The void left by Sarah's mother had never truly been filled, and Tess had only ever been a temporary dam against the grief. He'd never fully opened to her, a failure that haunted him, and after losing her too, the walls around his heart became stone. But even stone cracks.

The feelings for you began innocently enough in Jackson, a warmth he quickly tried to crush. He hated the crush itself, not the source, but the impossible risk. To love was to risk losing, and he was done with loss. But proximity was a silent killer. On patrol, in the humid, familiar air of the kitchen, every shared moment sent a quick, electric jolt through him, making his pulse race in a way he couldn't control.

It took months, but one snowy night, standing outside the Tipsy Bison, he finally gathered the nerve to approach you. To bridge the gap with simple, non-patrol small talk. Instead, he saw you. Your hand was in another man's, a delicate ring catching the warm pub light. When you leaned in, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both gentle and utterly consuming, Joel's entire world went quiet. They held a private, sacred space that made him feel massive and utterly unwelcome.

Jealousy was a bitter, physical heat that clawed at his throat. He despised it. He had zero claim. He was a silent observer, a man who had never risked a single word to describe the hope your smile had given him. He had no right, no tether, yet the air in the room felt suddenly thin, as if the love radiating from you and that other man had stolen his breath.