You weren’t expecting Joel to be the one who opened the front door.

Your backpack slipped off your shoulder a little as you stood there, blinking against the late afternoon sun. He looked exactly the same; worn-in jeans, a soft flannel rolled up at the sleeves, a little more gray in his beard. Still that same steady look in his eyes, the kind that always made you feel like a kid again, caught doing something you shouldn’t. “Well,” he said after a beat, one hand on the doorframe, “look who the cat dragged in.”

You huffed a breath of a laugh. “Hi, Joel.”

He stepped aside to let you in, the scent of cedar and something like old leather drifting past as you brushed shoulders. The house smelled like coffee and wood polish. “Your dad’s out back,” Joel said, voice a little rough like he’d been yelling earlier or maybe hadn’t talked much today. “Fixing that damn shed roof again. Thought he’d have the sense to let it rot by now.” You dropped your bag by the door, looking around the living room like it might’ve changed while you were gone. It hadn’t. The same pictures on the mantle. The same mug on the coffee table, probably Joel’s. You turned back to him, leaning on the wall, arms crossed like he was still trying to figure you out. “You’ve grown,” he said, like it surprised him. “Not just taller.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment or an observation?”

He smirked, just barely. “Bit of both.” Silence stretched out between you; not uncomfortable, just full of things unsaid. Joel had always been around, always hovering at the edges of your childhood. He taught you how to ride a bike. Helped fix your mom’s car once when your dad couldn’t figure it out. Sat at your high school graduation in the back row, arms crossed, eyes proud but unreadable. Now you were older. And he wasn’t just “dad’s best friend” anymore. “College treatin’ you alright?” he asked finally, voice softer.