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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 streamed through the stained-glass windows of Bobby's church, casting soft patterns across the pews. Missie, Brooke, Mason, Landon, Whitney, Kaitlin, Farrah, Kelly, and the girls had all gathered for Sunday service—a rare moment of stillness in their otherwise chaotic lives.

At the pulpit, Bobby stood calm and composed, Bible in hand, his voice steady and sincere. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," he began. He held the Bible up with quiet reverence. "This... this is where most of us go when we think about forgiveness, true? But what about forgiveness in other forms? Forgiveness of others? And then... there's my personal favorite: forgiveness of thyself."

Brooke smiled as she listened to her uncle's sermon, her lips curving into a smile, as she felt Landon take her hand, which she held. There was something about Bobby's voice—grounded, gentle, true—that made you feel at ease.

Brooke glanced at her mother, who closed her eyes, taking in the words, her chest rising and falling with a slow, measured breath. For the first time in a long while, something in her expression had softened. Maybe she was finally letting go of the weight she'd been carrying for so long. Maybe she was starting to forgive herself for what happened to Jack.

Brooke reached over and gently took her mother's hand. Missie opened her eyes, startled for a moment, then offered her daughter a quiet, grateful smile.

"This is probably our toughest battle," Bobby continued. "But listen, if God can forgive, so can you."

"Bullshit!"

Gasps rippled through the congregation as Johnny stumbled through the doors, clearly drunk.

"What about that time in Reno, with those soccer moms at the Hyatt?" he slurred, his steps uneven. Missie rolled her eyes in exhaustion. "Did God forgive any of us for that?"

Bobby glanced briefly at Missie before facing Johnny again. "Yes, even that. Forgiveness is the core of Christianity."

"I wouldn't know that," Johnny muttered, teetering slightly. "Not much of a churchgoer."

Bobby offered a tight smile, trying to keep things calm. "I'm sorry. Apologies, everyone. My friend here is going through some tough times."

"Nothing I can't handle," Johnny said, leaning heavily on the nearest pew. Then, spotting a blonde woman across the aisle, he gave her a lazy wink.

Missie exhaled sharply, her expression darkening. Her discomfort was palpable, and her kids and nieces immediately noticed.

"Mom, are you okay?" Brooke asked gently.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Don't worry about it," Missie replied, though her voice had lost its earlier peace.

Bobby stepped forward, his tone firm. "Johnny, I'm in the middle of a sermon—"

Johnny ignored him. "Y'know, this guy and his wife were real badasses back in the day. Fighting, partying, drinking. Sucks you're not allowed to get laid anymore, man."

Bobby clenched his jaw. "How many times I gotta tell you? I'm not a priest."

Johnny gave a sloppy chuckle. "Oh, so your wang can still get tang. Nice."

"Forgive me, Father," Bobby muttered under his breath.

"For what?" Johnny asked, confused.

Without warning, Bobby stepped forward and swept Johnny's leg out from under him. Johnny crashed to the ground with a thud, the sound echoing through the stunned sanctuary. Bobby calmly adjusted his coat, unmoved. Around him, murmurs of shock and awe spread like wildfire.

Beth stepped forward and quietly helped Johnny to his feet, guiding him to a seat beside her.

Missie sat tense, her hands clasped in her lap. Johnny, now subdued, stole a glance in her direction. But before he could say anything, Brooke, Mason, Whitney, Kaitlin, Farrah, and her sisters in-law shot him matching warning glares.

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"Hey." Sam smiled as she walked into the room, where Miguel sat scrolling through his Instagram.

"Hey," Miguel greeted back.

"I hope it's okay, me just showing up like this. How are you? I mean... sorry. It's a stupid question," Sam said, and Miguel chuckled.

"It's okay. I have surgery on Friday. Some doctor from out of state who supposedly works miracles," Miguel said.

"That's great, right?" Sam asked.

"I'm not getting my hopes up. The surgery costs a ton and my mom's gonna be in debt, and there's no guarantee it will work," Miguel said.

"If anyone can beat the odds, it's you," Sam said.

Miguel's eyes wandered to Sam's injured arm, noticing her scar. "Is that from Tory?"

Sam glanced down and covered her arm. "Oh, uh... yeah. It's really not that bad. Kinda makes me look tough."

"I'm sorry about that, Sam," Miguel said.

"You didn't do anything. She's the one who decided to go crazy," Sam said.

"Tory's had a rough life. Her mom's sick and..." Miguel began, but Sam cut him off.

"Everybody's got a sob story. Doesn't give you the right to be a bully. I just wanted to give you this. It's just a card." Sam handed him the card with the octopus that said You Octopi My Thoughts! "Miguel, I'm so sorry. For all of this," she said, tears threatening to spill.

"It's, uh... it's okay," Miguel said.

"El Serpiente!" Hawk's voice rang out, his expression shifting as he saw Sam.

"I'm gonna go," Sam said, walking toward the door.

"Okay, yeah," Miguel said with a small smile.

"You got some nerve coming here after what your boyfriend did," Hawk said.

"I don't care what you think," Sam replied. "I just want to help."

"Pretty sure you've done enough, princess," Hawk muttered as he walked past them, then smiled at Miguel. "Hey, bro."

"What's up, man?" Miguel returned the smile and gave a supportive five.

"You good? I like the spot," Hawk said.

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After the service, Missie stood by her Audi, rummaging through her purse searching for her keys. Behind her, a small circle had formed—Brooke, Mason, Landon, Whitney, Kaitlin, Farrah, Kelly, Kathy, Lana, and Beth. All of them had been quiet since they'd walked out, giving Missie space... but watching her carefully.

"Are you okay, Mom?" Brooke finally asked, her voice soft but laced with concern.

Missie didn't look up. "I'm fine, sweetheart."

"You're the world's most horrible liar," Kathy said, adjusting her sunglasses over her eyes. "Which is why you never win card games."

Missie let out a breath and pulled out her keys. "I always win at card games and you know it," she chuckled, unlocking her car and tossing her purse inside.

Landon wrapped his arm around Brooke. "He still hasn't called you has he?"

Missie's smile faltered. "No."

"And then he shows up like that?" Kaitlin said, shaking her head. "Drunk and rambling in the middle of uncle Bobby's sermon?"

"He didn't come for church," Mason said, voice calm but tight. "He came for her."

Missie crossed her arms, her gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. "He doesn't think," she said, her voice calm but heavy. "He just... crashes into things. Like he doesn't even realize what he's doing."

"You don't owe him anything," Lana said softly. "You really don't, hon."

"You keep hoping, don't you?" Kathy asked gently. Not judgmental—just real. "That maybe this time, he'll come through. That the guy you knew is still in there somewhere."

Missie didn't answer right away. She leaned back against the car. "I loved him," she said finally. "Not as much as I loved and still love Jack by any means."

Beth adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. "You're allowed to feel all of that, Missie. You don't have to explain it to us."

"Thank you," Missie said quietly. "All of you. For being here."

Whitney smiled, "Don't get all sentimental on us now. You still owe me a rematch in Uno."

"Please," Kaitlin smirked. "You two fight over Uno like it's a blood sport."

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"I still don't understand how they get the coffee in the cake," Johnny said, as he and Bobby sat in the sanctuary.

Bobby didn't laugh—just raised a brow. "Johnny, what the heck was that all about?" he asked, voice low but firm.. "I know you're upset, but you can't blame yourself for what Robby did."

"I'm not even allowed to see him. I'm not allowed since I'm on probation for that little incident in the, uh, parking garage." Johnny said

"Yeah, well, you're lucky it was only probation," Bobby said, shaking his head.

Johnny smirked, that same crooked grin that had gotten him both out of and into trouble since high school. "I'm lucky I knew a priest who put in a good word with the judge, thank you very much."

Bobby gave a soft chuckle. "I'm not a priest. How about we make a deal? You promise yourself to do positive things, be a better person."

Johnny looked at him like he'd heard that one before. "I already tried that. I put everything I had into my students, taught 'em to be tough and show mercy. Thought I was doing the right thing."

Bobby nodded slowly. "You were."

Johnny scoffed, bitter. "Yeah? Then why'd all this happen? I mean, you wanna punish me, fine. But Robby and Miguel—they're just kids."

"I know. I know. It isn't fair," Bobby said quietly, his voice softening. "But you gotta remember, you don't do the right thing because it always works out. You do the right thing because it's the right thing to do. Both those kids need you. And you need to be there for them, whether it works out or not. I can help you with Robby. The detention center will let you in if you're accompanied by a member of the clergy, so... how about we meet there tomorrow?"

Johnny's eyes lifted, some measure of hope flickering there. "That'd be great."

"Good," Bobby said with a small smile. "As for Miguel and his surgery, the church can make a nominal donation, but... we're still paying for our new roof."

"I wasn't even gonna ask," Johnny replied, shaking his head.

Bobby chuckled, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Hey, why not ask your stepdad to help out? He's still loaded, isn't he?"

Johnny made a face like he'd just bit into a lemon. "No way. Sid? That'd be his dream come true—me groveling for his money. I'll figure something out."

"I know you will." Bobby said, then down the aisle toward the spot Missie had been sitting earlier—composed, quiet, and hurting in a way only he and her children seemed to notice. "You need to make amends with Missie."

Johnny's expression tightened. He didn't look up. "She doesn't even want to see me." he muttered

Bobby turned to him. "Can you blame her?"

Johnny shook his head. "No. I just... I don't know how to fix it. I thought if I could make her laugh, say something dumb—she'd crack. Like she always used to."

"You showed up drunk and interrupted a sermon about forgiveness," Bobby said, his tone dry.

Johnny smirked bitterly. "Yeah. Real smooth."

"You want to fix it?" Bobby asked. "Start by staying sober. Stay present. And maybe stop treating every chance like it's owed to you. You want ti know the reason missie is so emotional today? It's her's and Jack's wedding anniversary. Look, she might not want to see you right now, but you still need to try."

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Missie sat curled up in the living room, laptop balanced on her knees, absently responding to emails from fellow art historians. Outside, the sun was starting to set, casting long golden streaks across the hardwood floors. The soft, bittersweet tune of Keith Whitley's "Miami, My Amy" spun on the old turntable in the corner—a song that had become something of a ritual on days like this. Days when the ache of missing Jack was too loud to ignore.

Missie hit send on the last email and closed the laptop with a sigh. The song crackled faintly in the background, weaving through the silence like a memory she couldn't let go of. Then—three sharp knocks. She frowned, rising to feet. When she opened the door, there he was. Johnny.

"Can I help you?" Missie asked coldly, folding her arms across her chest.

"Can I come in?" Johnny asked, his voice softer than she expected. "I need to talk to you."

Missie hesitated. Her heart wanted to slam the door, but she stepped aside. "You have five minutes. Make it count."

Johnny nodded and walked in, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa. He looked around, then at her. "What's going on with you?"

Missie scoffed. "Are you seriously asking me that right now?"

"Yeah. I am." Johnny said

"You disappear for weeks. Then you show up drunk at Bobby's sermon, making jokes about soccer moms and acting like you're still in high school. Now you're here, acting like nothing's happened?"

"I'm not proud of any of that," Johnny admitted. "I've been a mess. But I came here to say I'm sorry. Bobby told me about today. It's your anniversary." 

Missie joined him on the sofa, dabbing her eyes with the tissue. "You still love him. That's obvious."

"I always will," Missie whispered. "And today, more than ever, it feels like he's just barely out of reach. Like I could still turn a corner and find him standing there, smiling. God, he'd be so proud of the twins and the girls."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Brooke, Mason, Whitney, Kaitlin, Farrah—they're everything he hoped they'd become. He always told them to chase what felt right, even when it scared them." She wiped her cheek roughly and turned toward the record player.

Johnny's gaze followed the music. "Why that song?" he asked quietly.

Missie smiled, just barely. "It was one of Jack's favorites. One of the many he and I used to dance to. He said it reminded him that love doesn't always make sense, but the good ones? They stay anyway. Even after they're gone."

Johnny lowered his head, guilt twisting in his gut. "I've been selfish. Reckless. And I can't pretend I haven't hurt you along the way. But I want you to know how sorry I am."

Missie didn't say anything for a while. "I don't know what you're hoping for." she said finally

"Not hoping for anything," Johnny replied. "Just wanted to say what I should've said a long time ago. You didn't deserve to be let down by me. Not then. Not now."

"I know." Missie said, lacing her hand with his. "I forgive you. Thanks for listening. I never mean to make you feel uncomfortable, talking about Jack."

"You don't." Johnny said. "I don't mind you talking about him. He was your husband and Brooke and Mason's dad." Missie smiled and nodded, then continued. "I have something I need to take care of. You want to come with me?"

"I'd love to."

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Johnny parked the '93 Dodge Caravan outside the Encino mansion he had grown up in—well, from kindergarten on, anyway. As he and Missie stepped inside, they were led to the dining area, where Sid sat reading a magazine.

"Well, well, well," Sid said. "Lookie who's back. You even brought your little bitch with you."

"Nice to see you too, Sid." Missie rolled her eyes.

"I don't want to be here any longer than I have to," Johnny said.

"How's that karate thing going, huh?" Sid said, then mockingly gasped and placed his hands on his chest. "It didn't go under, did it? I'm shocked."

"This isn't about me," Johnny replied. "There's this kid, Miguel—"

"Yeah, I heard something about that. Your son and your student. Talk about role model. Mmm, mmm, mmm," Sid taunted.

As Johnny clenched his fists, Missie placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping him calm. "It's okay," she whispered.

"Oh hey, easy there, Rocko. Sounded like you were warming up to ask for another handout. And I'd hate for anything to jeopardize another payday," Sid said.

"All right, so you'll help me?" Johnny asked.

"I didn't say that either," Sid snapped.

"You can kick me around all you want, Sid. I'll take it. But Miguel doesn't deserve what happened to him. I need to make it right," Johnny said.

"Yeah, with my money," Sid scoffed.

"If I had anything to give, I would," Johnny said.

"But you got nothing to give because you're a loser. Like your father," Sid sneered, then turned to Missie. "Judging by your wedding ring, you were—or still are—married. Yet you're still going for the losers."

"Fuck you, Sid," Missie muttered, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"You can say whatever you want about me, but at least I stuck around," Sid said.

"Being a bully isn't much better than leaving. I'm trying to do better. I'm gonna see Robby. I'm scrapping together what I can to help Miguel's family," Johnny said.

"Pope John Lawrence the First, healer of children!" Sid mocked. "Bravo, bravo."

"You gonna help me or not? 'Cause I'd hate for that little incident with your secretary to get out to the public," Johnny said. "You know, start one of those hash brown Me Too things."

"I didn't get to where I am because I cared about my reputation," Sid snapped. "Now, get the hell out of here."

"You're a cold old man," Johnny said as he and Missie turned and walked out of the office.

"And don't you forget it, buster," Sid called after them.

They walked into the foyer as Johnny opened the front door. Before stepping out, Missie noticed a vase at the entrance. She pulled Johnny back inside, looked around the room once more, then grabbed the vase and handed it to him.

"It's gotta be worth something," Missie smirked. "I'd say: pawn it."

"That's my girl."