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𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 parked her jeep in front of the San Bernardino Hospice Center, her chest already heavy with the weight of the morning. Grabbing her nursing bag, she stepped inside. Nurse Annie was waiting at the desk, her expression soft but shaded with melancholy.

"Good morning, Stella," Annie said, embracing the brunette warmly.

"Morning, Annie. How's my favorite patient?" Stella asked as she signed in.

"He'll be glad to see you. He took a turn for the worse last night."

Stella's eyes burned, tears threatening. She drew in a breath, smoothing them away before they could fall. "I'll make my visit quick. I know his friends will be here soon."

Annie gave her a look full of seasoned compassion. "Sweetheart, something I've learned in my forty-five years of nursing—and this is just coming from an old nurse—as hard as it may be, this time is important. Not only for you, but for him as well."

Stella nodded, squeezing Annie's hand before heading down the quiet hall. Room 112 waited for her, door half-open, with the familiar sound of a football game on the TV.

Inside, Tommy sat propped up in bed, thin but alert, his eyes brightening when he saw her.

"You know, my dad was eternally grateful that someone explained football to me," Stella teased gently from the doorway.

Tommy's whole face lit. "There's my favorite nurse. Get in here," he said with a smile.

Her heart lifted as she stepped inside, setting her bag on the table. She sat beside him, slipping her hand into his. He squeezed it back, his grip weaker than last week's but still steady.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"The better question is, how do I look?"

Her throat tightened, but she smiled through it. "Very handsome."

"That's all I care about," Tommy replied with a grin.

She checked his vitals as he kept one eye on the game. When she was done, she made her notes, then tucked her stethoscope away.

"Well, your vital signs look okay," she said, glancing around. For the first time, she noticed photos pinned up on the wall—four young men with wide grins and black Cobra Kai gis. "Are those your friends?"

"Yeah," Tommy said, his voice softer now. "Johnny, Bobby, Jimmy, and Dutch. We all took Cobra Kai together, until December of '84... when our sensei tried to kill us."

"Yeah, I've met Johnny," Stella said, a faint smile touching her lips. "He lives in the same apartment complex in Reseda as my grandmother and my father. He's actually been a great friend to me, Tommy, but I feel something—"

"Something more?" Tommy asked knowingly.

She nodded, and he clasped her hand again. His tone was quiet but steady. "You've still got one thing that's very important, Stella."

Her brows lifted, eyes glistening. "What's that?"

"Time. You have time, Stella."

Her chest ached at his words. "Tommy, I've enjoyed coming up here to see you every week. You're the best patient I've ever had."

"You've made the process a lot easier," he said with a faint smile. "I've enjoyed your company. I know your mom would be proud of the nurse you are. You follow that dream you have and become a pediatrics nurse. You've got what it takes. Don't let anyone stop you. Out of all the nurses I've had, you're my favorite. I would have loved to have met your mom. She sounds wonderful."

Tears welled again, but Stella smiled through them, leaning forward to embrace him. His arms wrapped around her with surprising strength, and she held on. A soft knock broke the moment.

At the door stood a man in his fifties, a little shorter than Johnny, carrying himself with calm steadiness. His eyes went straight to Tommy, love and loyalty clear there.

"Ah, I see they've got me a priest," Tommy teased. "Stella, this is my best friend, Bobby Brown. Bobby, this is Stella Walker. She's the nurse who's been taking care of me."

Bobby stepped in with a warm, almost pastoral presence, and smiled kindly at her. "So you're the famous Stella?" He opened his arms and pulled her into a gentle embrace. "It's nice to officially meet you. I've heard good things. Thanks for all you've done for him."

Stella's smile warmed as she pulled back, her hand instinctively finding Tommy's again. "Of course. I've enjoyed visiting with him. Would you believe my football knowledge has actually improved because of him?"

Turning to his friend, Bobby's grin deepened. "No kidding?"

"Hey, what can I say? I'm an expert at football. Especially since I dated that college cheerleader for a while. Oh, Mindy Swartz—" Tommy started, only to be cut off.

"Alright, Tommy," Bobby said, his voice amused but fatherly. "I don't think Stella wants to hear that wild story of yours. Besides, if I remember correctly, it was a one-week stand."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Well, she was taking a break from her boyfriend."

Stella laughed softly, shaking her head. "I'll let you two visit. I need to give this report to Nurse Annie."

She leaned down to hug Tommy again. His hold was tighter this time, lingering. She didn't pull away too quickly.

"I'll see you later, kiddo."

"Bye, Tommy," she whispered, collecting her bag. Turning to Bobby, she gave a small, sincere smile. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Bobby."

"You as well, Stella," Bobby said warmly,

After finishing her report at the nurse's station, Stella walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the first floor. The doors slid open—and there he was. Johnny. His stance was rugged and restless, that sharp Cobra Kai energy about him, but when his piercing blue eyes landed on her, it melted away.

"Hey princess. What are you doing here?" Johnny asked

Stella's lips curved, her heart kicking in her chest. "Oh, I was doing my clinicals here today, and visiting my favorite patient." Her smile softened when she looked at him. "What about you?"

Johnny shifted, his voice carrying that old roughness, but his gaze softened on her. "My friend Tommy has cancer. My buddy Bobby called earlier and said he wasn't doing so well."

Stella's chest tightened, but her training reminded her of the line she couldn't cross. She couldn't tell Johnny that Tommy was her patient. "I'm so sorry, Johnny. Listen, I promised Grandma I'd meet her for a late breakfast, but I'll have my phone on me. Call me if you need anything. Okay?"

Johnny's hand reached for her, pulling her in close. His tough exterior fell away, and in its place was something tender—unspoken, but real. He smiled, then kissed her, and though it wasn't long, it said everything they hadn't yet put into words. She pulled back with a lingering glance before walking out the door toward her truck. Johnny stepped into the elevator, watching her go until the doors closed.

Inside, he squared his shoulders, armor snapping back into place. "Hey, I'm looking for a friend," Johnny said.

"Johnny," Bobby said, turning around. His eyes lit up as he slapped a supportive five with the blonde, then pulled him into an embrace. "You look good, man. Few more wrinkles, but you know, not too bad."

"Yeah, what about you?" Johnny shot back. "You'd think with all that preaching and praying, you'd get your hair back."

Bobby smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah. Unfortunately, God doesn't work that way. But, uh... I've definitely been doing a lot of praying since, you know..." His voice dropped, his eyes sliding toward the hospital room.

"Yeah... how's he doing?" Johnny asked.

"He'll be happy to see you, Johnny. Room 112."

Johnny strode down the hall, pausing at the open door. Inside, Tommy sat propped against his pillows, the TV blaring soccer.

"You're watching soccer? It's worse than I thought," Johnny muttered.

"Johnny," Tommy said, breaking into a grin as he reached for the remote and shut the TV off. "You didn't have to come all the way out here."

"Yeah, you gonna come and see me?" Johnny teased, stepping inside.

"Yeah, right," Tommy chuckled.

"Does it hurt?" Johnny asked, his tone quieter now.

"Nah. Meds do their job," Tommy said. He glanced toward the doorway, spotting Bobby leaning against the frame. "Oh, did you see, they already got me a priest."

Bobby shook his head, smiling. "I'm a pastor, Tommy. But if you wanna confess about that 50 bucks you still owe me, the big guy's listening."

Tommy's laugh quickly broke into a cough. Johnny's eyes tightened. "You're gonna fight this."

"Nah. That part's done," Tommy said, tapping his head. "It's in here now. Besides, you were always a better fighter."

"Bullshit. Remember that tournament back in '83? You beat Vidal to get to the semis."

"Yeah. Who beat me in the finals?" Tommy asked with a smirk.

Johnny gave a reluctant laugh. "All right, yeah. But you didn't make it easy on me."

The door opened again, and Jimmy slipped in, phone in hand. "Yes, hon. I know. All right, I love you too. All right, gotta go, bye. Sorry I'm late."

"Hey, Jimmy," Bobby said, embracing him.

"Hey," Jimmy greeted, then crossed the room to embrace Johnny.

"Hey, buddy," Johnny said, clapping his shoulder.

Jimmy made his way to Tommy's bedside and took his hand. "Jenny and the kids send their love."

"Aw, tell Jen and the boys I said hi," Tommy said, his grin faint but real.

Just then, a nurse came in. Tommy frowned. "Oh, you again." He wished it had been Annie—or better yet, Stella. Stella, who always made the room feel brighter. "Guys, just give me a minute."

The curtain was drawn, and the three men stepped aside. Jimmy lowered his voice. "I spoke with the doc. He can sign out for 24 hours, but I don't know... is he even gonna be able to make it to the car?"

"What are you talking about?" Johnny asked sharply.

"You didn't tell him?" Jimmy looked at Bobby.

Bobby sighed. "Look, we can't let Tommy rot in this place. He deserves better."

Johnny's brow furrowed. "What do you have in mind?"

"Road trip. Give the guy a wild night to remember," Bobby said.

They fell silent when the nurse passed by, but the moment she was gone, the conversation picked back up.

"I don't know, man, in his condition—" Johnny started.

A loud beeping cut him off. The three men rushed forward, only to find Tommy yanking out his IV with a grin.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Tommy laughed.

They spilled out into the sunlight, Bobby holding the door. On the steps, Johnny and Tommy immediately turned on Jimmy, teasing him about his car.

"Look at this thing, what did your wife take your balls too?" Johnny said, making Tommy and Bobby laugh.

"Hey, this is the safest car in its class," Jimmy protested.

"You said you had a pussy wagon, not a wagon for pussies," Tommy cracked, sending Bobby into laughter again.

"All right, back me up— isn't it a sin to make fun of another man's ride?" Jimmy asked Bobby.

"Jimmy," Bobby deadpanned, "even God doesn't like this car."

Tommy roared with laughter.

"You guys got something better in mind?" Jimmy asked.

Johnny's expression shifted, that spark lighting in his eyes. He looked around at his old friends and smirked. "I've got an idea."

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"Hi, sweetheart," Janette said as she opened the passenger door of the truck and slid in. She leaned over immediately, wrapping her granddaughter in a warm embrace.

"Hi, Grandma. You ready to go?" Stella smiled, hugging her back before reaching for the ignition.

The truck roared to life—and so did Alice Cooper's Poison, blasting through the speakers. Stella winced, fumbling for the knob. She had forgotten to turn the volume down before shutting off the truck last time. Glancing at her grandmother, she quickly twisted the dial and offered, "I'll put in another tape. Pretty sure I've got a George and Tammy one in here somewhere."

Janette arched a brow and reached over, turning the radio right back up. "Who said I wanted you to put in another tape?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"I mean—I... I just—I thought—" Stella stammered, pulling out of the parking lot.

"You thought your grandma was too old to enjoy some Alice Cooper?" Janette teased gently. "You forget, dear, your mother used to have me watch MTV with her. She'd educate me on all the great rock bands and singers."

Stella laughed, "I remember she used to get so annoyed when Daddy didn't want to listen to her mix tapes."

"I remember," Janette chuckled, eyes misting with nostalgia as they neared the diner. "Even though I love rock, I still love my George Jones."

"So that's why Daddy loves George Jones so much?" Stella asked, grinning as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"You better believe it, hon." Janette smiled, doing the same. The two women climbed out of the Impala, their laughter lingering in the air as they walked toward the diner together.

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After trading in their cars for motorcycles, the four friends found themselves gathered around a scarred wooden table in a dimly lit bar. The jukebox hummed low in the corner, neon lights casting a soft glow across their faces. Johnny returned from the counter, pitcher of beer in hand, as Bobby was already mid-laugh.

"Then there was that time Tommy got that horrible fake ID," Bobby said, grinning. "Bartender served us all dishwater."

"And I drank the whole thing because I didn't know what beer was supposed to taste like," Tommy added, shaking his head with a laugh.

"I remember that," Johnny said, sliding the pitcher onto the table and filling their glasses.

"We made up for it the next weekend," Jimmy said, lifting his glass. "Dutch got so hammered he stole the dartboard."

"Oh no, he didn't steal it. He smashed it," Bobby corrected. "That's the first time he went to juvie."

Johnny leaned back with a smirk. "Man, I got so wasted that night, I missed Ali's birthday."

"Oh, that's right. Boy, she reamed you out," Bobby said.

Johnny's smirk faded. "She did more than that, man. She dumped my ass." He took a long swallow of beer, and silence settled over the table for a beat.

"Well, that's her loss, huh?" Tommy said quickly, breaking the quiet. He shifted in his chair. "So, uh... Dutch is still at Lompoc, huh?"

"Yeah, last I heard," Jimmy said.

Johnny raised his glass with a crooked grin. "To Dutch. When the judge said five to ten—"

"She really meant ten to twenty," Bobby finished, and the four clinked their glasses together before taking a drink.

Jimmy set his glass down. "What about you, Johnny? Last I heard you were laying bricks?"

"I wasn't laying bricks. Maybe some light stucco," Johnny said with a smirk. "Actually, I, uh, opened a karate dojo."

Bobby blinked. "What? For real?"

"Yeah. It's over in Reseda. It's doing pretty well. Lots of good kids," Johnny said.

"What's it called?" Tommy asked.

Johnny paused—not out of hesitation, but as if weighing whether he should tell them. Finally, he said, "It's called Cobra Kai."

Bobby's eyes widened. "You brought back Cobra Kai?"

"Yeah. It's not all that's back," Johnny replied, taking another sip. He didn't need to elaborate. They all knew who he meant. John Kreese.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Jimmy said flatly.

"It's not stupid," Johnny shot back, bristling.

"John Kreese is bad news. All that crap we dealt with after high school? Taking that no mercy bullshit out into the world?" Bobby said, his voice edged with frustration.

"You got it the worst, man. Don't you remember?" Jimmy asked.

"Of course I remember," Johnny said sharply, then steadied himself. "But people can change." He leaned forward, meeting their skeptical looks. "Just like Cobra Kai can change."

Bobby scoffed. Jimmy shook his head. "Yeah right."

"I'm trying to change Cobra Kai. And Kreese is on board," Johnny pressed.

Tommy's voice broke the tension. "Do you trust him, Johnny?"

"You know Kreese. He always has something up his sleeve," Bobby muttered.

"Nah. He's a different man," Johnny said firmly. He lifted his glass again. "Besides, doesn't it say something in your book about forgiveness? 'Cause all I know is everyone deserves a second chance."

Bobby leaned back, unconvinced, while Jimmy frowned into his drink.

Tommy cleared his throat, unwilling to let the moment sour further. "You know what I think? I wanna play some pool. You guys wanna play some pool with me?"

Johnny pushed back his chair immediately, glad for the change in subject. "I'll play some pool with you, Tommy. Come on. Let's go get a table."

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"How was your visit with your patient?" Janette asked as she drizzled syrup over her pancakes.

"It was alright," Stella said, stirring creamer into her coffee. "He's not doing too well though. He's actually a friend of Johnny's. Turns out his cancer is bad, and Johnny and his friends took him out for a night."

Janette paused with her fork in hand. "In his condition, do you think he can handle that?"

"I mean, nothing's impossible. And it beats the alternative," Stella said, pouring ketchup on her hash browns. She glanced up with a small smile. "So... is there something in particular you'd like to do after this?"

Janette's face softened as she thought. "Well, your grandfather was always a huge Joni Mitchell fan. Yes, he loved country—we danced to plenty of George Jones—but he always had a special place for Joni. He used to say that if he ever got the chance to visit California, he'd want to see her old home."

"Why don't we try to find it?" Stella said, pulling out her phone and searching. She held the screen toward her grandmother. "Is that it?"

Janette's eyes lit up. "That's it. That's the house."

"Then after we finish eating, what do you say we go?" Stella grinned.

"I'd love that, Stella Blue," Janette said warmly. "Did your daddy ever tell you that's the reason your middle name is Blue?"

Stella blinked. "No, but it makes perfect sense. You and Gramps always played her albums. Even Mom loved Joni."

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After lunch, Stella steered the Impala up into Laurel Canyon until they pulled into the driveway of Joni Mitchell's old home, now long vacated. The air carried that quiet canyon stillness, shaded by eucalyptus and bougainvillea.

Janette unbuckled her seatbelt, her eyes wide, and stepped out of the car. "I can't believe I'm here." She turned, wrapping her arms around her granddaughter. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Of course, Grandma," Stella said softly.

"You know," Janette added as she reached for the gate, "Joni lived in this house with Graham Nash. And look—the gate's open. Come on."

They walked up the path together. When Janette stood in the driveway of her husband's idol's home, her throat tightened as if tears weren't far behind. "Did you know Graham Nash wrote the song Our House about this place?"

"No, I sure didn't," Stella admitted, smiling.

"One morning, Joni and Graham had breakfast at Art's Deli in the Valley. Afterwards, they were strolling down Ventura Boulevard, and Joni spotted this vase she really liked in a shop window. They bought it, brought it back here, and Graham suggested she pick flowers for the vase while he built a fire." Janette's voice grew hushed. "That's when he wrote Our House."

"Gramps loved that song," Stella said with a tender smile.

Janette closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the memory, then opened them again. "An otherwise ordinary morning might have been forgotten if it weren't for that song. Blue... thank you for bringing me here." She pulled her granddaughter close, her voice thick with emotion.

"Of course, Grandma." Stella squeezed her back. "You know I'll do anything for you."

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"Today was fun, Johnny," Tommy said, as he and Johnny sat around the campfire, sipping beer.

"You still got some moves, man. You should stop by the dojo sometime," Johnny said, smiling.

"Yeah right. Just like the good old days," Tommy replied with a grin. "Where'd all that time go?"

"I don't know," Johnny said, leaning back against the log, his eyes catching the flicker of firelight.

"You know, there was something I never told you. Didn't think you needed to know...but screw it. I was in love with Ali," Tommy confessed.

"What?" Johnny laughed, shaking his head.

"Freshman year. We were in the same homeroom. We used to talk all the time. I was building up the courage to ask her out, when...someone else struck first. That's why I joined Cobra Kai. I wanted to have the balls that you had. Without the smell."

"I didn't think I would ever get over her. I dated plenty of babes after. I never let my guard down with any of them, you know? Not like with Ali." Johnny said, then he smiled fondly, thoughts of his beautiful Stella coming to mind. "That is until..."

"Until what?" Tommy asked.

"Stella Walker. She's a nursing student, she's amazing and special. She's beautiful in every way. Her brother's my top student. She brings out the best in me, and I wanna be a better man for her, because I know she deserves it. She's been through so much, and through it all, she's truly helped me." Johnny's voice was quiet now, almost reverent, and a soft smile lingered as he looked into the fire.

"Stella's my nurse. You're right about one thing, she's special. She was the only nurse who I didn't scare away," Tommy said, and Johnny chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "But, you still got one thing that's more important than anything, Johnny."

"What's that?" Johnny asked.

"Time. You still have time," Tommy said. "Stella told me how she feels about you. You both like each other, don't let a wonderful girl like her slip away."

Johnny looked down at his beer for a moment, then back at the flames, a quiet determination settling over him. "Right now, all I wanna do is make sure my students don't make the same mistakes that we did. I don't want them to look back at their life full of regret." But even as he said it, the thought of Stella lingered in his chest, warm and unshakable. You're a liar, Johnny. You know you want her.

"You'll do it, Johnny. You're the champ," Tommy said. Johnny put a hand on Tommy's shoulder, feeling the weight of both history and friendship, and Tommy patted Johnny's leg in return. Johnny let himself linger in that moment, smiling softly, thinking of Stella, and all the ways she made him want to be better.

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The next morning, Stella stood in the kitchen, waiting for her coffee to brew when her phone vibrated on the counter. She glanced at the caller ID—San Bernardino Hospice Center. Her heart sank. Picking up the phone, she pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?" Stella answered.

"Stella? It's Annie," came the soft voice on the other end.

"Oh, good morning Annie. Is everything alright?" Stella asked, though her chest already felt tight.

There was a pause. Then Annie's voice broke gently. "I'm so sorry honey. Tommy passed away last night."

The words hit Stella like a punch to the gut. Her knees weakened, her grip on the phone trembling as the room blurred. Tommy—her favorite clinicals patient, one of her dearest friends. He was gone. All those afternoons filled with laughter and stories, gone forever

"Stella, are you still there, sweetheart?" Annie asked softly.

"Y—Yeah," Stella whispered, sinking into the chair at the table, trying to catch her breath, to keep herself from shattering.

"I just think you should know, just in the short time he knew you, he was very fond of you."

Stella's throat burned as tears welled. "I was very fond of him too," she managed, her voice breaking as quiet sobs escaped.

Annie hesitated, then said gently, "His friends are here, and one with the blonde hair—Johnny, I guess is his name—has been asking for you."

Johnny. Hearing his name somehow steadied her. "Of course," Stella said quickly. "Let him know I'm on my way. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She ended the call, grabbed her purse and keys, and headed for the door.

When Stella arrived at the hospice center, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled her lungs as she walked toward the waiting area. There he was—Johnny—sitting stiffly, elbows on his knees, his head lowered. Even in that moment, even with pain etched across his face, there was a raw strength in him. But his energy wasn't fire like usual—it was smoke, smoldering grief threatening to burn out.

Bobby and Jimmy were quietly speaking with a doctor, but Johnny didn't notice anyone. Not until he saw her.

The second Stella stepped into his line of sight, Johnny shot to his feet like the ground had jolted him. He didn't say a word, just closed the distance in two strides and pulled her into his arms. Hard. Like she was the only thing keeping him upright. And maybe she was.

Stella melted against him, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, her tears soaking into his black jacket. He didn't let go—not for a second—as if letting go meant falling apart completely.

"I'm so sorry, Johnny," she whispered into his chest, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry."

His hand slid up into her hair, gripping gently, his face buried against her temple. His voice was low, hoarse, and painfully sincere. "I'm so glad you're here."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands still on his shoulders. "You know I'm always going to be here for you. I've always got you."

That promise lingered like an oath neither of them would ever break.

"Hey, Stella," Bobby's voice broke through softly.

Reluctantly, Stella eased from Johnny's arms, though his hand stayed at the small of her back like he couldn't quite let go. She hugged Bobby, her voice warm. "I'm so sorry, Bobby. I know y'all had been friends since y'all were in middle school."

Jimmy approached next, his expression gentle. "Tommy told us how kind you were to him, and even on the days you didn't have clinicals, you would still come visit him. He really appreciated that, and he didn't feel as lonely. I'm Jimmy by the way." He hugged her softly.

"Oh, it's a pleasure meeting you, Jimmy. And I enjoyed our visits. I'll miss him laying on that call light though—because he wanted to see how fast it took nurse Annie to get there," Stella said with a quiet, tearful laugh.

"That sounds like something he would do," Bobby said, smiling faintly.

Stella nodded, then glanced back at Johnny before saying gently, "Well, I know you guys probably want to talk, and I have to talk to nurse Annie, so I'll see y'all later." She offered a small smile.

"Bye, Stella."

But Johnny's eyes followed her until she disappeared down the hall.

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Later, Johnny sat on the edge of Stella's couch, elbows resting on his knees, a beer loose in his hand. He looked out of place in her cozy living room—like a warrior stripped of his armor. Stella walked in, barefoot, and handed him another cold one before settling next to him.

"How are you holding up?" she asked softly.

He took a swig, shrugged like it didn't matter, but his jaw was tight. "I'm alright."

Stella studied him. She knew that tone—tough guy, holding everything in, just like always. "It's crazy, how it all happens so fast," she murmured.

Johnny stared down at the bottle in his hands. His voice was low, gravelly. "With my mom, I had a chance to say goodbye, but I guess I never really found peace." He exhaled slowly. "I remember after she died, I used to have these nightmares. Sometimes I still have them."

Stella's chest tightened. She understood nightmares—understood grief that crawled into your dreams and wouldn't leave. "Tell me about them," she said gently.

Johnny's eyes lifted to hers—those blue eyes steady, warm, a lifeline he didn't even know he needed. His voice cracked slightly when he spoke.

"Off and on after she died. I can't really remember all the details. One thing I do remember—that asshole Sid blamed me for her death." Johnny set the beer on the table, his hands balling into fists for a second before relaxing. "I just remember after having them, I felt helpless. I had no one to talk to about it. It's stupid, I know."

Stella reached over, taking his hand in hers, her voice firm, tender. "No, Johnny. In no way, shape or form, is that even close to stupid. I understand. I truly do. I had the worst dreams after my mama died. They always involved excruciating headaches, mainly in the back of my head."

"The accident?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"Yeah. It seems so obvious to me now, but it didn't to me at the time—not until I talked to grandma. I learned to tell myself that they were just dreams, and it gave me control. And now, the dreams about my mom are good. They're happy. Sometimes I still have bad dreams, but for the most part, they're happy. They make me feel like I'm creating new memories of her. You can do that too. Just talk to someone, even if it's me. It's better than torturing yourself. Trust me."

Johnny's throat tightened as he stared at her—the only person who had ever gotten past his walls like this. Without a word, he pulled her against him, his arms strong and desperate, like he never wanted to let go. His voice was raw when it came. "You truly are amazing, Stella. I don't know what I've done to deserve you." He pressed a kiss to her hair, lingering.

Her voice was soft but unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere, hon. You know I'm always going to be here for you. No matter what." She smiled against his chest, and for the first time all day, he let himself breathe.