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𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 since August's surgery, and he was finally discharged. Thanks to Stella's job at the hospital, his physical therapy was covered under her insurance. On her day off, she decided to visit her little brother. Pulling the jeep into the parking lot, Stella slid her sunglasses onto her head, climbed out, and greeted him warmly.

"Hey baby bro." Stella smiled as she embraced her brother. "How are you feeling? How was therapy?"

"It was fine. I'm feeling alright, but I still can't feel anything," August admitted.

"Hon, it's not gonna happen overnight." Stella rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Give it some time."

Before he could reply, a magazine with a bikini-clad woman on the cover suddenly dropped into view in front of August's face. The Walker siblings exchanged puzzled looks before glancing up to see Johnny leaning over the railing with a fishing pole.

"Johnny, what the hell?" Stella chuckled.

"What's this?" August asked.

"This," Johnny smirked, "is a collection of the tastiest babes of 1988. You're not gonna get to see 'em unless you grab it."

"Ok." August reached for it, only for Johnny to reel the magazine back, just out of reach.

"You're gonna have to try harder than that," Johnny teased.

"You know I can just find these pictures on my phone, right?" August said.

"Yeah, well, it's not the same. Chicks are hotter on the page," Johnny countered.

Stella wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ugh, that's disgusting, Johnny."

"You won't know unless you get off your butt. Or," Johnny added, "you can just keep getting foot rubs from that pansy-ass therapist."

"Alright, look baby bro, don't get up too fast. Just try very carefully, okay?" Stella urged.

August nodded, then tried again. But each time he reached, Johnny lifted the magazine higher, taunting him.

"Weak! That all you got, Walker? I thought you were the All Valley Champ?" Johnny goaded.

Finally, August braced against the wheelchair arms and pushed himself up. His fingers brushed the edge of the magazine—then his balance gave out, and he toppled to the ground.

"August!" Stella rushed over, dropping to her knees to help.

"Oh shit." Johnny's smirk vanished. He dropped the fishing pole and bolted down the stairs.

Stella wrapped her arms around her brother and helped him back into the chair. "You okay, hon?"

"You all right?" Johnny asked, guilt softening his tone.

"Yeah," August said quietly.

"Hey, give it a minute and then we'll go again," Johnny encouraged. "I still got my Vanna White Playboy. That'll get you going."

"Don't you get it? You could dangle a new PlayStation in front of me, and I still wouldn't be able to stand up." August's voice cracked as he wheeled away, defeated. Stella's chest ached as she watched him go. Deep down, she feared what she didn't want to admit: that her brother might never walk again.

Later that afternoon, Stella and August sat with Johnny in the courtyard, where he was grilling hot dogs. The smoky scent hung in the air while 80s rock blasted from his stereo.

"You know why they call this a hibachi?" Johnny asked after lighting the grill.

"They don't. It's a kettle grill," August corrected.

"Hundred years ago in ancient China, there was this tiny village of dairy farmers, living fat off their milk and cheese. Then a drought hit, and they needed water from the river. But none of the Chinamen wanted to work."

"I'm not sure that's the appropriate term," Stella cut in.

"China people, whatever," Johnny brushed off. He leaned down toward August. "The point is, they were just laying around in hammocks waiting for rain. So a wise man gathered up a bunch of twigs, stuffed them under the villagers while they slept. Know why he did it?"

"Lit a fire under them?" Stella guessed.

"Exactly. That's where the expression comes from. Do you know what that wise man's name was?" Johnny asked, kneeling closer to August.

"Hibachi?" August replied dryly.

"Damn straight." Johnny grinned.

"Yeah genius, except hibachis are from Japan, not China. And, historically, no hammocks or dairy farmers. You think I'd fall for that?" August shot back.

"No, but I knew you'd be too busy calling my bullshit to notice what I was really up to," Johnny said.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Stella asked, eyebrow raised.

"Lighting a fire under him." Johnny lifted the lighter fluid and flicked his lighter.

"What did you do?" August asked, looking down at his feet. His shoelace suddenly flared to life.

"Johnny, what the hell?!" Stella leapt up, but Johnny held a hand out to stop her.

"Are you insane?" August demanded.

"Depends who you ask. Come on, Walker! Shake a leg."

"I can't!" August shouted.

"You can if you want it bad enough."

"It's all I want!" August's voice cracked with desperation.

"Then focus! Tell your brain to tell your legs to get their asses moving!" Johnny barked.

August strained with everything he had, but nothing happened. The flame crept higher, catching his sock and spreading up his leg.

"Sensei, it's going up my leg!" August panicked.

Johnny quickly grabbed the extinguisher and doused the fire. "I really thought that would work," he muttered.

"Why didn't it?" August's frustration boiled over. "My foot was on fire, and I didn't feel a thing. Why is nothing working?!" His voice broke as he wheeled away. "It's fine. I should probably just clean up before Dad gets home."

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Johnny sat in his Reseda apartment with Stella beside him. She was curled up on the couch, flipping through her nursing books, while he sat at the computer, scrolling with little interest. He'd never say it out loud, but this was home to him.

"What are you smirking at?" she asked, turning the page without looking up.

"Just got another idea." Johnny stood and grabbed his keys.

"Is this another idea that's gonna put his life in complete jeopardy?" Stella teased.

"You're funny, princess. I honestly thought those tactics would work." He shrugged, then added, "No, there's a Dee Snider concert, and I think it'll be good for him."

"You don't mean the one and only badass Dee Snider?" Stella stood, excitement sparking in her eyes. "Holy shit. But we have to have tickets to get into a concert."

"Nah, you leave that to me." Johnny smirked, heading for the door with Stella close behind.

"Should I be worried?" she laughed as he locked up.

"Back in the 80s, my buddies and I used to sneak into rock concerts all the time. My buddy Dutch got hammered and ended up banging a chick in the corner." Johnny chuckled at the memory.

"Okay, your buddy Dutch sounds so awesome, yet for throwing Milk Duds at Ali, he sounds like a bit of an ass. Still, I feel like I need to meet him sometime." Stella teased.

"You have no idea how awesome he was," Johnny said, though his grin faded with the thought. "Just hate that he went down the wrong path."

"What exactly did he do?" Stella asked gently.

Johnny sighed. "Well, back in the mid-90s... after Bobby made a life for himself, Jimmy got married, Tommy grew up at least a little... Dutch and I were at the country club when he hot-wired a golf cart and drove it straight into the pool."

Sensing the melancholy in Johnny's voice, Stella changed the subject. "Well, we should probably get August."

"Yeah," Johnny muttered, shoving the memory aside.

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"And I thought this place looked scary from the outside. Where are we, sensei?" August asked as he craned his neck. Stella clutched Johnny's sleeve instinctively.

"Uh, Johnny?" she said nervously.

"It's a field trip." Johnny handed August a backpack. "Here, take this and follow my lead."

At the entrance, a security guard stepped in front of them. "Nice try. Come back when he's 21."

"Yeah, that's gonna be tough," Johnny said flatly. "He'll be dead by then. Should be dead already. Every day's a gift. He's got a bucket list, and getting past that door is number one." He gave August a quick nod. Right on cue, August started fake-coughing.

The guard's face softened. "All right, go ahead. Good luck, kid."

Inside, Stella's eyes widened as she caught sight of the stage. "That's Dee Snider—the most badass rocker ever."

"That's right," Johnny said proudly, watching August light up.

"How is this part of his physical therapy?" Stella asked.

"It's not." Johnny pulled a couple of beers from the backpack, cracking one open and handing it over. "Forget about that and have some fun."

Stella laughed and pulled out her phone, snapping a selfie of the three of them. She saved it, then posted it to her story.

"Can I get a copy of that?" Johnny asked.

"Don't worry, I'll tag you!" Stella smiled.

"Tag me? What the hell does that mean?" Johnny frowned.

"Check your Facebook," August said, sipping his beer.

"I don't have Facebook anymore. I threw my phone away."

"You know it's on your computer too, right?"

Johnny blinked, then muttered, "Oh. Yeah."

The set wound down as Dee Snider grabbed the mic. "All right, all right. So, I hear there's a Make-A-Wish kid in the house tonight."

"Yeah, right here! Right here!" Johnny shouted, pointing at August.

"There he is. Ladies, let's make that kid's wish come true." A cluster of girls giggled and waved at August.

"Now repeat after Dee!" Snider launched into I Wanna Rock. August cheered and joined in, Stella's eyes watering as she looked down at him. His foot was tapping.

Heart pounding, she tapped Johnny's shoulder. When he looked at her, she pointed to August's foot. Johnny froze, then looked back at Stella.

Johnny pointed it out to August, who looked down and gasped. The blonde grinned wide, pulled August into a hug, then tugged Stella close too, holding them both against him.

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"Well, you weren't lying. You certainly know your way around concerts." Stella laughed as she stood beside her truck

"It was better in the 80s," Johnny replied, but his grin softened as he looked at her. For him, tonight hadn't been about the music at all.

Stella playfully rolled her eyes and laughed. "Yeah, yeah. Heard that before. Anyway, I gotta get going. I have an early shift in the morning. But I'll talk to you soon okay?"

"Be careful, okay?" Johnny pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, longer than he should have. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be getting off late, but I'll definitely call you." She smiled up at him.

"All right, princess. Don't work too hard."

She winked, slid into her truck, and drove off. Johnny stood watching until her taillights disappeared, that familiar ache in his chest hitting him again.

Back inside, he cracked open a beer and sat at the computer. "Now what the hell is a tag?" he muttered, finding the photos Stella had posted—her smile lighting up the screen, his arm around her and August. For once, Johnny liked what he saw in his reflection there.

Then the notification appeared. A friend request. Curious, he clicked, expecting one of the kids. Instead, the name froze him. For a moment, memories of high school flickered—old heartbreak, what-ifs, the girl who once meant the world. But Johnny didn't feel the tug he expected. Not anymore.

Because now, there was Stella. The woman who'd walked into his life and changed everything. The woman who'd just driven off in her truck, carrying his whole damn heart with her.

The request stared back at him:

1 new friend request: Ali Mills Schwarber
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