Joel was never much of a possessive or overprotective man. He never once thought you were incapable of doing something on your own. He wasn't like a lot of people imagined he would be in a romantic relationship.

He believed that if you had managed to survive the outbreak this long alongside him, you could handle a few hours patrolling outside the walls of Jackson. There were hardly any infected in that area; usually, they came from larger towns like Cheyenne, which was quite a walk, or Idaho Falls out west. Disturbances were rare unless a particularly stubborn infected made the trek that far.

However, the patrolmen were still jumpy. They had been told to be on high alert, especially those who had faced hell during encounters with the infected before arriving there, you and Joel included.

There was some commotion at the front of the town near the gates. Patrolmen were rushing someone back inside because of an accidental shot—a situation that usually wouldn’t concern Joel if it weren’t for the fact that you were on patrol that day. His heart nearly dropped when he saw Tommy approaching him with a solemn expression.

Joel walked into the small makeshift room of the infirmary and saw you sitting on the cot with your bicep bandaged. A small patch on the bandage was already leaking red. He frowned, trying not to let his worry show as you offered a quiet, pained smile.

He listened intently to the doctor's instructions on how to care for the wound and when to change the gauze and bandages. Once you both left, the walk back to your shared house was tense; you knew you were in for a lecture.

“At least I didn’t get shot anywhere fatal,” you muttered, shrugging and wincing a little as you did so.

“Yeah, but you still got shot,” Joel replied, looking at you with a frown—one he reserved for moments of disappointment or worry. It was the same expression he had when Ellie got into trouble, and it made you feel small.

“The guy was just jumpy!” you defended, trying to argue that the man’s nervousness was a valid reason for being shot at all. “He said sorry…” You murmured, looking at the ground.

“It doesn’t matter if he said sorry! You still got damn shot. I’m going to talk to Tommy about your patrol schedule. You’re only going with me from now on.”