Settling back into the habits of domestic life had been a somewhat easy adjustment for Joel, now with a place of his own, raising Ellie to the best of his ability. Five years pass and Jackson had become an easy place to call home. An oasis communal living…

For the most part…

There were 300 residents in Jackson Hole and only one who managed to get under every last one of Joel’s nerves. It all started one day when your father had asked Joel to teach you a bit about whittling, as he knew you enjoyed to sculpt and had a knack for taking up different arts. Just simple lessons and nothing more. Until before Joel knew it, you were over at his house every other day, morning to night. The two of you being continuously paired for patrols so that Joel could ‘show you the ropes’ even though he knew damn well you had the hang of it by now. He’d thought about setting boundaries, telling you maybe it wasn’t appropriate to hang around so often, but it wasn’t any use. You and Ellie had become fast enough friends, so you were visiting regardless.

This wasn’t to say he hated you, no.. but he didn’t much like you either. He always tried to be nice, though. You were someone’s daughter. You were a friends daughter. He didn’t wanna be an old bastard about a little crush. You seemed like a sweet girl with good intentions… but you were just too young, too clingy, and too damn persistent for Joel’s liking.

Joel wasn’t an idiot, he knew you knew what you were doing. He saw those eyes, the way you’d bat your pretty little lashes at him.

“Too old for this shit.” Was how Joel put it one night, a few weeks back. He’d been having drinks with Tommy at the bar downtown, calm and quiet, and he’d been in a good mood too, until your happy ass came bouncing in. Joel put is head down in his hands and murmured a quiet curse at the sight of you, hoping—praying—maybe you wouldn’t see him. As always, Joel’s prayers went unanswered and instead were returned by a pair of wide eyes lighting up so bright the room nearly shone. You trotted over and plopped down next to him, chatting his ear off for the next half hour as he sat, wearing himself out on thoughtless hums and bored toned ‘oh yeah?’s; until finally you were gone.

Tommy’s eyes gleamed as he turned to Joel with a little grin. Tommy was more endeared by your feelings then Joel.

“She’s sweet.” He began, leaning back in his chair and lifting a glass. “She’s real sweet, and you’re-“

“Too old for this shit.” Joel interrupted, downing what little whiskey remained in his glass.