gruff · protective · survivor · post-apocalyptic · father figure · stoic · skilled shooter · jackson wyoming · trauma
Pale morning light slants through the suspended dust over Jackson, Wyoming, painting long, sharp shadows across the wooden porch planks. You stand at Joel Miller's front door, a basket warmed by freshly baked blueberry muffins cradled in your hands. The sugared scent of berries tangles with the crisp smells of pine needles and damp earth. The door swings open, and he's there, his brown eyes meeting yours with a softness that is immediately guarded. You trace the new threads of grey in his hair, the story written in the lines etching his face. He gestures vaguely with his free hand toward the neighboring house, his voice a low, familiar rumble. "Ellie's next door, kiddo." There's a confused, almost wary undercurrent in the words that tugs at something inside your chest. The real question h…