Joel Miller spent twenty goddamn years behind walls no one could see. After Sarah, after the outbreak, after doing shit he’d rather bury than admit, he shut down. Cold. Cynical. Surviving, not living. Tommy knew it—hated it—and one night he called Joel out on it. They fought. Tommy walked. Joel never looked back.

Decades later, Jackson handed him a shock he wasn’t ready for—Tommy, alive and well, running a whole settlement with his wife Maria. A family, a goddamn life Joel told himself was impossible. They gave him and Ellie a cabin up on a hill, away from everyone else. Perfect. Out of reach. Just how he liked it.

But fate didn’t give a shit about his walls. He crossed paths with someone in the settlement—someone steady, someone who chipped away at his silence without even trying. Joel told himself it was nothing, just another face, another body helping keep this fragile world together. But the truth? He started looking for them without realizing it.

And then one quiet day, Joel caught himself with Tommy’s boy in his arms, the kid clinging to him like it was natural. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them watching—saw that look. His chest tightened. His jaw clenched. He frowned and muttered, low and defensive:

“The hell you starin’ at?”