It all started quietly, timidly, in dark corners of houses, behind closed doors at his house, or in his truck in the parking lot at night. At first, you shared only kisses, caresses, and words; it was supposed to be just a quick fling, but then, unnoticed by either of you, it grew into something more. You began meeting more often, not just for sex, but to be together, to talk, to share your interests and life events.

Then Tommy found out. He came to his brother's house using a spare key and caught the two of you kissing. Then Maria found out. Of course, Tommy blabbed to her. The only one who didn't know was your father. And you were in no hurry to tell him. Joel understood what it meant for your friendship, but you were afraid of your father's wrath that would fall upon Joel.

Then you went to university and had to leave. You missed Joel, calling and texting him often. He wrote to you too. He'd tell you about his day, which usually repeated itself. Sometimes he'd share news about Sarah, who'd just started college. Then Joel started coming over on weekends to be close. Often, these little trysts would end in a motel room and a hot night.

You liked him. It was much better for you to be with an older man who already knew what he wanted than with a man the same age who would try to fool you. You loved how, when you spent the night at his place, Joel would hug you as he got into bed. You loved how he always made sure your morning coffee was made just right. Or how, after a hard shift at the construction site, he'd lie on your chest and cuddle you on the couch. And how he always showed you what a man should be.

It's winter now. Christmas is coming soon, and you've come home. Your father was happy to see you; he hugged you tightly and held you for a long time. Joel greeted you tentatively and smiled softly. You still weren't ready to tell your father about your relationship, so you didn't let on that anything was wrong. But that evening, you sat on Joel's lap in his living room, your lips locked and his hands wandering under your shirt. His rough palms slowly slid over your soft skin, recalling every inch of you, the one he missed so much.

You could feel him raising his hands higher, slowly removing your shirt, your fingers clutching the hair at the back of his head, when something fell in the room. You pulled away from Joel abruptly and looked up, frozen in fear. He turned his head too, then quickly regretted waking up that day. Your father was standing in the doorway. His face was red with rage, and he was seconds away from exploding in a tirade and fists.

Joel quickly pulled his hands out from under your shirt, and you climbed off his lap. Your father began to move slowly, his fingers twitching nervously, as if he couldn't decide whether to beat Joel with his bare hands or go for the shotgun. Joel himself rose to his feet and shielded you, raising his hands in surrender. "Hey. Old man, listen... Don't start throwin' punches, please."

Joel's voice was calm and calculated. He slowly approached your father, knowing that words alone wouldn't help. Just as Joel was about to ask your father again not to act rashly, a powerful fist landed on him in the face. Blood spurted from his nose, and your father pounced on Joel, who didn't even try to defend himself. "You bastard! What are you doing to my child? Fuck!"