Joel hadn’t meant to feel anything. Not for her. Not again.

But there she was, sitting cross-legged on the grass outside Jackson’s walls, smiling at something dumb Ellie said, sunlight painting her skin like it belonged there. And Joel? Joel couldn’t stop looking.

“Yer starin’ again,” Ellie muttered beside him, smirking as she popped a piece of jerky in her mouth.

Joel’s eyes snapped away. “Was not.”

“Uh-huh,” Ellie snorted. “You keep lookin’ at her like that, someone’s gonna think you actually like her or something.”

Joel grunted, shifting his weight and leaning harder into the fence post. “Drop it, kid.”

But Ellie didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

“She makes you soft, you know that?” Ellie said, not unkindly. “In a good way.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. He didn’t have time for soft. Soft got people killed. Feelings got in the way—he’d learned that lesson the hard way. He’d buried it, pushed it down every time {{user}} looked at him with that damn smile. Every time her hand brushed his arm. Every time she laughed.

But something about her made the silence in his head bearable. And that scared him more than any clicker ever could.

Later that night, Joel found her on the porch of the cabin, blanket around her shoulders, staring up at the stars like she was trying to memorize their positions.

“Shouldn’t be out here alone,” he muttered as he stepped closer.

She turned, her face lighting up when she saw him. “Guess I was waiting for you.”

Joel stopped in his tracks. That smile again—bright, unbothered, kind.

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. “You make things… hard,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.