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"𝐈𝐓'𝐒 so good to be home," Lori sighed from the front seat, slipping off her oversized sunglasses and tossing her hair like she was about to step onto a red carpet. "Like, I swear airports are not it for me. I need a spa day immediately."

Kara rolled her eyes fondly from the back, her perfectly tailored look still somehow intact after the flight. "California has its charms, but honestly? There's nothing like coming home. Everything just feels... grounded here."

Stella smiled as she merged onto the interstate. "So, tell me—how's the hospital? And what's the Valley been like without me?"

April leaned forward, warm as ever. "Everything's steady. But I'm just glad I've got time off off to come see you. I've missed my PEDS unit partner."

"I've missed you too," Stella said. "I'm so sorry I left, but—"

April squeezed her shoulder lightly. "No need to explain. We get it. And for the record, Mrs. Goodwin is still holding your job if you ever want it back."

Stella exhaled, visibly relieved. "That makes me feel so much better. Now—please, somebody tell me what's been going on. I need the gossip."

Lori perked up instantly, twisting in her seat to face the group like she'd been waiting for this moment. "Okay, so—Silver? Total psycho. Expanding his dojos everywhere. It's, like, hostile takeover chic. Honestly, I don't know how people even put up with it. It's a good thing you guys left when you did

"August and I just needed peace," Stella said softly. "After Mom died, we never really got that. And at the tournament, he felt like he had to win because he did last year. It was just too much pressure."

Carter, steady and thoughtful, looked up from his coffee. "And now that he's home? How's he doing?"

"Honestly? Happier than I've seen him in a long time," Stella said. "He's gotten back into riding bulls again."

Amy, who had been gazing out the window, finally spoke, her voice low and full of quiet resonance. "That tracks. August always has one foot in the fire. He needs something wild to burn the heaviness off him."

Lori gasped dramatically, her perfectly manicured hand flying to her chest. "Wait, are you telling me he's actually going full cowboy? Like, Uncle Lane rodeo style? That's hot—but terrifying."

Stella laughed. "No, not as far as I know. But with August? Who knows."

Kara let out a poised little chuckle, shaking her head. "If it's not karate, it's bulls. He doesn't really do moderation, does he?"

"Definitely not," Stella said with a grin, keeping her eyes on the road.

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"Relax, I told you—Robby's not home," Johnny reassured as he led August into the guest house, which looked less like a place to live and more like an escape room.

August scanned the room. Beer boxes had been cut up and taped across the walls like makeshift doors. Over one hallway, a piece of cardboard read in big, black letters: JAIL.

"What's all of this?" August asked, eyebrows raised.

"Ah, don't worry about it," Johnny said quickly.

He slipped through the cardboard doors, disappeared down the hall, and returned a moment later—with Robby trailing right behind him.

August blinked in disbelief. "Dude, you literally just said he wasn't here."

Johnny just shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Yeah, I lied again. Not my fault you fell for it twice."

"So why am I here?" August asked, clearly irritated. "I've got to help Uncle Clay saddle break some mares."

"Alright, fine, you guys were right. Tricking you wasn't my best move," Johnny admitted, hands up in mock surrender. "So I did some interneting—found these team-building strategies. Most of them were lame, but this one... escape room. Sounds badass. How it works—"

"I know what an escape room is. And I'm not doing it," Robby cut in flatly.

"That goes double for me," August added, turning toward the door—only to find it wouldn't budge.

"I reversed the doorknobs. Locked from the inside. And this," Johnny dangled a gold key in the air, "is the only way out." Then, with a smirk, he flicked on the garbage disposal.

Rolling his eyes, August said, "Nice work genius. So if this fails, how are we gonna get out?"

Rolling his eyes, August shot back, "Nice work, genius. So if this fails, how are we supposed to get out?"

"Glued the windows shut too. No one's leaving unless you work together." Johnny's grin widened. "Now, the way it works—you start with a theme. Ours is the Lincoln County War. New Mexico, 1878. The regulators Jose Chavez y Chavez and Doc Scurlock are locked up, waiting to hang. You're Chavez, obviously."

"This is the plot of Young Guns 2," August deadpanned.

"Shit—you saw it?" Johnny asked, caught off guard.

August gave him a flat look. "Of course I've seen it. It's one of my dad's favorite movies."

Robby folded his arms. "Dad, you're missing the point. You could lock us in here forever—we're never gonna be friends."

August turned on Johnny, frustrated. "Why are you even pushing this so hard? You never cared before."

Johnny's cocky edge softened—just barely. "Because me and your sister... we're kind of on our way to becoming a family."

"A family? Me and him? Are you joking?" August spat.

"Maybe not the traditional kind," Johnny said, trying to keep his cool.

"No, not any kind," Robby snapped. "You two do whatever. But if you keep forcing this, all you're gonna do is get his ass kicked."

August stepped forward, jabbing a finger in Robby's face. "Let me tell you something, city boy—you're not in the Valley anymore. You're in my home state. You're surrounded by rodeo cowboys so pissed off from getting bucked off bulls or broncs, they'll take it out on anyone who crosses 'em. And let me tell you something else, runner-up—you try to start a fight here, you'll get your skinny ass kicked."

A sharp knock broke the tension. The door creaked open, and Janette stepped in, her expression stern. "August Lane, that's enough." Her eyes shifted to Robby. "Both of you."

August clenched his jaw, then stormed out. Robby slipped back into his room without a word.

Left standing in the wreckage, Johnny muttered under his breath, "I screwed up, Janette. I screwed up. Just like always."

Janette crossed the room and pulled him into a motherly hug, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You'll figure it out, honey. I know it's hard—but you always do."

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"You're pregnant?" Lori gasped, eyes sparkling as she clutched her chest like she'd just been handed a diamond necklace. "That's wonderful, babes. I can't believe I'm going to be an auntie. This is literally everything."

Amy, sitting quietly beside Stella, slipped an arm around her in a warm side embrace. Her voice was soft, grounded. "We're so happy for you."

"How did Johnny react when he found out?" April asked, casually sipping her lemonade, curious but kind.

Stella let out a small laugh. "Well, when I told him I thought I might be pregnant, he went with me to pick up the test. Then, in the store, he saw a dad trying to console his baby, and I think it triggered some memories of him not being prepared back then. But it's all good—he's already baby-proofed the guest house."

April nodded knowingly. "I know he's nervous now, but once he holds that baby, he's gonna know everything's alright. Plus, he's older than he was then. He'll step up."

"She does have a valid point," Kara added, her tone measured and elegant as she dipped her fries neatly in ketchup.

Carter leaned forward, his warmth cutting through the chatter. "Here's the million-dollar question—how are you feeling?" he asked as the waitress refilled their drinks.

"Honestly?" Stella sighed. "I'm nervous. I don't know what kind of mother I'll be."

"Babes, you're gonna be amazing," Lori said immediately, her voice dramatic but full of conviction. "Remember after your mom passed, how you took care of August? Oh my god—when your parents were at that Texas Rangers convention and he got strep throat? You handled it like a total pro."

"Yeah," Stella said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. "I didn't know what to do at first, so I just let my instincts kick in until Mom and Dad got home."

"Exactly." Kara's tone was calm but firm, her gaze steady. "Those instincts? That's motherhood. You're going to be a badass mom."

Amy squeezed Stella's arm gently. "Always remember—no matter what, we've got your back."

"Thanks, guys," Stella said, her smile brighter this time.

"So..." Carter grinned, lifting his burger. "Is it going to be a niece or a nephew?"

"We don't know yet—it's too early to tell," Stella replied, taking a sip of her lemonade.

"They'll probably know in about a month or so," Kara added smoothly.

Lori leaned across the table, lowering her sunglasses with a conspiratorial grin. "If you want my opinion, it's totally a girl. And she'll have Stella's attitude. Imagine it—a little Stella running around. Adorable and terrifying."

"Nah, I'm betting on a boy," Carter said, chuckling.

"Either way," Amy said, her voice soft but certain, "it's going to be all you and Johnny."

"With Stella's attitude," Lori sing-songed, breaking into laughter.

Stella rolled her eyes playfully. "Hey, would y'all get off my attitude?" she laughed, shaking her head.

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Later that afternoon, Johnny was cleaning the glue off the windows, when a knock was heard at the door. "You'll have to open it from out there." the blonde said

"Hey," came Nathan's voice. "Mom told me what went down. Thought I'd stop by after work and check on you."

Johnny straightened, wiped his hands on a rag, then headed to the kitchen. He grabbed two Coors Banquets from the fridge and handed one over before flopping onto the couch across from Nathan.

"Well," Johnny sighed, popping his beer. "Robby and August are at each other's throats again. My genius plan to iron it out? Crashed and burned."

Nathan cracked his bottle and took a swig. Johnny smirked, shaking his head. "So much for Google's advice on conflict resolution."

Nathan raised a brow, half-smiling. "Wow. I'm surprised a guy still stuck in the '80s even knows how to use Google—or the phrase 'conflict resolution.'"

"Hey." Johnny chuckled, lifting his beer.

Nathan leaned back, his voice steady but sincere. "Look—it's obvious you care about both of them. That counts for something. I've got a good feeling you're gonna figure this out."

"Yeah." Johnny said

"You know, when I first met you I hated your guts? I kept my shot gun loaded because I saw how you looked at my daughter." Nathan said

"You knew I liked her?" Johnny said

"Please." Nathan let out a dry chuckle. "I might've been born at night, but it wasn't last night. And now here we are—you're the father of my grandchild." He tipped his bottle toward Johnny. "Classic Johnny Lawrence—manages to grow on us all. Don't tell anyone I said that, though. Or you and I will fight. No tournament rules. Cowboy style."

Nathan smirked. "Maybe that's how you and Daniel should've handled things back in the day. Just beat the crap out of each other until it was done."

"He might have." Johnny said with a small smirk. "Three points is all he had in him."

Nathan's voice grew firm again, grounded with that Ranger steel. "John, here's the truth—those boys have too much anger bottled up. What they need is to fight it out. Not with trophies on the line, not with refs blowing whistles. Just raw, man-to-man. Let 'em go at it. Just don't let 'em break each other. You get me?"

Johnny leaned back, nodding slowly. "Yeah. I get you."

Nathan stood, setting his empty bottle on the counter. "Well, I'd better get back. Don't want Mom climbing up there to clean the gutters. Woman's stubborn enough to try, and she'll end up flat on her back."

Johnny smirked, watching him head for the door. "Yeah. Wouldn't put it past her."

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Later that day, Clay pulled up to the guest house with August riding shotgun. Johnny stood outside waiting, an air horn blaring in his hand. Robby stepped out, already annoyed.

"Why am I here?" August asked, frowning. "I thought we were going to Uncle Joe's to help with the bulls this weekend."

"That's not exactly true," Clay said, climbing out of the truck. "We'll head there after this."

"What the hell—" Robby started, but Johnny cut him off.

"QUIET!" Johnny barked. His voice carried that sharp edge, commanding. "You wanna hang on to your grudge? Fine. But at least be men about it. Put your fists where your mouths are."

"You want us to do what?" August asked.

"Fight it out," Johnny said flatly. "No points. No mats. Just fight until you get it all out of your systems."

"Here? Now?" August asked, incredulous.

"It's a time, this is a place. Unless that was just talk." Johnny pushed

"Not for me," August snapped back.

"Same," Robby said.

"All right. Let's get on with it." Johnny said,

Clay stepped up beside Johnny, arms folded, his stance solid and watchful. The teens squared off, "Come on, is that all you got? Thought you guys were sworn enemies."

The fight turned rough quick—Robby swept August's leg, dropping him hard. August scrambled up, throwing his own kicks, and the momentum carried them toward the barn.

Clay's voice cut through, deep and warning. "John—Abilene hasn't had anyone fix that barn in years. They'll go straight through that loft if it gives."

Johnny's jaw tightened. "Damn it." He and Clay rushed inside, chasing the boys into the dim barn.

"Hey!" Johnny shouted. "Barn's out of bounds!"

The teens ignored him, fists flying as they crashed into hay bales and scrambled up the loft ladder.

"Boys!" Clay's tone snapped like a whip. "Fight's over! August Lane, Robby—knock it off, right now!"

Neither listened. August landed a punch to Robby's face. The scuffle got uglier, the loft boards creaking under their weight.

"That's enough!" Johnny yelled. "Robby! August! KNOCK IT OFF!"

But they didn't listen. August slammed Robby back, knuckles tight in his shirt. Robby teetered against the fragile railing, the loft threatening to give.

And then August froze.

A familiar scent drifted through the dust and sweat—jasmine and rose, the perfume his mother had always worn. He blinked, chest heaving, and for a moment the barn blurred.

There she was. Ava—glowing, radiant in a white knit halter top and a long flowing skirt that swayed as though caught in a soft summer breeze. Her hand pressed gently to his arm, her touch cool and steady.

"That's enough, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice calm, soothing, filled with love.

August's grip faltered. His shoulders slumped, breath shaking as he pulled Robby back from the edge. Relief washed over him like a tide, Ava's presence lingering even as the vision began to fade.

Johnny and Clay climbed up but held back, watching.

"Why'd you hold back?" Robby asked, breathless.

"I didn't get into karate to hurt people," August said, sitting on a hay bale. "I did it to defend myself. To find balance."

"Yeah... I get that." Robby eased down beside him. "Can I ask why you started in the first place?"

August exhaled, glancing at him. "When I first moved to the Valley, I was bullied. And I was still grieving over the loss of my mother. She was everything to Stella and me. She never approved of fighting, but she always supported us. Last time we went at it... how come you didn't hold back?"

Robby's jaw clenched. "I just wanted to finish it. Not like that—I just... I snapped. Tunnel vision. I barely knew where we were. If I could take it back, I would. It was the worst moment of my life too."

August studied him, then nodded. "I forgive you. And hey—if you're sticking around, get out of the guest house. There's better ways to spend your time. Rodeo's not really your scene, but you should give it a shot. Every weekend they've got the pro circuit, PBR. It's a blast."

Robby cracked a small smile. "I'd like that." They stood and shared a supportive five.

Johnny's voice cut in. "So... is it over? You two good?"

Both nodded.

"Thank God," Johnny muttered. "Because if you still hated each other when the baby gets here—"

"Baby?" August's eyes widened.

"Wait, what?" Robby grinned.

Johnny froze. "Shit."

"What, like—you and my sister?" August blurted, almost bouncing.

Johnny scrubbed a hand over his face. Clay laid a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah," Johnny admitted. "We're, uh, having a baby. We were supposed to tell you together, so... make sure you act surprised."

"Holy shit!" August shouted, grinning ear to ear. "I'm gonna be an uncle!"

"Dad, that's... that's awesome," Robby said, stepping forward to hug his father.

Clay and August joined in, pulling Johnny and Robby into a tight embrace.

"Welcome to the family, Johnny. You too, Robby," Clay said, his voice firm and warm.

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After an eventful afternoon, the house had finally settled into a peaceful rhythm. Johnny walked in carrying takeout bags from Olive Garden.

"Alright," he announced, swaggering in like he'd just saved the day. "Dinner time... and yes, I got extra breadsticks."

He set the bags on the kitchen island and pulled out a basket of warm, buttery breadsticks, placing them right in the middle of the table like they were a trophy.

Robby raised an eyebrow as he bit into one. "Wow. You weren't kidding about these breadsticks, Dad."

Johnny smirked, cracking open a pasta container. "Told you. I wouldn't lie to you... at least not three times in the same day."

The boys laughed lightly as they settled in at the dining room table, plates of pasta being passed around, the vibe relaxed. Just as they were about to eat, the front door opened—and in walked Stella.

Stella paused for a moment, pleasantly surprised at the sight: Robby and August sitting side by side, eating dinner.

"Well," Stella said, stepping into the room with a smile, "this is a welcome surprise."

"Hey, sis," August said warmly, standing to kiss her on the cheek.

"Hi, hon," Stella smiled, kissing her brother's temple.

"Hey, Stella," Robby smiled kindly.

"Hi, sweetheart." Stella kissed the top of his head. "Are you still settling in all right?"

Robby nodded. "Better now."

Stella made her way to the kitchen, where Johnny was opening the pasta containers. She leaned in and kissed him. "They're actually getting along," she said softly. "How'd you pull that off? And please tell me the bruises on their faces aren't because you beat them into submission."

Johnny gave a smug shrug, taking a swig of his beer. "Of course not. They beat each other into submission. Don't worry—it was supervised."

"I'm not even gonna ask," Stella said, rolling her eyes with a half-smile. "Did you tell them?"

"Yeah," Johnny said. "They took it better than I thought they would."

Stella reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his cheek. "Johnny... thank you. I mean it. You helped them get along today. With everything going on, especially with our baby on the way... you made this feel... possible."

Johnny's tough exterior softened, his usual smirk replaced by a look of pure, quiet devotion. He took her hands in his. "Stella... you don't have to thank me for that. I'd do anything for you. You and this baby... and Robby... that's my world. Always has been, always will be."

She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his. "I don't say it enough... but I love you. More than anything."

"I know," Johnny murmured, voice low, rough around the edges but full of feeling. "I love you too. And I'm not just saying it. You're my whole life now. Nothing's gonna change that."

She smiled against his chest, heart full. "I feel the same. I'm so lucky to have you."

Johnny tightened his hold, protective and unwavering. "Nah, it's the other way around, Stella. I'm the lucky one."

They stayed like that for a long moment, the warmth between them stronger than any words could convey, before Johnny finally pulled back just enough to grin.

"Now," he said, his old swagger returning just a little, "let's eat before these breadsticks get cold. And you better believe I'm eating at least three."

Stella laughed, the sound bright and happy, and for the first time all day, the house felt completely at peace.