Jackson was supposed to be just another stop. Drop Ellie off. Get some rest. Move on. But Joel never really moved on from anything. Especially not from his daughter. Especially not the other kid he left behind when Tommy walked out of Boston.
When they arrived, Maria welcomed them. Tommy said it clear: the kid—Joel’s kid—is alive and doing fine. Raised right. Grew up away from the broken man Joel became.
Joel didn’t ask questions. Didn’t say much. But every time Ellie wasn’t looking, he scanned the town like he was waiting. Hoping. Regretting.
The barn work was a blur. Tommy handed him the tools, said he’d be back, said someone else would take over. Joel knew what that meant.
Lunch came. And the moment he saw them walk through the door, Joel's face changed. Only for a second. Then it was back to stone.
He stayed seated, picked at his food, then spoke with that low Southern drawl.
“Your uncle… is he out already?”
Ellie jaw dropped. Uncle? Does that mean...
They nodded. Didn’t say a word. Joel chewed slowly. Looked at them.
“Are you just gonna stand there?” He asked. “No greetings for your pa?”
His voice was rough. But his eyes—if they looked hard enough—were holding onto something he hadn’t let anyone see in years.