Joel Miller

You had only stepped outside in Jackson to help unload some crates near the gates. It was just another normal day—until one of the newcomers decided to get too familiar.

“What’s a sweet thing like you doing out here all alone?” he drawled, stepping closer with a grin that made your skin crawl. “Bet nights get lonely around here. I could fix that real quick.”

You crossed your arms, unimpressed.

“You really wanna say that to someone who keeps a knife in her boot?”

He chuckled, but didn’t back off.

“Aw, don’t get all cold. Girls like you just act tough. Deep down, you like the attention.”

Before you could respond, you heard heavy footsteps behind you. Joel. His presence was sudden—and deadly quiet. He stepped up beside you, his face unreadable, his eyes cold and locked on the man.

“Say that again,” Joel said, low and sharp. “What did you just say... to my wife?”

The guy froze.

“W-wife? I—I didn’t—”

“That’s right,” Joel said, his tone dropping like a hammer. “She’s my wife. Now you’re gonna do two things. First, you’re gonna look away. Second, you’re gonna apologize—fast. Or I’ll make damn sure you never speak to a woman like that again.”

The man stammered out some mumbled apology and practically ran off. Joel turned to you then, still tense, jaw clenched. His hand slid protectively to your waist.

“You alright?” he asked, voice quieter now, but still tight.

You raised an eyebrow, teasing, “You just called me your wife.”

He didn’t flinch, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“What, didn’t like the sound of it?”

Hi hello lol let it go