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"There's a place where mornings are an endless blue, and you feel Mother Nature walk along with you. Where simple people living side by side still wave to their neighbor when they're driving by. Sing a song about the heartland, sing a song about the heartland. Sing a song about my life.

— George Strait (Heartland, Pure Country Soundtrack, 1992)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐍 began to set over the horizon as Nathan's old Chevy truck rolled up the long dirt drive of the Tate ranch, just outside of Austin. Ava's old 80s mixtape hummed low from the speakers, a bittersweet echo of her presence. Stella, sitting behind the wheel, parked and shut off the ignition, glancing over at her younger brother.

"August, we're here hon," Stella said softly, giving him a gentle shake.

August stirred, blinking himself awake, then smiled when he saw the familiar sight of home. After the long road trip, just being here made the exhaustion worth it. Both siblings climbed out of the truck, stretching their stiff limbs as the warm Texas air wrapped around them.

Their maternal grandmother, Abilene Tate, stepped out onto the porch, her smile as bright as ever. Abilene, née Frost, had rodeo in her blood—kin to the legendary Lane Frost. After losing her husband back in '71, she'd bought this ranch on the outskirts of Austin, raising her daughters with grit and grace.

"Hi kids," Abilene greeted warmly, pulling them into her arms. "How was the drive?"

"Hi grandma. It was fine, though August slept most of the way," Stella teased as they walked toward the porch.

"Well, I bet you two are hot, hungry, and thirsty. There's fresh blueberry lemonade inside, and fried chicken waiting," Abilene said, ushering them inside.

"Sounds great, grandma," Stella replied with a tired smile as she and August headed in.

Inside, they were met by their aunt Kellie, who rushed to wrap them both in a hug, her husband Clay standing steady at her side. Clay's presence was strong, protective—the kind of man who always had his family's back without needing to say much.

"Get in here, you two!" Kellie said brightly. "The California sun has made you a little tan—and August, have you been working out?"

August chuckled. "Something like that."

"Hey, kids," Clay rumbled, his voice warm but firm as he pulled them both in for a fatherly embrace. To him, Stella and August weren't just niece and nephew—they were his own.

"He's in karate, auntie," Stella explained while reaching for a glass from the cupboard and pouring herself some of the cold blueberry lemonade.

"Karate?" Kellie raised her brows. "What happened to bull riding?"

"They don't exactly have rodeo sports in California, aunt Kellie," August said, sliding into a chair at the table.

"Well, you made the right decision coming back home," Abilene said, setting plates of fried chicken in front of them. "Stella, I know you wanted to finish that nursing program out there, but your home is here in Texas."

"I know, grandma, but the beaches are beautiful," Stella replied with a small smile, taking a sip of her drink. Her voice softened, almost unconsciously. "Not to mention the men..."

"What was that last part, dear?" Abilene asked, eyeing her.

"Nothing," Stella said quickly, picking at her food to hide the flush in her cheeks. Her heart tugged painfully as her thoughts drifted to Johnny—the only man who'd ever truly seen her, her other half, the love she ached for even now that they were apart.

Clay leaned back in his chair, giving her a steady look. "How are you liking the nursing program, Blue?" His voice carried the quiet pride of a man who believed in her, who wanted to hear she was doing well.

"It's great. I get to work with Kara and Lori, and we've met a couple of nurses named April and Maggie, who are absolute gems," Stella said with a smile, trying to stay present.

"Now, have you two met anyone?" Abilene asked. "I would have asked your father, but... well, you know."

August grinned. "I have a girlfriend. Her name is Sam. She's in karate with me."

"That's wonderful, honey. We'd love to meet her," Kellie said warmly.

"And what about you, Blue? You met anyone?" Abilene pressed.

Stella hesitated for only a moment, then smiled softly. "Yes, I have. He's in karate, too. Actually, he's August's sensei."

"Oh?" Abilene said, leaning in with interest. "How's that going?"

"I mean, it's going great," Stella replied, her voice tender, almost wistful. "I haven't seen him since we left, but... he treats me well."

Clay leaned forward, his eyes narrowing just a little. He wasn't a man of many words, but when it came to family, every word mattered. "This sensei of yours..." his tone was low, protective, edged with the steel of a man who'd go to war for the people he loved. "He good to you, Blue? Really good?"

Stella looked down at her plate, then back up, meeting Clay's gaze with steady eyes. Her lips curved into the faintest smile, but her chest ached with longing. "He's more than good, Uncle Clay. Johnny... he's the love of my life. My other half. Being away from him—it feels like I'm missing a part of myself."

Kellie glanced at her husband, then back at Stella, recognizing the way her niece's voice softened when she said Johnny's name.

Clay's jaw worked as he studied her. He'd seen heartbreak before, seen what happened when men didn't measure up. "If he's the man you say he is, then he better treat you like gold every damn day. 'Cause if he doesn't, he'll have to answer to me." His words were blunt, but beneath them was fierce devotion—Rip Wheeler through and through.

Stella let out a soft laugh, though her eyes glistened. "He does. He always has. Johnny's rough around the edges, sure... but with me, he's tender. He makes me feel safe, loved. Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

August piped up with a grin, "Yeah, Sensei really cares about her. You can tell."

Clay leaned back in his chair, finally nodding. "Alright then. Long as he's standin' where he oughta—by your side—I won't have a problem with him. But if he ever forgets that..." He let the sentence hang in the air, the weight of his promise clear.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

"You've got to be kidding me!" Robby snapped, his voice sharp with anger.

"You have every right to be upset," Johnny said, hands gripping the wheel, eyes locked on the Texas road. Since the trip started, Robby hadn't let up—demanding to know why Johnny dragged him halfway across the country. Johnny had dodged, stalled, and tried to keep it surface level. But guilt caught up quick, and now the truth was out. They weren't just wandering. They were here for August. For Stella.

"For real? You bring me all the way to Texas and don't even mention once we're chasing down August and your girlfriend?" Robby shot back, mocking his father. "Come on Robby, let's go to Texas, come back with some stories." He glared out the window.

"I wasn't bullshitting you, Robby. I do wanna fix things between us," Johnny said, voice gruff but honest. "But I heard Stella and August were in trouble. I couldn't just sit at home. And I didn't want to leave you behind again. I need your help."

"My help?" Robby scoffed. "Do you even have a plan?"

Johnny gave a half shrug, eyes still on the road. "Yeah, of course I do. August and Stella went back to their grandma Abilene's ranch."

"And when we hit Austin? What's the big master plan then?"

"I'll ask around, see if anyone's seen them."

"That's it? That's your whole plan?"

Johnny exhaled through his nose. "No. If that doesn't work, I'll check the Texas phone book."

Robby stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "You dragged me over a thousand miles to check a phone book? Might as well slap their faces on a milk carton."

"They still do that?" Johnny muttered, half serious.

Robby groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I could be at home right now with Tory. This was a mistake."

Johnny's jaw clenched. He hated admitting when he was wrong, but the kid wasn't wrong to be pissed. "Look... I'm sorry, all right? I thought maybe this trip would help you and August bury the hatchet. When we get to Texas, I'll take you to the airport. If you wanna fly home, you can. I don't want you to—but it's your call."

Before Robby could fire back, headlights cut across the lane.

"Dad—watch out!" Robby yelled.

"Shit!" Johnny jerked the steering wheel, the van skidding into the grass. They came to a shuddering stop, one tire hissing its last breath.

"Great. Just great," Johnny muttered, slamming the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.

Both climbed out. Robby kicked the dirt while Johnny crouched low, inspecting the damage. "Just a blown tire. Won't take long," he said, pushing to his feet and heading for the back.

"Where the hell'd LaRusso hide the lug wrench?"

Robby rolled his eyes and grabbed it out from a side panel. "I lived in here, remember?"

"Of course I remember," Johnny grumbled, snatching the wrench and moving to the tire.

"How'd you even get this van back?" Robby asked.

Johnny smirked faintly, starting to crank. "I went looking for you. Me and LaRusso tracked it to some chop shop. Beat the crap outta the idiots who stole it."

Robby paused, surprised. "I had no idea."

"Yeah, well... I've screwed up a lot. With you. With August. Hell, I'm the reason he and Stella ran off in the first place." Johnny's shoulders dropped. His voice, usually so sharp, went low. "I'm trying to fix my mistakes before they eat me alive. You wanna make things right too? You start by helping them. I know you've got regrets about August."

Robby looked down. "Yeah, I do." A pause. "And... Stella's always been good to me. I get why you love her so much, Dad. She's... different. You made the right choice."

For the first time in hours, Johnny's face softened. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah. She's the best thing that ever happened to me. My other half. Without her..." He swallowed hard, glancing at the dark stretch of Texas highway. "Without her, I'm just... lost, man. I need her like I need air."

Robby nodded slowly, seeing his dad in a way he hadn't before.

Johnny patted his shoulder once, then handed him the wrench. "Finish taking these off. I'm gonna make a call."

He walked a few steps away, dialing Nathan's number. The phone rang twice before the steady voice of Nathan answered.

"Johnny. I decided to come too. You and Robby okay?"

"Had some car trouble," Johnny said. "We're in Lubbock. Give us a few hours, we'll make it. Any word? You hear from August and Stella?"

"Yeah," Nathan replied, that grounded Walker steadiness in his tone. "Abilene called. Kids made it to the ranch. They're safe."

Relief hit Johnny like a wave. "That's... that's great."

"I'll see you soon," Nathan said. "You and Robby be safe."

"You too, man," Johnny said quietly, then hung up. He stood for a moment, the phone still in his hand, staring off toward the horizon.

Hang on, Stella. I'm coming.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

George Strait's When Did You Stop Loving Me drifted softly from the old radio as August hung the saddle back on the wall. He looped the reins onto their hooks, the leather creaking under his hands, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw the name flash across the screen: Sam ❤️.

"Hey, Sam," August said, a smile tugging at his lips as he answered.

"August, are you and Stella okay? Did you guys make it home? Please—tell me you're both alright," Sam's voice rushed through, full of concern.

"Yeah, we're alright. It's just—" he paused, guilt creeping in. "Look, Sam, I'm so sorry I left before the finals of the tournament. Who won? How'd you do?"

There was a pause before she answered softly, "Well... Cobra Kai won. But that's not even important right now."

"You know they cheated," August muttered, shaking his head.

"Yeah," she admitted, "but what matters is that you're safe. Did you... find what you were looking for out there? Your inner peace?"

August sighed, running a hand down his face. "Not yet. I mean, my dad left because he couldn't handle the memories of Mom's death. But Stella and I—we love Texas. This place, it's our heartland. I just... need to stay for a while, y'know?"

Her voice softened. "I'll be here, waiting when you get back."

"I know you will." His throat tightened, but his voice was gentle. "I love you, my karate champion."

"I love you too, my cowboy," Sam whispered back.

When the call ended, August slid the phone back into his pocket. He leaned against the stable doors, folding his arms on the worn wood, and drew in a deep breath. The air carried the faint, familiar sweetness of Penhaligon's Bluebell, washing over him like a memory he didn't know he'd needed.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

That night, the ranch house had gone quiet. Crickets sang in the fields, and the faint breeze carried the smell of mesquite and dust across the land. Stella slipped out onto the porch, wrapping her arms around herself as she tilted her head back toward the stars.

She thought of Johnny—his rough laugh, the way he'd hold her close like he'd never let go. The emptiness of not having him here pressed hard against her ribs. In California, even in the late hours at some quiet hotel room, she could reach for him and feel him there. But now, in the Texas dark, her hand found only air.

The screen door creaked open behind her. Clay stepped out, quiet as always, and leaned against one of the porch posts. He didn't say anything at first, just studied the horizon like he was weighing the world.

"You alright, Blue?" he asked finally, his voice low and steady.

Stella brushed a tear from her cheek before he could see. "I miss him, Uncle Clay. More than I can put into words. Johnny's... he's my heart. Being away from him feels like walking around hollow."

Clay stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded, his hat tipped low. "I know that feeling. When you love someone like that, they ain't just part of your life. They are your life. Take it from me—you don't let go of a bond like that, no matter how rough it gets."

Stella's eyes softened. "But what if... what if I'm asking too much of him? He's already been through so much."

Clay pushed off the post, turning toward her, his expression firm but kind. "If that man's worthy of you—and from what I'm hearin', he is—then he'll carry the weight. Hell, he'll want to. Men like Johnny, we ain't perfect. We stumble, we fight our demons. But when we find our person? We'd go through fire to keep 'em safe. Sounds to me like he's already proved that."

Stella let out a shaky laugh, her tears slipping free. "He has. He always shows up for me."

Clay reached out, squeezing her shoulder gently, his grip strong, reassuring. "Then don't doubt him. And don't doubt yourself. You keep that love close, Blue. It's rare. Most folks spend their whole lives lookin' and never find what you already got."

The night air hung quiet again, but Stella felt a little lighter, her chest not quite so heavy. She leaned against the porch railing, gazing at the stars, and whispered to herself, I love you, Johnny.

Clay didn't need to hear the words to know where her heart was. He just stood by her side, a silent sentinel under the Texas sky, making sure she knew she wasn't alone.