What we left behind

Chapter 1

✮  Joel miller x babysitter reader

Warnings : the reader is 19 years old, age gape , before outbreak

A/N : Here the first chapter of my book what we left behind i hope you will enjoy it tell me in comments :)

English is not my first language !!

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Austin, Texas 📍

Two months before Outbreak Day

The cicadas were screaming in the trees again. Texas heat pressed down like a hand on the back of your neck, sticky and smothering. You sat cross-legged on the Miller's living room rug, watching Sarah flip through channels with the remote like she was searching for a reason to stay awake.

"Nothing's ever on," she groaned.

You smirked. "That's because you've watched every movie on this channel three times."

Sarah flopped back on the couch dramatically. "I'm bored. When's Dad getting home?"

"Soon." You tried to sound confident, even though the truth was Joel was always late. Construction hours, he'd say. Overruns. Deadlines. Always something.

Sarah picked at the edge of a throw pillow. "You don't have to keep staying so late, y'know. I'm twelve. I could probably handle myself."

"Probably," you teased. "But I get paid to make sure probably doesn't turn into oops."

She rolled her eyes and tossed the pillow at you. You caught it with a grin and tossed it back. It was moments like this—quiet, soft, harmless—that made the job more than a job.

But it was Joel who complicated things.

The front door opened with the sound of heavy boots on tile, followed by the low scrape of keys tossed onto the kitchen counter.

Sarah was up in a flash. "Dad!"

"Hey, baby girl," Joel's voice answered. Tired but warm.

You stood up a little too quickly, brushing your shorts down with your palms. Joel stepped into the room, sweat-damp from the heat, t-shirt clinging to his frame. He looked rough—rougher than usual—but then again, he always carried that weight like it was bolted to his spine.

"You're late," Sarah announced.

"Yeah, yeah." Joel tousled her hair. "Boss needed extra hands. I told him he owed me a Saturday."

He looked at you then. Not long, not too directly, but just long enough that it said more than it should've.

"Thanks again," he said. "Sorry to keep you so late."

You shrugged, trying not to let your voice hitch. "No problem."

"Want a ride home?" Joel asked.

Sarah was already halfway up the stairs, calling back, "She should stay for dinner! You always eat gross leftovers alone!"

Joel chuckled, but there was something else behind it. A beat passed.

"You hungry?" he asked.

And there it was again—that invisible thread between you two. Thin. Taut. Dangerous. You should've said no. Should've gone home like any normal babysitter would.

Instead, you nodded. "Yeah. I could eat."

⸻

The kitchen was dimly lit, Joel moving through it with the easy rhythm of someone who didn't need to talk to fill the silence. You sat at the counter, watching him work—reheating some leftover chicken, throwing together a salad. He opened a beer and didn't ask if you wanted one, but when he slid the bottle across the counter, you didn't say no.

"You start school next week?" he asked.

"Monday."

"You ready?"

"No." You laughed softly. "But when am I ever?"

He smirked, and it felt like a victory. Joel's smiles were rare. Real ones even more so.

There was a quiet moment. Just chewing. The clink of forks against plates. The air between you warm and electric.

You broke it first. "Sarah's great, by the way. You're doing a good job with her."

Joel's eyes flicked up. There was something in them. Something raw.

"Not sure I am," he said quietly.

You didn't answer right away. "Well... she loves you. That's gotta count for something."

Joel set down his fork. His voice came low.

"She talks about her mom sometimes. Not much. Just... questions. Stuff I don't always know how to answer."

You nodded. "You don't have to have all the answers."

He looked at you then—really looked. "No. But I gotta try."

And that look lingered.

Too long.

You felt it all over. The room shifted. Something heavy passed between you, unsaid but real.

You broke eye contact first. "I should probably head out."

Joel stood up with a quiet nod. "Yeah. I'll drive you."

The truck ride was short. Quiet, except for the radio crackling some old country song neither of you acknowledged. When he pulled up outside your apartment, he didn't kill the engine.

You reached for the door. "Thanks for dinner."

Joel gripped the wheel. "Yeah."

You hesitated. "I won't say anything, if that's what you're worried about."

He looked over at you, brow tight. "Say anything about what?"

"You know what." You turned to face him. "The way you look at me."

Silence. Then—

"I'm too old for you."

"Maybe."

"You're nineteen."

"I know how old I am."

Joel clenched his jaw. "This ain't something that can happen."

You opened the door. Half in, half out. "Didn't say it should. Just said I won't say anything."

And then you were gone. Leaving him in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing holding him together.