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The church feels alive tonight, laughter and music filling the air, muffled conversations weaving through the warmth of the room. Outside, snow drifts lazily against the windows, a soft hush against the spirited clatter of feet as couples spin and shuffle on the makeshift dance floor.
Joel’s there, as he always is, somewhere on the edge of things, watching with a faint scowl, his presence both steady and unyielding. Over the course of the evening, you’ve watched him dance with just about everyone—older women with twinkling eyes, young ones tugged into step by his reluctant charm. Every time, you found yourself smiling, amused at the way Joel Miller—a man built for silence and solitude—kept getting roped in.
And yet… not once with you.
By the time the night begins to quiet and a slower song warbles through the speakers, you’re leaning against the wall, nursing a glass of cider. Your gaze drifts back to him again. He’s close now, standing just a few steps away, his eyes fixed on the dancers. You almost miss it when he turns—almost. He’s watching you now, something unreadable in his expression.
“Y’ain’t tired of sittin’ this one out yet?” he grumbles, his tone quiet but edged with a faint softness.
You blink up at him, your lips twitching into a teasing smile. “I was beginning to think I smelled, Joel. You’ve danced with everyone but me.”
The corner of his mouth twitches—barely, but it’s enough. “Maybe I’m just savin’ the best for last,” he mutters.
“That so?” You push off the wall, setting the glass down as you take his outstretched hand. His grip is warm, steady, rough as it curls around yours, and suddenly the music feels louder, the church quieter.
Joel pulls you onto the floor with surprising ease, his other hand settling lightly at your waist. The movement feels natural—like something he’s done a hundred times before. You let him guide you, his steps unhurried, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm.
“See? You didn’t have to avoid me all night,” you tease, grinning up at him.
Joel huffs out a breath that might almost be a laugh. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Oh, I noticed,” you reply. It comes out softer than you mean it to.
Joel doesn’t answer right away, his brow furrowing slightly as he looks down at you. Something passes between you—a quiet understanding, maybe—and for a few moments, the world feels smaller. It’s just you and Joel, his presence solid and warm as he leads you through the gentle turns.
But then your hand lifts instinctively, fingers brushing against the chain at your neck, only to meet bare skin. Your smile falters. The locket—gone.
You pull back slightly, your gaze flicking around the floor as panic settles like a weight in your chest. Joel stops moving, his grip firming.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low.
“Nothing,” you lie quickly, slipping from his hands. “I—uh, just need some air.”
Before he can stop you, you weave through the crowd, your breath tight as you crouch along the edges of the dance floor. The locket is precious—more than just jewelry, a piece of someone you’ve carried with you all these years. You can’t lose it. Not now.
The room empties slowly, the music winding down, but you’re still searching, hands shaking as you sweep the floorboards. Your fingers brush dust and splinters, but not the familiar weight of the locket.
“You alright?”
Joel’s voice comes from behind you, soft but startling. You sit back on your heels, trying to force a smile. “Fine. Just being silly.”
Joel doesn’t move, just watches you, his gaze narrowing. “Don’t look fine.”
“It’s nothing, Joel.”
He steps closer, crouching down beside you. “What’re you lookin’ for?”
You shake your head, embarrassed by the sting of tears. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Clearly does,” he says quietly. His voice is steady, unshakable, the kind of calm that makes you falter.
“It’s my locket,” you admit finally, blinking hard as you look away. “It’s—someone gave it to me. Someone who… mattered.”
Joel’s gaze softens slightly, something flickering in his expression. “Silver chain, small pendant with a dent on the side?” he murmurs, like he’s been keeping track.
You look at him, startled by the quiet observation, and Joel shrugs faintly, his eyes lingering on the spot where the locket usually rests. “Been seein’ you wear it every day,” he says, his tone quiet but sure. “It’s a pretty thing.” He pauses, his voice softening further, almost thoughtful. “Suits you.”
You blink, surprised, his words catching you off guard. Before you can answer, Joel shifts, pulling back to his feet, his usual resolve snapping back into place.
“Stay here,” he says firmly, rising to his full height, his tone steady again, but the softness lingers in his eyes.
“Joel—”
“Stay,” he says again, before turning and walking away.
Your head drops back against the wall as you close your eyes. A curse slips from your lips, barely above a whisper, frustration and guilt tangling into a knot that presses behind your eyes. You squeeze your eyes tighter, as if willing the moment to disappear.
The sound of boots crossing the floor snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your breath hitches as Joel’s voice breaks through the quiet. “Think this belongs to you,” he says, his tone low but steady.
You open your eyes and look up, startled, just as Joel crouches in front of you. His hand opens to reveal the locket, glinting faintly in the dim light. Relief washes over you so suddenly that your hands tremble as you reach for it.
“Where did you find it?” Your voice wavers, still heavy with the weight of your earlier panic.
Joel shifts slightly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Out by the food tables,” he admits, almost sheepishly. “Figured you might’ve knocked it off earlier when you were… laughing at somethin’. Found it under one of the chairs.”
Your fingers rest on the locket, but Joel doesn’t hand it over. Instead, he hesitates for a moment before saying softly, “Here. Turn around.”
The request catches you off guard, but you comply, pivoting so your back is to him. The air feels heavier as Joel leans forward, his presence grounding yet unsettling. You lift your hair off your neck, exposing the bare skin there. His fingers brush against it—light, tentative—sending a shiver through you.
Joel works the clasp carefully, his calloused hands moving with a kind of gentleness you don’t expect from him. The locket’s chain settles against your skin, cool at first before it warms to your touch. It feels familiar, but it’s the lingering warmth of Joel’s fingers at your nape that you notice more. His hands pause there, just for a beat longer than necessary.
You turn back to face him, your hands trembling slightly as you lift the locket, feeling its weight against your chest again. “Joel…” you start, but your voice falters under the weight of the moment.
He shrugs, as though it’s nothing, but his gaze lingers on you, softer now, like he’s trying to read something unspoken in your expression. “Don’t lose it again.”
You laugh breathlessly, relief flooding your chest as you clutch the locket tightly. “I won’t.”
Joel watches you for a moment longer before shifting to sit beside you, his back resting against the wall. “You didn’t have to go runnin’ off, y’know,” he mutters. “Could’ve just told me.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” you reply quietly, your thumb brushing over the locket. “It’s stupid, I guess. Getting so upset over something so small.”
“It ain’t stupid,” Joel says, his voice gruff but sure. “Ain’t small either, if it means somethin’ to you.” For a moment, he glances down at his wrist, his hand brushing absently over the broken watch strapped there. His fingers hover as though caught between habit and memory before he drops his hand back to his lap. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, like he’s sharing something he hadn’t meant to. “Some things just ain’t meant to be let go of.”
You look at him, surprised by the steadiness in his tone. He meets your gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence doesn’t feel empty—it feels grounding, like a quiet understanding shared between the two of you.
“Thank you,” you murmur finally.
Joel nods, his gaze softening just a fraction. “Anytime.”
The music has long since stopped, the church empty except for the two of you. You lean your head back against the wall, the locket still clutched in your hand, and smile faintly.
“Didn’t get to finish that dance,” Joel says, breaking the quiet.
You laugh softly, turning to look at him. “Think you can handle another one?”
His lips twitch—almost a smile—as he pushes himself to his feet, holding out a hand. “C’mere.”
Without hesitation you take his hand, letting him pull you up. There’s no music this time, but it doesn’t matter. Joel wraps an arm around you and you sway together in the quiet.
You thought the night had taken something from you—something irreplaceable—but instead, it gave you back more. The locket feels heavier now resting against your heart, connecting you not just to the past, but to the present, and maybe even something more.