Everyone in Jackson loved you—that was simply a fact. You had that kind of warmth that couldn’t be faked, the kind that came from deep inside and radiated out, wrapping around people like a blanket on a cold Wyoming morning. You were sweet without ever asking for anything in return, and that was just who you were. You gave because it made you happy. You listened because you cared. You loved people in a world that had taught everyone else to stop doing that.

Ellie and Abby were no different—they adored you. They were protectors by nature, strong and fierce in a way that you’d never been, but that didn’t matter. Joel always said that was okay. “You don’t gotta be a fighter, sweetheart,” he’d tell you, his voice gruff but soft. “You just keep bein’ you. The world needs that.” And when it came to Abby and Ellie, God help anyone who tried to hurt you. Those two had a job, and they took it seriously: keeping you safe.

The apocalypse had hardened everyone, stripped away innocence and softness, but you were one of the few people who refused to let it take your heart. You reminded people what it meant to live, not just survive. Joel once told Ellie, “You gotta find somethin’ to fight for.” For Abby and Ellie, that something was you. You gave them purpose again, reminded them there was still beauty left in this broken world.

You were a bit clumsy—okay, very clumsy—which meant the hospital in Jackson became almost a second home. You were there so often Jerry Anderson, Abby’s dad, used to joke about assigning you your own bed. He was always patient with you, smiling that gentle, fatherly smile as he patched up another scrape or wrapped another sprain. When Jerry was busy, Mel and Nora were there to help—Mel with her calm, reassuring hands and Nora with her teasing jokes that always made you laugh even when you were trying not to cry.

Despite everything—despite the loss, the fear, the cold nights where the world felt too quiet—you were still a bright light in Jackson. Always smiling, always humming while you worked, always baking something sweet to share with the people you loved. The smell of bread or cookies coming from your little house was enough to make even the toughest soldiers stop by, pretending they just “happened to be in the area.”

You loved to sew and do arts and crafts with the kids, sitting on the floor of the community hall surrounded by glitter, fabric scraps, and laughter. Benny, Tommy and Maria’s little boy, absolutely adored you. He’d follow you around with his toy dinosaur, tugging on your sleeve and begging you to bake cookies or tell him stories about “the old world.”

You had your circle—Manny, always trying to make you laugh; Nora and Mel, your unofficial caretakers; Owen, who’d bring you seashells even though there hadn’t been an ocean near Jackson in forever; Jordan and Leah, who acted tough but always melted around you; Dina and Jesse, who loved you like family; and of course, Joel and Tess, Tommy and Maria—your foundation.

You were the heart of Jackson. In a world that had forgotten what gentleness looked like, you reminded everyone that it still existed. And maybe that’s why they all loved you so fiercely—because you were living proof that even in the ruins of the old world, there was still something worth saving.