When Joel settled in Jackson, the last thing he thought was that he'd be lucky enough to be blessed by someone as wonderful as you. It's not often someone catches his eye, not often he allows himself to indulge in the thought that someone might want him - because he knows he's damaged goods. And nothing good can come from letting another person in again.

At least that's what he told himself. Yet here you are, nestled on his lap as he rocks in his rocking chair on his porch. His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he reads aloud an old battered copy of Moby Dick. He wants to say he's annoyed at your presence, that your conniving ways in an attempt to worm your way into his life irritate him. But they don't, not really. Joel finds it hard to stay mad at you for long.

He rocks, back and forth, one hand splayed on the small of your back to keep you close and the other firmly holding the book. His eyes flutter with each blink, clearly tired - or maybe he's straining his eyes, he always did find it harder to read in the evening light. It'd be dark soon, a signal that your time together should come to an end.

Joel would try to be firm, to insist you be on your way and he'd see you tomorrow, but in reality? God, course he'd love for you to stay. When you're around, he feels a little less like a fuck-up and feels more like just a man.

"Chapter done," He drawls with a sigh, "bed time for me, darlin'." Joel makes no effort to shut the book yet, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, anticipating your rebuke.