give a damn.

It had only been a few hours since we arrived from California. Sarah's final winter break before graduation. I was ready to fly with my daughter back home, even when plans changed and she decided to invite her roommate. What I wasn't ready for was her. The same girl who crashed my table that morning, uninvited. Playing along when her jerk of an ex walked up. Slipped right into the role with no hesitation.

"Shes doin' fine, ain't that right darlin'?"

Sounding too damn convincing for my own comfort.

I thought that was the end of it. A strange encounter that I could file away and forget. But here I am. Driving back to my house where my daughter and her roommate are waiting for their dinner. Her roommate who happens to be the same stranger in that cafe.

She looks so soft, so light. Like the kind of girl you didn't touch unless your hands were clean, which mine had never been clean.

And she was my daughter's best friend, for Christ's sake.

I pulled into the driveway slower than usual, headlights flicking across the front window. Music blasted from inside, some country pop garbage rattling the walls that made my jaw tick. I groaned under my breath as I stepped out of the truck and grabbed the pizza.

But when I opened the door, the irritation died in my throat.

The living room looked like chaos. Furniture slightly pushed back, string lights blinking in the corner, and there they were...Sarah and Y/N. Spinning, laughing, and singing off-key like they didn't have a single care in the world. Sarah was in an oversized sweater and socks, arms flailing as she sang into a wooden spoon. And Y/N...

Christ.

Y/N was dancing with both hands in the air, eyes closed, face lit with that sunshine smile that always seemed to undo me. Her hips swayed to the beat, loose and carefree, and it felt like the air left my lungs. She looked like trouble.

Y/N caught sight of me, her face lighting up and I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect me in any way.

"Joel!" she calls out, still breathless, still glowing. "Come dance with us!"

Sarah turns, spots me too. "Yeah, come on, old man!"

I shake my head, firm. "Not a chance.”

Before either of them could protest, I stepped over to the stereo and paused the damn song. Silence dropped like a curtain. Then I held up the pizza. "Food's here."

They laugh and follow me into the kitchen. Sarah slid into one of the chairs at the table, already reaching for a slice, while Y/N padded in behind her; quiet, but not really. Even her silence had a way of filling the room. She moved like sunlight drifting through blinds, slow and soft.

I crack open a beer, the hiss of carbonation oddly loud in the quiet. They began talking over each other about the Christmas tree farm Sarah wants to visit tomorrow. Decorations. Hot cocoa. Ornaments. Y/N says something about stringing lights across the porch and Sarah gasps like it's the best idea she's ever heard.

I nodded in all the right places. Took slow pulls from my beer. But I wasn't hearing half the damn conversation.

All I could focus on was the way she laughed around a bite of pizza, completely unaware of the way it affected me. The way she leans in when Sarah talks, like she's not just hearing her; she's listening. Present. Open. The way she brushed  sauce off her bottom lip with her thumb.

God help me, I want to lean over and lick the damn sauce off her lips. I wanted to taste her laughter, memorize the curve of her smile, ask her a hundred quiet questions and press my mouth to the answer every time.

I shift in my seat, bite back the urge.

This is wrong.

She's Sarah's best friend.

I clear my throat and push up from the table. "I'm gonna call it a night."

Sarah looked up. "You sure? We were gonna put on a movie—"

"Y'all go ahead." I cut her off before she could try to convince me otherwise.

Y/N met my eyes. "Goodnight, Joel," she said softly, like she meant it.

I nodded once. But said nothing.

I made it to my  room, shut the door behind me and leaned back against it like it was the only thing holding me up. My heart was pounding, stomach tight, throat dry.

What the hell was I doing?

She's twenty-six. My daughter's roommate. Complicated, sure—but not in the way I first thought. She wasn't trouble.

I was.

And if I didn't pull myself together soon, I was going to do something real stupid, something I wouldn't be able to take back.

—————

Part five here

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies Part 3

Joel Miller x reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part One | Part Two

A/N : hope you’re enjoying this little fic so far! Please leave feedback <3

Your POV

It didn't take too long for me to pack my suitcase. Jeans, knitted sweaters, dresses, and long sleeves. But as I folded the last few items, I stood there lost in my thoughts.

Thoughts that somehow lingered back to Joel. Coffee guy.

His broad shoulders. His salt and pepper wavy hair. The way his calloused hand felt against mine. His deep, southern accent. Just the thought of him made my stomach flutter.

Why was I standing here remembering every feature of his face? A man I had only known a few hours ago.

It didn't even matter, because I know if I had spent four years here and never ran into him until now? I'll never run into him again. It wasnt unusual to see the same faces around town. But his? I had never seen it before. There's no way I could possibly see him again.

That's not how fate worked.

"My dad should be here any minute to take us to the airport." Sarah, my roommate and best friend for the past four years, said.

I turned to her, scrunching my brows together. "Your dad flew here from Texas, just to fly back with you?"

She sighed, and nodded. "He's a little over protective. And doesn't help that I might have gotten lost one time and missed my flight." She chuckled. "And now he won't trust me to fly alone ."

I let out a soft laugh, the memory of that day resurfacing. She called me in a full panic, not being able to board her flight due to being late, and it was her first year without her dad. But he managed to get a last minute flight the next day to come get her himself.

That thought made my smile fade.

There was a part of me that quietly envied her for having someone in her life who would drop everything with no hesitation, just to be there.

It made me think of my mom.

"This is insane." I mumbled, plopping my sweater on top of the other clothes in my suitcase.

"What's insane?" Sarah asked.

"That I'm flying to Texas with my roommate, to visit her family who I know nothing about. I mean—I don't even know what to do out there."

"First off, my family is small. Mostly just me and my dad, unless uncle Tommy and Maria come visit with my cousin Benji." She said, shoving a pair of socks in her bag. "But it'll be fun! We can go to the Christmas tree farm. They have hot cocoa, ice skating, Santa's reindeer train, and a Ferris wheel. Plus, my dad never decorates until I get there. So we'll get a tree and decorate together!"

"That actually sounds amazing." I said, smiling to myself. It sounded like a real Christmas. Something I hadn't had in a long time. Not even when I spent my holidays with Dylan and his family. They didn't like to over due it with gifts or decorations. They enjoyed traveling to places that weren't cold and had lots of alcohol.

"It's so magical. But if it's not, at least you'll get to hang out with me, and I'm pretty great."

We both tilted our heads back and laughed in unison. Until a firm knock echoed from the door.

Sarah glanced at her phone before tossing it on to her bed, making her way over. "That's probably my dad. He is gonna help us take our bags to the car."

I nodded, leaning over to zip up my suitcase, mentally preparing for the flight.

Until a voice spoke. Deep, familiar, rough in that way that made chills cover me completely.

My heart dropped.

Joel. Newspaper Joel. Coffee guy.

Broad shoulders under a worn beige button up. The same eyes that had held mine in the cafe. The same man that called me darlin' and made my skin buzz with just a look.

He wasn't just a figment of my imagination. He was here. Standing in the door. Real, tangible, and Sarah's dad.

Our eyes met, and suddenly my breath caught in my throat.

Joel's body stiffened just slightly enough to barely notice. Long enough for recognition to flicker behind his guarded expression. Then it was gone.

"Dad, this is Y/N." Sarah smiled, oblivious. "My roommate I told you about."

Joel nodded, still holding my gaze. "Y/N." The way he spoke my name had felt empty compared to this morning. "Nice to meet you."

Nice to meet me? Did he forget this morning? The most embarrassing moment of my life?

"Y/N, this is Joel. My dad."

I swallowed hard, and forced a breathless smile. "Oh—nice to meet you too."

Sarah turned toward her side of the room. "I just need to grab my charger, then we can leave."

As soon as she walked over to her bed, Joel and I found our gaze locked on one another once again. Not a single word. Just a look. Steady, sharp, like he was studying my face for some reason I couldn't figure out why.

There were a million questions roaming through my mind. Did he really not remember me? Was I that insignificant for him to forget about me?

When all I have been doing was think about him...

I twisted at the hem of my long sleeve, tugging it down. I hate how nervous he made me feel. His silence made my stomach churn. We'd only met this morning. An offbeat encounter.

Yet, the way he looked at me now—like I was nothing but a stranger—left an ache in my chest.

Sarah threw her bag over her shoulder, completely unaware of the tension in the room. "Okay, I'm ready." She said just before pointing to another bag closer to the door. "Can you take that one to the car? It's too heavy for me."

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his weight as he leaned down to pick up the duffle bag. Which he did with little to no effort.

"Why don't you come down to the uber with me so we can get a move on." He asked his daughter.

"Yeah, okay." She turned back to me. "We'll be outside. Don't forget to lock up."

I could only nod in response. My mouth felt too dry to let out a single word.

As they stepped out, I caught a glance from Joel. It was fleeting, but it happened.

I exhaled a long sigh, trying to make sense of it all. Debating whether or not I should cancel last minute.

I could come up with some fabricated story. Maybe, my long lost relative called and wants to meet me? Or, maybe I could lie and tell them I landed an internship at a private practice?

No. There's no way Sarah would believe any of it. Besides, I already booked my flight. Money is too tight for me to waste it over something this ridiculous. What if he truly did forget and I'm making this out to be more than what it was?

"You can do this. It's just a month and a half." I mumbled to myself.

With that, I grabbed my suitcase and made my way down the stairs, the wheels bumping softly against each step. The cool air hit my face when I pushed open the front door of our building, and I spotted them just a few feet away from the curb.

Sarah stood with her arms crossed, while Joel lugged her bag into the trunk of the uber. And without realizing it, I slowed my steps.

"I just don't think it's the best idea." He said, voice low but not a whisper. "It's last minute. Long flight. I mean, how well do you even know this girl? She looks...."

He paused for a moment, catching a breath as he stood up and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "She looks complicated."

Complicated? The word hung in the air like smoke. Heat blooming in my chest, rising fast.

Sarah didn't miss a beat. "You're over thinking it. And you literally just met her. How does she look complicated? Y'know what? Never mind that. She's my best friend, and she's coming."

I stepped forward, my jaw clenched as I dragged my suitcase with a little more force than necessary. The sound of the plastic wheels against the concrete caught their attention.

My eyes fell on his, my gaze burning into him as I stepped forward.

"Alright, we should get going now so we don't miss our flight." Sarah said, sliding into the back seat of the car.

Joel cleared his throat like he swallowed something sharp. He reached down for my suitcase, his fingers brushed over mine for just a second too long. It felt as if something seeped through between us. Something thick with tension, and that same quiet pull that I couldn't name before.

I pulled my hand away, and stepped back an inch.

And I could see the way his jaw tightened, as he glanced down and pulled my suitcase to him.

"I got it." He mumbled. Just as he hoisted the bag into the trunk.

I slipped into the car next to Sarah, and shut the door. My heart hammering, pulsing in my ears.

I was going to Texas with my best friend. And my best friends dad. The man who called me darlin' and now thinks I'm too complicated.

What a great way to start winter break.

——————————

The hum of the plane surrounded us, soft like white noise. Sarah had claimed the window seat the second we stepped on board, leaving me to slide into the middle. Joel took the aisle seat without a word, his towering frame a solid wall of quiet tension beside me.

He hadn't looked in my direction since we left our dorm. Not when we checked in, not at the gate. Not even when he shared a bag of sour gummy worms with me and Sarah, while waiting to board.

But now, now he was only inches away. And I could feel every bit of it.

For the first hour of our flight, I shared earbuds with Sarah while we watched 'Never Been Kissed' on the little screen. I tried to focus on the movie, but my mind kept wandering to the man beside me. He was quiet, stoic but there was a weight to his presence.

His arms were crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button up were pushed up enough to reveal his thick forearms, tan and dusted lightly with dark hair. The veins along his arms stood out, prominent and defined, trailing down toward his strong, capable hands. With a few scars near his knuckles.

And he smelled amazing. Not like cologne, nothing fancy or synthetic.

Coffee, leather, the faintest traces of something like cedar. It was warm and grounded, the kind of scent you want to lean into without thinking.

I tried not to breathe him in, but it was hard not to.

Every so often, his knee would shift and brush against mine. The contact—brief—sent chills up and down my spine. I held my breath each time, unsure if it were intentional or not. If he even felt it at all.

After a while, Sarah had drifted to sleep. Her head leaned against the window, mouth slightly parted as her breath evened in slow little breaths.

The silence felt like torture. Almost unbearable. I glanced at Joel, who had barely moved. His jaw tight, eyes fixed on the dark screen in front of him. I couldn't take it anymore. I licked my lips, and swallowed the nerves rising in my throat.

"So..." my voice came out softer than I intended, though I tried not to wake Sarah up. "anything interesting in the news lately?"

His eyes flicked toward me, but didn't linger.

"What were you reading? Classifieds? Comics? Obituaries?" I leaned in a little closer than before.

Still no answer.

I would usually take the silence as a hint and give up. Turn my attention to my phone and pretend he wasn't there. But I didn't want this winter break to be so...whatever this was.

"Are you stalking me?" I asked, a playful smirk playing on my lips.

That got him.

He looked at me, slow as his eyes furrowed into confusion. The corners of his mouth twitched just slightly. "If anything, you're the one stalking me."

"I go there all the time, you on the other hand..."

"Ya sat at my table."

"Well, you didn't say no."

He glared at me for a moment and huffed. "Ya didn't give me a chance to answer."

"You could've told me to leave at any time."

"Didn't seem worth the energy." He shrugged.

I squinted my eyes at him and mirrored his pose. "Wow, you're charming."

Joel's gaze dropped to my lips then flicked back up. "You talk too much."

Heat began to radiate through my body, though I tried to ignore the feeling. "Is that suppose to be an insult?"

"Observation." He said, matter of fact.

In that moment, Joel turned his attention back to the black screen in front of him.

But I wasn't ready to end this conversation. Little as it was, I wanted more.

"Why'd you lie earlier?"

Joel didn't answer right away. His jaw tensed, the muscle twitching once before he slowly exhaled through his nose. There was a slight shift in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? I wasn't sure what it was.

"I didn't lie." He said quietly, almost like he wished I hadn't asked. "I just didn't...explain"

"You acted like we didn't meet this morning."

He leaned back into his seat, turning toward the window, looking at Sarah then back to me.

"She doesn't need to know everything." He muttered. "It's not exactly something worth mentioning."

Something twisted in my chest as his words played in my head. "Y-you mean, me? I'm not worth mentioning?"

"N-no. I mean that moment. This morning. No point dragging it into this trip. She'll never let it go and will ask a billion questions and I ain't in the mood to deal with it."

I let out a small breathy laugh, not out of amusement but clarity. Heat crawled up my throat as I nodded, masking the sting behind a tight smile.

"Right." I said, flatly. "Wouldn't want to make things complicated."

I didn't mean for the words to come out so cold, but it did.

'She looks...complicated.'

Something in his expression had changed, the stoic, unreadable mask he usually wore racked in this moment. Regret flashed across his face. He looked remorseful.

Good.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, and I was not ready to hear what he had to say.

I stood up too quickly, hoping to escape the sudden pressure in my chest. But just as I rose to my feet, the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. The jolt wasn't violent, but it was enough to throw me off balance.

I reached out instinctively, and my hands landed square on his chest—warm and firm beneath my palms. Half in his lap, face just inches away from his. Joel's hand pressed against my waist, steadying me. Not in a reactive way, but with purpose. Like he meant it.

I was close, too close. Enough to see the darker flecks in his eyes, the faint scar along his right temple, the way his vein pulsed in his neck.

Neither of us moved. For a single heartbeat, it was just us. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, loud enough to drown out everything else.

I snapped myself out of it. "Shit, sorry." I muttered, breathless as I pushed off of him. My cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment.

I turned away and hurried down the aisle to the bathroom, my hands still tingling from where they'd touched. But as I walked away, I could feel his eyes on my back. And worse, I wanted him to keep looking.

The bathroom was barely big enough for me to turn around in, but I shut the door like it could somehow block out what had just happened, and I let out the breath I held in for what felt like forever.

I leaned forward, leaning over the tiny sink, heart still thudding in my chest. I closed my eyes, and there he was again.

The way he felt in my hands, solid and warm beneath soft cotton. The heat of his hand pressed against my waist, not delicate or clumsy, but as if it belonged there.

And god, his scent. It clung to me now without warning. And his eyes?

I exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the heat that bloomed low in my stomach. Those eyes, wrecked me.

It would've taken nothing—nothing—to lean in closer. To close the inches between us. My lips had been right there, hovering above his. I could still feel his breath on my cheek. Could still imagine what it would've felt like to taste him.

And god, I wanted to.

"I can't." I whispered to myself. "I can't."

I opened my eyes, blocking hard at my reflection in the mirror.

"He is Sarah's dad." I said.

My best friend's father.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh. Trying to block it all out.

This can't happen. Whatever that was, whatever sparked in my chest and the space between us. It didn't matter.

I have to bury this feeling. Pretend it never happened.

Even if my skin still remembered his touch. Even if my heart wanted him.

—————

Part four

[wintrcaptn]

Apples and Butterflies pt. 2

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : You caught your bf in bed with another girl two months before winter break. Now with no where to go for the next few weeks, your roommate invites you to her hometown so you don't spend the holidays alone.

But you never expected her dad to be the guy who pretended to be your date so you didn't look pathetic in front of your ex. The same guy you can't stop thinking about...Joel miller.

Part one Here

A/N : I am enjoying writing this story so much. I love grumpy Joel lol. But please leave some feedback! Thank you <3

Joel's POV

California isn't my favorite state to be in. The people here were something out of a movie, one I didn't care for. But it was the home to my daughter for the past four years. It welcomed her in, made her feel like she belonged. She loved it here more than back home, so I knew California would be somewhere I had to just deal with.

I arrived early this morning, took an uber from the airport and now here I was. At this little cafe just down the street from my daughter's university.

I knew she would be in class once I arrived, so I decided to keep myself busy until she was ready to leave.

The coffee here wasn't as good as the one back home. It was over priced shit but I guess it'll do for now.

This place had been crowded with people since I arrived. Though, I was lucky enough to find an open table by the window in the back. I liked my mornings quiet, black coffee, nobody talking to me. Especially before the caffeine kicked in.

Then suddenly a shadow fell across my table.

"Hi." A soft quick voice spoke, capturing my attention.

"Do you mind if I sit?" She asked, as she quickly slid into the seat across from me like we had planned this, like we knew each other.

This wasn't suppose to be how my day went. I don't do strangers. And sure as hell didn't do wide eyed girls with sunshine smiles this early in the day unless she were my daughter.

But something in her voice; quiet, yet fraying at the edges, my jaw tightened. I folded the paper and sat back in my seat, calmly crossing my arms over my chest as I watched her.

Her chest rose up and down a little too fast, her lips pressed into a small smile that looked like it was barely holding together. There was a flicker of something wild in her eyes, panic dressed up as casual. She glanced behind her once, quick and sharp.

I took her in fully, and god, she was beautiful. Sunlit kind of pretty that made people smile without meaning to. She looked like a summer morning, soft and bright in a way that didn't belong in the dull gray of the cafe.

Her hair was pulled back into one of those messy buns women acted like was an accident, but I knew better. Stray strands framed her face, catching in the morning light.

The dress she wore was long, some kind of floral thing that clung to her up top but flowed lazily down her legs. She had a white long sleeve shirt under it, fitted close to her arms—even sunshine knew when to layer up.

She was beautiful, yes, but not in the polished, Hollywood type. She looked real. Like she danced barefoot once or twice, maybe kissed someone in the rain. The kind of woman who laughed too loud, cried in movies, and didn't bother pretending she didn't feel things deeply.

And here she sat, across from me. Looking like trouble wrapped in wildflowers.

"You always crash strangers tables or is today special?" I asked, breaking the silence.

She blinked back at me, looking like a deer in the headlights before forcing a soft smile. "I uh—I just really like this table."

I didn't buy it.

"You're a shit liar." I said flatly.

"And you're surprisingly observant for someone reading a newspaper in 2025."

A small, quiet huff of a chuckle fell from my lips. It was funny I had to admit but I shook my head and turned my attention back to the paper, flipping to a random page I wasn't actually reading.

I tried to focus on the damn words. The print blurred just enough to make it easy for me to pretend I actually cared about any of it. But I could still feel her. Fidgeting, glancing around, radiating that restless, too bright energy that clashed the calm I craved.

A few minutes passed. Almost enough time that I was convinced she might stay quiet after all.

Until...

"So do you usually ignore the person in front of you," she asked her voice laced with curiosity and amusement. "Or am I just special?"

I let out a long, low sigh, folding the paper neatly before setting it aside. I met her gaze again, steady.

"I don't usually get ambushed by strangers." I said dryly. "So yeah. Guess you're special."

She grinned and leaned back into her chair. "Wow, and here I thought chivalry was dead."

I didn't take the bait. I just stared at her again, eyes narrowing slightly, jaw tensed as I studied her. Not annoyed, not exactly...just trying to figure her out.

She was too guarded beneath that sunny tone. Her smile was the kind that tried to distract, to keep people from looking too closely.

"You're hiding from someone, aren't ya?" I asked.

Her smile faltered. Just barely. Her shoulder stiffened. "...is it that obvious?"

"You've been lookin' at that guy behind you since you sat down." I said. "And you keep playin' with that damn zipper on your purse."

She froze for a moment, then her fingers released the zipper and lifted her eyes to meet mine.

I held her gaze. "I'm right, aren't I?"

She blinked, trying to hide the way her lips twitched. "Are you always this friendly with people you just meet?"

Sarcasm. I can hear it in her tone.

"Sure." I deadpanned, lifting my coffee. "When people interrupt my morning to hide from bad decisions."

She rolled her eyes but the smile slipped in any way. Uninvited and stubborn. "Okay, fair. But in my defense I had nowhere else to go, and you were the only one with an open seat. So...lucky you."

I stared at her for a moment. Her words echoed in my head—lucky you.

My mornings were predictable, the paper, coffee, silence. The one part of my day that I had full control over.

Until today, until she came in all flustered charm and stubborn brightness, like a damn sunrise cracking through the cloud cover.

She didn't ask for anything. Not really. Just sat here like she belonged here. With me.

Lucky you.

"You're usin' me." I said, words slow and even. More like an observation rather than a complaint.

That made her flinch, not much but enough to notice. She shrugged and pulled herself together.

"You know, you also looked like the type of person who wouldn't ask too many questions," she said, fingers drifting towards the edge of my newspaper.

As she moved, something caught my eye. A delicate butterfly tattoo just barely peeking out beneath the sleeve of her white shirt. Faded edges, soft lines. Small.

It was a fleeting thing but for some reason it stuck with me.

'Of course she got wings' I thought to myself.

"Yet, here we are." She added, tugging the paper toward her like we were sharing something now.

I didn't stop her, didn't move an inch. Just held my gaze on hers. "Here we are."

"I never knew they still printed these things." She said. "You know you could read the news on your phone like a normal person."

I didn't answer right away. Just plucked the paper out of her hands, slow and deliberate, and placed it back beside me. "I don't like phones." I said flatly.

"You don't like phones?"

"Nope."

"Why? You think Siri might be listening? Stealing our data?" She teased, biting back a grin.

Her smile grew the longer I stared, forcing a warm sensation to pool at the pit of my stomach for reasons I wasn't sure why. "Don't trust anything that needs to be updated every other week."

She laughed, soft...almost like she hadn't meant for it to slip out. More breath than sound. But it curled into the air, settling under my skin.

And it caught me off guard.

I hated this feeling. Like something inside my chest stirred awake that shouldn't be.

I hated that I noticed her laugh. Hated even more that I wanted to hear it again.

I looked away, clenching my jaw as I tried to focus on my paper once again, though it no longer made any sense.

But her laugh lingered in my head.

"For someone who didn't want company, you're making this bearable."

Something flickered in me. A shift. Nothing big, but enough for me to pause. Her words settled somewhere deep, somewhere I thought I closed off years ago.

I could've said a dozen things. Could've asked what she meant. Could've forced my lips into a smile. But instead, I cleared my throat and stared at her with intensity I knew wasn't welcoming.

It's not that I didn't find her attractive because I did. I'd be blind if I didn't, but she was what—twenty six, twenty seven at most? If I was guessing right.

I'm forty eight, too damn old to be entertaining the idea of some bright eyed girl with honey in her laugh and too much softness in her eyes. A girl who smelled like apples and nutmeg, and wore dresses that fluttered around her legs like she was made of summer.

"Don't push your luck." I said.

She opened her mouth to respond until we were interrupted.

"I thought that was you."

I lift my gaze, slow, unhurried, on the man standing on her side. Clean cut, smug. Behind him—some girl hanging on his arm, the kind of too pretty that tried too hard.

I glanced back at the girl across from me, noticing her nifty grow tense by the second and her hands balling into fists. And just like that, I knew...this was the guy she was hiding from.

She forced a smile and turned her attention up to the man. "Dylan." She said flatly.

Dylan. Guessing an ex?

"I didn't expect to see you here." He chuckled. The nerve of this ass, to come up to her as if they were just old friends catching up. "How've you been?"

She seemed to tense more now than before. Her lips parted but no words fell from her mouth. Silence lingered and for a second I waited. Figured maybe she'd handle it fine on her own. Nothing. Something heavy settled in my chest, and I felt I needed to step in.

"She's doing' fine." I stated matter of fact. "Ain't that right darlin'?"

I didn't take my eyes off her. Held her gaze like a damn anchor, steady. Playing along, sure but not for show. I wanted to put her at ease even for just a moment.

I could feel Dylan's stare on me. But I didn't care. Didn't move an inch as I sat there, still holding her gaze with my own.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine. But do you mind? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

Atta girl.

Dylan mumbled something I didn't care to listen for, then left our table with the girl shuffling close behind him.

I turned back to the stranger in front of me. Crazy how I still don't even know her name. And yet here I was...

"You okay?" I asked.

"Y-you didn't have to do that." Her words were low and drawn out.

"I know."

The air was thick with the kid of tension that clings to your skin, it felt almost suffocating. She looked like she needed to breathe, really breathe. Maybe some fresh air would do her some good. I stood up and grabbed my tan coat that hung over my chair and shrugged it on.

"Wanna get out of here?" I asked

"Yeah." She said slowly getting up from her seat. "I do."

I towered over her, realized it fully for the first time now that she stood beside me. But she didn't shrink, didn't cower. She just looked up at me like I had just saved her life.

Her scent, that scent—apples and nutmeg, warm like fresh pie cooling on a windowsill. It hit me square in the chest. Soft and nostalgic and stupidly inviting.

I clenched my jaw trying not to breathe too deeply and walked ahead, needing some space. Needing something to focus on that wasn't her. Then I reached the door, and held it open for her.

As she stepped out into the sunlight, I followed behind.

And that's when I saw her. All of her.

The hem of her dress lifted just slightly in the soft breeze, fluttering around her ankles like it had a mind of its own. The fabric clung to her waist before flowing out into soft waves.

She looked like she belonged to the season. Like she was the season. Warm and fleeting.

I was noticing too much of her. I needed to stop myself now before there was no going back.

"So...are you ever going to tell me your name? Or should I just continue to call you coffee guy in my head?" She said, breaking the silence.

I furrowed my brows. "Coffee guy?"

She flashed a cheeky grin and shrugged. "It was either that or grumpy old man, but that felt a little dramatic."

I stared at her for a long moment, unmoving. The smart thing would've been to end it here. Let her fade back into the noise of the world.

But something stopped me. Something I didn't understand. Something I sure as hell didn't ask for.

"Joel." I said, finally.

Her eyes lit up and she reached out, palm open between us. No hesitation. 

"Joel." She repeated.

The way my name rolled off her tongue did something to me that I didn't want to admit.

It shouldn't have mattered. I'd heard my name a thousand different ways over the years. Shouted, sighed, moaned, muttered under breath...but never like that. Never like it was safe in someone's mouth. Never like it belonged to someone who might actually mean it.

I didn't want to like it. But I did.

I took her hand into mine, soft, delicate. I felt a spark shoot through me, damn near unsettling. Her smile though, it deepened as if she had felt it too.

"Well Joel, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

I cleared my throat. "Didn't ask, but good to know."

She laughed to herself. The same laugh from before that pulled me in.

"Wow, you're really committed to this broody, man of few words, huh?"

"Talking is overrated."

"And yet, here you are...talking."

My lips twitched at the edges, I could feel a smile forming but I shot it down instantly.

"You're persistent."

"I get that a lot."

I didn't realize we had been holding our hands together this entire time until the sound of my phone going off snapped me back into reality. I quickly let her go, and pulled my phone out of my pocket.

Shit. It was my daughter.

"I thought you don't trust phones." Y/N said.

Funny.

"I don't." I said before turning my back to her and answering the call.

"Hey sweetheart." I said.

"Hey dad. Just finished my class. When do you come in? I might be able to pick you up before my last class."

"I'm already here. Just been—" I turned back to look at Y/N who still had her gaze on me. God she was beautiful. "Enjoying some coffee." I said as I turned away once again.

"Oh, you got here early. Should I just skip my last class? I mean I don't want you to wait around for me for another two hours."

"Don't worry. I'll be around. Just call me when you're ready."

"Ok dad. See you soon! Love you."

"Ok, love you."

With that, the call had ended and I shoved my

Phone back into my pocket. I turned back around, crossing my arms over my chest. Holding her gaze.

Something seemed off when I looked at her this time. But I couldn't figure out why.

"I should go." She said as she rummaged through her purse and pulled out her phone. "Thanks for pretending to be my date."

"Didn't have a choice."

"Right, well thanks anyway."

With that, she turned on her heels and started walking away.

I couldn't help but watch her. Part of me wanted to stop her. Ask her for her phone number like I'm some dumb high school kid with a crush.

Hell, I even felt ridiculous just thinking it.

But I stood my ground. Just watching her until she turned the corner and was no longer in sight.

Only then did I let out a long breath I held in, slow and sharp, burning the back of my throat, as I shoved my hands deep into my pockets.

This wasn't how I expected my day to go. But I also wouldn't have changed it for the world. Even though our time was fleeting and I'll most likely never see her again.

It felt as if I was suppose to meet her. The girl with the butterfly tattoo.

————————

Part Three