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𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆, Stella and her father, along with Janette, the girls, and Carter, went to Sunday service at Bobby's church to hear his sermon. Bobby had personally invited them, and though Nathan wasn't much for crowds, he respected the man and wanted to be there for Stella.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned." Bobby began, holding up his Bible. "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."

Stella smiled softly as she listened. Bobby's voice had that rare gift—it calmed you, pulled you in. She glanced at her father. Nathan's eyes were closed, his chest rising with a steadying breath. It wasn't often he let himself unclench, but in that moment, she swore she saw the man finding a sliver of peace. Maybe, just maybe, he was finally starting to forgive himself for what happened with Ava.

Moved, Stella slipped her hand into his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Nathan opened his eyes, meeting her gaze, and answered her with a small but tender smile.

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

"Bullshit!"

The word cut sharp across the sanctuary.

Heads turned. Stella's heart plummeted when she saw Johnny stumbling down the aisle, clearly drunk. Nathan's jaw tightened, every muscle in his body going rigid as he shifted in his seat, instinctively placing himself slightly closer to Stella.

"What about that time in Reno, with those soccer moms at the Hyatt?" Johnny slurred, his smirk crooked and his eyes glassy. Stella's breath hitched, her chest stinging as her eyes burned with tears. "Did God forgive any of us for that?"

Bobby's eyes flicked to Stella—saw the devastation there—and then back at Johnny. "Yes, even that. Forgiveness is the core of Christianity."

"Stell, are you alright, hon?" Lori whispered, her hand wrapping around Stella's hand protectively.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," Stella said quickly, swiping at her tears.

Johnny swayed, giving an exaggerated shrug. "I wouldn't know that. Not much of a churchgoer."

"Maybe you should start," Nathan muttered, voice low, steady, and edged with steel.

Janette, gentle as ever, placed a calming hand on his arm. "Nathan, not here."

Bobby stepped in, smoothing the tension. "I'm sorry. Apologies everyone. My friend here is going through some tough times."

Johnny straightened slightly, puffing up in false confidence. "Nothing I can't handle." He leaned on the nearest pew—Stella's pew. His hand gripped the edge right where her father sat, and Nathan's protective glare burned into him. But Johnny's eyes weren't on Nathan. They were on Stella. His grin turned softer, more personal, as he winked at her.

Stella turned her face away, heart twisting, disgust in her expression—but Johnny's eyes lingered on her longer than anyone noticed, filled with something rawer, truer, than his drunk swagger betrayed.

"Johnny, I'm in the middle of a sermon," Bobby's patience finally frayed. "So why don't you take a seat—"

"Y'know," Johnny slurred, gesturing at Bobby, "this guy was a real badass back in the day. Fighting, partying, drinking. Sucks you're not allowed to get laid anymore, man."

"How many times I gotta tell you," Bobby snapped, "I'm not a priest."

"Oh, so your wang can still get tang? Nice." Johnny smirked, his words sloppy.

"Forgive me father," Bobby muttered.

"For what?" Johnny asked, brows furrowed.

Bobby answered by sweeping Johnny's leg out from under him. The blonde hit the ground hard. Gasps rippled through the congregation, but Bobby simply stood, smoothing his coat with measured calm.

Carter was on his feet in an instant, protective instincts sharp. He reached down, helping Johnny up and steering him firmly into the pew beside him. Kara and Amy leaned into each other, whispering, wide-eyed, while Lori shook her head with a glossy, disbelieving laugh under her breath.

The sermon resumed, but the air stayed heavy. Johnny sat slouched, head bowed, occasionally glancing sideways at Stella with that stubborn, vulnerable ache in his eyes. Nathan caught him each time, returning the look with a silent, dangerous warning: don't you dare.

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August sat in his hospital room, laptop balanced on his knees as Pure Country played on the screen. It had always been one of his favorites growing up, a film the Walkers used to watch together as a family.

"Hey." Sam's voice was soft as she stepped inside, a small smile on her face.

"Hey." August greeted back, shifting upright a little.

"I hope it's okay, me just showing up like this. How are you? I mean... sorry, that's a stupid question."

August chuckled. "It's okay. I've got surgery on Friday. Some doctor from out of state who supposedly works miracles."

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

"I'm not getting my hopes up. The surgery costs a ton, and my family's gonna be in debt. No guarantee it'll work."

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

August's gaze drifted to Sam's arm, where bruising peeked out from under her sleeve. "Is that from Tory?"

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

"I'm sorry about that, Sam."

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

"Tory's had a rough life. Her mom's sick and—"

"Everybody's got a sob story," Sam cut in, her tone sharp. "Doesn't give you the right to be a bully. I just... I wanted to give you this." She held out a small card, the front decorated with a cartoon octopus and the words You Octopi My Thoughts! Her voice wavered as she added, "August, I'm so sorry. For all of this." Tears shimmered in her eyes.

"It's uh... it's okay," August said quietly.

"El Serpiente!" Hawk's voice suddenly rang out as he strode in, his face shifting when he noticed Sam.

"I'm gonna go." Sam turned for the door.

"Okay, yeah." August tried to smile.

"You've got some nerve coming here after what your boyfriend did," Hawk snapped.

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

"Pretty sure you've done enough, princess," Hawk muttered, brushing past her. His mood shifted instantly as he looked to August with a grin. "Hey bro."

"What's up, man?" August said with a soft smile, reaching up for a supportive five.

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

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The church had mostly emptied, leaving only a few stragglers lingering in the aisles. Nathan stood stiff, his hand braced on the back of a pew, watching Johnny sway near the exit as though he had all the time in the world. His jaw flexed, and when Janette saw the look in his eyes, her heart sank.

"Nathan..." she murmured gently, hand on his shoulder. "Let it go. Not here. We're in the house of God."

But Nathan shook his head, his jaw set like stone. "Not letting that son of a bitch walk out after what he just pulled." His voice was calm, but heavy—like a warning before lightning struck.

Johnny lingered near the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. Normally, he'd mouth off—some smartass comment about cops, authority, or whatever line came to mind. But Nathan wasn't just another officer. The man's Texas Ranger presence hit different: steady, rooted, no bluff to call. Johnny cleared his throat, straightening slightly.

Nathan walked over, boots striking the wood floor with quiet weight, stopping close enough to look him dead in the eye. "You humiliated my daughter in front of God and everyone. You show up drunk, run your mouth about soccer moms like it's something to brag about, and then you have the nerve to wink at her?" His voice was calm but thunderous, like a storm rolling over the plains.

Nathan stepped closer and Johnny instantly tensed. "She's not just some girl you can treat like another notch in your belt. She's my daughter. And she's hurting. You stay the hell away from her if you can't be the man she needs."

Johnny's throat worked. He swallowed, forcing his words out steady, almost defiant. "I screwed up, yeah. But you don't get it, Walker. I don't just care about her." His voice roughened, his mask slipping. "I love Stella."

For a second, silence pressed down like a storm.

Nathan's eyes darkened, his body snapping taut. Janette's hand flew to his arm just as he stepped in closer.  His voice dropped to a growl that rumbled in his chest. "Don't you ever say that to me again. You think showing up drunk, dragging her heart through the mud, is love?" He jabbed a finger into Johnny's chest, controlled but dangerous. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll make damn sure she's never around you again. You'll be gone from her life for good."

Johnny's jaw clenched. For once, no smirk came. His swagger flickered, but he held Nathan's gaze with a raw honesty. "You can hate me all you want, but it doesn't change how I feel. I love her. And I'm not walking away."

Nathan's fists clenched at his sides, his breath sharp through his nose. For a long beat, he just stared at Johnny, sizing him up, torn between decking him and dragging him outside to teach him a lesson. But then he caught Janette's eyes—calm, pleading, steady.

Janette's voice trembled as she pulled at Nathan's arm. "Nathan, please. Not here."

Nathan stayed locked on Johnny for a long, dangerous moment, breathing hard through his nose, before finally stepping back with a sharp shake of his head. "Then prove it," he bit out. "Be a man. Because the next time you hurt her, Ranger or not, I won't be able to stop myself."

He turned on his heel, boots echoing like a verdict.

Janette lingered just a moment longer, her soft eyes on Johnny. "If you love her... then show it the right way. She deserves nothing less."

Johnny exhaled sharply as they left, running a hand down his face. For once, the church was quiet, and so was he. Under his breath, he muttered, almost to himself, "I do love her. More than she knows."

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"You okay, Stell?" Lori asked, her voice laced with concern as she looped her arm through Stella's while they walked out of the church together. Kara, Amy, and Carter trailed close behind.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just tired," Stella said, digging through her purse as they reached her jeep.

"You're the world's most horrible liar," Lori quipped, flipping her hair. "Which is why you never win card games."

"Hey, I always win card games, and you know it," Stella countered with a faint smile as she unlocked the car and tossed her purse inside.

"Don't look now—blondie at three o'clock," Amy muttered, rolling her eyes.

Stella glanced over her shoulder and immediately stiffened. Johnny was striding toward them, his walk uneven but determined. With a sharp sigh, she slipped into the driver's seat, started the engine, and pulled away without a word.

Johnny slowed as the taillights disappeared. "What's her problem?" he asked, half-defensive, half-confused.

"Can't you take a hint, you dumb shit?" Amy snapped, her coolness sharp as glass.

"Yeah," Kara added, crossing her arms. "She doesn't want to see you right now."

Johnny frowned, hands splaying. "What are you talking about?"

Lori stepped forward, eyes flashing. "Oh, you can't figure it out? Let us explain. You've been ignoring her calls for weeks, you crash Pastor Brown's sermon drunk, then brag about screwing soccer moms when you know she's absolutely crazy for you?!"

Johnny blinked, then shook his head. "Look, I threw my phone away—that's why I haven't been returning her calls—"

"Yeah, that's the world's oldest excuse." Lori rolled her eyes dramatically, folding her arms.

Kara's tone softened slightly. "Look, we know you're going through a lot with what happened to August, but you're not the only one. Think about her. That's her brother, Johnny. They've always been close."

Johnny's jaw flexed, and for the first time, the cocky façade cracked. His voice was low, almost raw. "I wasn't there for her when she needed me. She's gonna hate me."

"No, she won't," Amy said firmly. "You just need to show her you're there now. Try."

Johnny looked between them, uncertain. "How do you know she won't hate me?"

That's when Carter finally spoke up, his voice calm but edged with protectiveness as he slipped his arm around Lori's waist. "Because we're her best friends. We know her better than she knows herself. And right now? She doesn't need a badass, or some drunk with excuses—she needs somebody steady." He fixed Johnny with a steady stare. "If you're not ready to be that for her, then do us all a favor and back off."

Johnny held Carter's gaze for a long moment. His jaw tightened, but his eyes flicked away, softening as though the words cut deeper than he wanted to admit.

"Johnny," Amy added gently, breaking the silence, "Stella may try to push you away—believe me, she's tried pushing all of us away for weeks—but you can't let her. You need to let her know you're there."

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Flashback
— Summer 1988, Austin, TX

The soft melody of Tammy Wynette's Help Me Make It Through the Night drifted through Ava's bedroom as she sat at her desk, pen in hand. Her delicate script filled the page of a letter addressed to her cowboy, Nathan Walker. When she finished, she carefully underlined I love you in red, her heart swelling at the words. Setting the pen aside, she reached up and untied the pink ribbon from her long blonde hair, placing it gently on the nightstand like a promise.

"Hey, Kellie, when you go into town tomorrow, will you mail this letter for me?" Ava asked as she stepped to the doorway.

"Of course. This is the third letter this week. I thought you and Nathan would be calling each other on the phone." Kellie smiled as she took the envelope.

"Oh, he's kind of old-fashioned—and it's even kind of cute." Ava's lips curved into a fond smile. "That's one thing I really like about him."

"Well, he must have even hung the moon." Kellie laughed.

"Kellie." Ava laughed with her, shaking her head.

"Love you, sis." Kellie grinned, wrapping her arms around her sister.

"Love you too." Ava returned the embrace warmly, holding tight for just a moment longer.

──────

Stella wiped her tears as she read the love letter her mother wrote to her father, about overcoming adversity, something a couple should get through together. Carefully placing the letter back in its box, she heard a sharp knock at the door.

Setting the box on the end table, she opened the door to find Johnny standing there, hands shoved in his pockets like he owned the damn place.

Rolling her eyes, arms crossed tight over her chest, she shot him a look. "What do you want? Here to brag about banging all the soccer moms in the Valley?"

Johnny smirked, tilting his head like the cocky bastard he was. "What? You jealous?"

"Fuck you, asshole." She went to slam the door, but his hand shot out, gripping it before it closed.

"Not until you talk to me," he said, jaw set.

"I did talk to you, dumbass. Now let go of my fucking door."

"Not gonna happen." His voice was calm, steady—but his eyes had that storm brewing behind them. "Stella, just... let me explain."

Her nostrils flared, tears threatening again. "Explain what? How you ghosted me for weeks? How you ignored every call? Screw you."

"Please." His tone shifted—still Johnny, but softer now, that rare side of him he only showed her.

She stared him down for another long beat, then exhaled sharply and stepped back. "Fine. You've got three minutes. Go."

Johnny walked in, pacing like a caged tiger before turning to face her. "I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to disappear on you. I didn't have my phone—"

She barked a bitter laugh. "Oh, that's original. The world's oldest excuse."

"It's not an excuse—it's the truth. But you're right. I should've been there for you, and I wasn't. That's on me." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. "I screwed up. Kreese took the dojo, August got hurt... I thought you didn't wanna see me. Thought maybe you were better off without me."

"Johnny..." Her voice cracked as the anger melted into heartbreak. "You're wrong. I wanted to see you more than anything. I needed you." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "You don't know how lost I felt without you."

In two strides, he was in front of her. He cupped her cheek in his calloused hand, his thumb brushing away the wetness. His voice dropped, raw and aching. "Stella... I know I don't deserve it, but I'm begging for your forgiveness. I'm sorry. For all of it."

Her small hands covered his, holding them against her skin. She rested her forehead against his, her voice trembling. "I wanted you there when August was in the ICU. But when you didn't answer my calls... I thought something happened to you."

Johnny tilted his head, eyes locking on hers. "How many times I gotta tell you, princess? I'm a survivor." His thumb traced her cheekbone like it was something fragile he never wanted to break.

"Doesn't matter," she whispered. "Anything could happen. Amanda said something about you and Daniel visiting a prison? Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"Nah. Just a couple punks Robby used to run with." He dropped down onto the couch, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But Robby... he's in juvie. And that's on me."

She sat beside him, fingers lacing through his. Her voice was steady now, full of that quiet strength he loved. "Johnny, you've got a second chance to make things right. And you know I'll help you any way I can. Always."

He looked at her like she was the only solid thing in his messed-up world. "Yeah. Me too."

"For the record..." She pressed her forehead to his again, her breath warm against his lips. "I forgive you. Just promise me something."

"Anything."

"Don't shut me out when shit gets hard. Don't push me away. You don't have to fight every battle alone."

"I promise." His voice was low, certain.

"Good." A small smile touched her lips. "Now go fix what needs fixing—and call me when you do."

Johnny stared at her for a long second, his chest rising and falling like he was trying to hold something back. Then he gave that half-smirk, the one that melted her every damn time. "Yeah... sure. Just one thing first."

Before she could ask, his hands framed her face and his mouth crashed into hers.

It wasn't gentle. It was weeks of silence, anger, and longing igniting all at once. She gasped into the kiss, fingers clutching his leather jacket like a lifeline as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight against him. His lips moved with a hunger that said everything his words couldn't—that he'd missed her, wanted her, needed her.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, foreheads pressed together, Johnny's voice was hoarse. "I'm never walking away from you again, Stella. Never."

Her heart pounded against his chest. "You better not."

He smirked again, softer this time, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. "Guess I'm not leaving just yet."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Johnny pulled the beat-up '93 Dodge Caravan up the long circular driveway of the Encino mansion—the house that had never felt like home but had been his prison since kindergarten. Steeling himself, he strode inside and was led to Sid's office.

Sid sat behind a massive oak desk, reading some glossy magazine like he was king of the goddamn world. Without looking up, he smirked.

"Well, well, well, well, well." Sid finally set the magazine down, his lips curling into that smug grin Johnny hated. "Lookie who's back."

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

"How's that karate thing going, huh?" Sid mocked, pressing a hand to his chest in fake concern. "Didn't go under yet? I'm shocked."

"This isn't about me." Johnny stepped closer, voice low. "There's this kid, August—"

"Yeah, yeah. Heard something about that. Your son and your student." Sid leaned back in his chair with a cruel laugh. "Talk about a real role model. Mmm-mmm-mmm. Daddy of the Year."

Johnny's fists clenched so tight his knuckles popped. If Stella were here, she'd calm him down. She always did.

Sid grinned wider. "Oh, hey. Easy there, Rocko. You sound like you're working up to beg for another handout." He wagged a finger. "And I'd hate for anything to jeopardize another payday."

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

"I didn't say that either."

"You can kick me around all you want, Sid. I'll take it." Johnny's voice was steady now, deadly calm. "But August doesn't deserve what happened to him. I need to make it right."

"Yeah. With my money." Sid scoffed.

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

"But you got nothing to give because you're a loser—just like your father." Sid sneered, his words like poison. "Say what you want about me, Johnny Boy, but at least I stuck around."

"Being a bully isn't much better than leaving." Johnny stepped closer, staring him down. "I'm trying to do better. I'm gonna see Robby, I'm scraping together what I can to help August's family."

Sid tilted his head, that grin sharpening. "Funny. You ever tell Stella about the good ol' days? When you were a pathetic little nobody—eating lunch by yourself, getting your ass kicked in the hallways? Before Cobra Kai turned you into something? Oh, wait—who paid for those lessons?" He jabbed his thumb into his chest. "That's right. Me. You'd still be a social reject if it wasn't for my checkbook."

Johnny's jaw flexed, but Sid wasn't done. He leaned forward, voice dripping venom. "And speaking of Stella... Ranger's daughter, right? Nathan's kid. Pretty little thing. Shame about her mama." Sid clicked his tongue in mock pity. "Hell of a way to go—a goddamn rodeo accident. Horse spooked, threw her like a ragdoll. I hear Nathan about lost his mind after that—grieved himself half to death. Spent months hunting down whoever caused it. Never could let it go. You think Stella's any different? You think she's not broken under all that sweetness?"

Johnny's jaw tightened until his teeth ached. "Leave her out of this."

Sid smirked wider. "Don't get all noble on me, Johnny Boy. You've always had a weakness for the pretty ones. What is she? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine? Old enough to know better, young enough to play the game." He chuckled low, full of venom. "Bet she came running when big, bad Johnny showed up, didn't she? Wrapped those legs around you and thanked her lucky stars. How many times? Once? Twice? Or you still trying to close the deal? Women like that always want a bad boy to fix 'em."

Johnny moved so fast the chair legs screeched against the hardwood as Sid flinched back. Johnny gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white. His voice was a growl, low and lethal. "Say one more word about her, old man. One more."

Sid smirked, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Jesus. You're in love with her. Ain't that precious? Pope John Lawrence the First—healer of children, savior of sad little damsels! Bravo. Bravo." He gave a slow, mocking clap.

Johnny's chest burned like fire, every muscle coiled to break Sid's neck in half. His voice came out tight and shaking. "You gonna help me or not? 'Cause I'd hate for that little incident with your secretary to get out. You know, start one of those... hash brown Me Too things."

Sid's smirk didn't falter. "I didn't get where I am by giving a damn about my reputation. Now get the hell out of here."

Johnny's lip curled. "You're a cold old man."

"And don't you forget it, buster," Sid spat as Johnny turned to leave.

On his way out, Johnny grabbed a silver vase from the foyer and walked right out the front door without looking back.