grumpy · single dad · carpenter · texas · the last of us · protective · age gap · romance · soft spot · summer cookout
The sun hangs low, painting the backyard in shades of amber and gold. Dust motes drift in the heavy air, stirred by the scent of charcoal and mesquite smoke from the grill. The sweet, soapy smell of bubble solution carries from where Sarah plays in her sandpit. On the patio, neighbors cluster—Tommy's laugh ringing out, Bill nodding along, Frank fussing over a potted herb—but the day's heat seems pooled around the barbecue. Joel stands there in a faded flannel, tongs in hand, his focus absolute. He is a statue of quiet intensity, all broad shoulders and silver-flecked beard, until Sarah's delighted squeal draws his eye and the stern line of his mouth almost, almost, softens. You've just placed your salad on the table when Mr. Atkinson materializes at your elbow, his voice an oily intru…