══════ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══════

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐍 peeked through the curtains of Ava's childhood bedroom, streaking the walls in soft golden light. Stella rose from the bed, slipping into her robe before wandering to the record player. She sifted through her mother's old vinyl, her fingers pausing on a Marie Osmond sleeve. Sliding the record free, she placed it on the turntable, and soon Meet Me in Montana filled the room.

Crossing to the closet, she ran her hand along the row of Ava's neatly kept teenage clothes, still hanging as if time had stood still. She chose a mint green dress, holding it against herself just as a gentle knock came at the door.

"Come in," Stella called softly.

"Morning, sweetheart," Abilene said, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. "How did you sleep?"

"Fine. Thanks." Stella smiled faintly as she slipped into her mother's mint green dress.

"You know, I keep telling myself I need to change the color in here, take down those old David Cassidy posters," Abilene said wistfully. "But this was your mama's sacred place."

"She'd be happy you left it the way it was," Stella said, slipping a white headband into her hair.

"What are you and August planning to do today?" Abilene asked.

"Going back to the ranch," Stella said, reaching into her toiletry bag and spritzing perfume onto her pulse points. "It's going to help us find some peace."

"You want us to come with you?" Abilene offered gently.

"Thanks, Grams, but this is something we need to do on our own." Stella gave her a reassuring smile.

"Hey, sis—you ready to go?" August asked, leaning in from the hallway.

"Yeah, let me grab my purse and keys, and I'll meet you downstairs." Stella said. August nodded and disappeared toward the stairs.

Stella exhaled slowly, turning back to her grandmother. "Grams, I know you and Aunt Kellie have your issues with my dad... but you need to work them out. Whether y'all like it or not, my mom loved him. And he loved her."

"We don't have an issue with your father, Stella. We just would have chosen someone better for her," Abilene said firmly.

Stella rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but that wasn't up to y'all, now was it?"

"Where's this coming from, Stella Blue?" Abilene asked, her voice heavy.

"After she died, you wanted nothing to do with us until you found out we were coming back to Texas. Grandma Janette was the only one there for us. After Mom died, everything turned to shit!" Stella's voice cracked as the tears came.

"You think you're the only one who lost someone?" Abilene's own voice broke, her eyes glistening. "I lost my daughter—not only when she died, but when she married your father. He wasn't right for her. He lived a life that could've gotten him killed."

"So did the bull rider she dated before Dad! Cody, right? Last I checked, my dad is still alive and well. You were just mad Mom didn't marry the man you picked. True, he didn't have much, but he treated her right. He loved her. And he never once treated her like shit." Stella wiped her tears, her voice rising with frustration.

Abilene's composure faltered. "You're right. I've made mistakes—terrible ones. After your granddad died, your mama and Aunt Kellie were all I had. I was scared of losing them too. And in trying to hold on, I pushed them away. Kellie came back with Clay... but your mama never did. I blamed your father for that. I shouldn't have. It was my own doing. I'm sorry, Stella. Can you ever forgive me?"

Stella's tears softened, her chest aching. "My mother stood for family above everything. And I do too." She wiped her cheeks and stepped forward, embracing her grandmother tightly. "Of course I forgive you, Grandma."

Abilene held her close, crying quietly. "I'm so sorry I failed you and your brother."

"I know, Grams," Stella said softly. Then, pulling back with a small smile, she added, "You can make it up to us by making your famous peach cobbler."

"Whatever you want, honey." Abilene smiled through her tears as they walked downstairs together.

"Everything good?" August asked, locking his phone after replying to a text from Sam.

"Everything's fine, hon." Stella smiled. "You ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," August said.

Clay was waiting near the door, arms crossed, a steady presence. He looked at them with that quiet, watchful devotion. "Hey, you two be careful. You want me to come with you?" His voice was low, serious—the kind that carried both an offer and a warning.

"No, Uncle Clay," Stella said gently, touched by the protective edge in his tone.

"We'll be alright," August added.

Clay gave a slow nod, his eyes steady on them both. "Then bring yourselves back in one piece. Don't make me come track you down."

"We will," Stella promised, hugging Abilene once more. "Bye, Grams."

"Be safe," Abilene called as they stepped out into the early Texas sun.

   ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

George Strait's Where the Sidewalk Ends blared through the speakers as Johnny and Robby pushed through the doors of the bar. The place smelled of beer and leather, with pool balls cracking against each other and men laughing as they leaned over green felt tables. Women lingered nearby, sipping longnecks and smiling at the action.

"Howdy, men," the bartender called, polishing a glass. "Welcome to Rowdy's. Can get ya a drink on special for ten."

"We're looking for a woman," Johnny said flatly.

"Aren't we all?" the bartender smirked, setting the glass aside.

"Abilene Tate," Johnny pressed. "You know her? I know her daughter was a barrel racer in these parts."

The bartender's easy grin soured. "Listen, city slickers, you don't belong in these parts. So either order a drink, or get the hell out of my bar."

"Look, there's no need to be rude—" Robby started.

"The kid's right, Russell," a cowboy interrupted as he stepped up beside them. His boots thudded against the floor, his hat tilted low. "That's not very neighborly of us. Give 'em two beers on me." He slid a bill across the counter, then turned to Johnny and Robby with an outstretched hand. "Joe Frost. Abilene's my cousin. I can actually take you there."

"That would be great," Johnny said, shaking his hand. "We're actually looking for Stella and August. It's our understanding they went back to her ranch?"

"Yes," Joe nodded. "I live on the Walker's old ranch. Kind of a homestead place now, especially after they moved to California. Nathan's my best friend. Haven't seen that old Ranger since he moved to the big city and forgot all about us."

Russell slid two cold beers their way.

"By the way, who's that playing over the speakers?" Robby asked, nodding toward the jukebox.

Joe raised a brow. "I'm guessing you boys have never heard of George Strait or George Jones?"

Johnny and Robby shook their heads.

Joe grinned, looking over at the bartender. "Hey, Russell—don't rock that ol' jukebox. Play some George Jones. Show these city folk what they've been missing."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Stella pulled into the driveway of their childhood home and froze, her hands tight on the steering wheel. The house stood there, unchanged, as if time itself had refused to touch it. The paint had faded a little, but the curtains still hung in the windows, and the front steps still bore the smudged handprints they'd pressed into wet cement years ago.

Joe had kept it exactly the same.

Putting the truck in park, Stella and August shared a quiet, shaky breath before stepping out. Their boots crunched against the gravel, but when they reached the porch, their eyes fell instantly to those handprints—tiny reminders of who they used to be.

Walking inside was like being pulled under by a wave of memory. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood and vanilla, their mother's scent, still clinging to the walls.

"Nothing's changed," August whispered, his voice breaking as his eyes welled.

"Yeah," Stella said, a watery smile trembling on her lips.

Step right up, come on in
If you'd like to take the grand tour of a lonely house, that once was home sweet home.

Upstairs, August peeled away toward his old bedroom. Stella hesitated at her doorway before pushing it open. The sight stopped her cold. The bed had been shifted from the wall by the door to sit by the window, but everything else—the posters, the lace curtains, the little lamp—was exactly as she left it.

I have nothing here to sell you
Just some things that I will tell you
Some things I know will chill you to the bone

Drawn to the closet, Stella tugged the door open. Inside, on the floor, was a box. Kneeling, she lifted the lid and stared. Barbie dolls. Her whole childhood in one cardboard trunk. On top lay Clara, from Barbie in the Nutcracker.

Her fingers brushed the doll, and the years melted away—

Flashback
— October 2001; Austin, TX

Stella sat cross-legged on the floor, Barbies scattered around her, Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road spinning on her little CD player. The bedroom door opened, and there stood Ava—her smile tired but radiant, still dusted with the glow of Cheyenne's rodeo lights. In her hand: a pink gift bag.

"Hi, baby blue," Ava said warmly.

"Mom!" Stella squealed, dropping her doll to run into her arms. Ava scooped her up, laughing, holding her close like she never wanted to let go.

"Hello, my precious," Ava whispered against her hair, sitting with Stella on the bed. "I heard from Grandma Janette you ran your barrels perfectly."

"Yeah! I wanna be just like you," Stella beamed, hugging her tighter. "Who wouldn't want to be like you, Mama?"

"Oh, thank you, my darling angel," Ava whispered, her eyes glistening. She handed her the pink bag. "Well, I got something for you."

Nestled in her mother's lap, Stella tore open the tissue paper and gasped. Barbie in the Nutcracker. Clara, in her sparkling dress.

"Mom, this is the one I wanted! Thank you so much!" she cried, wrapping her little arms around Ava's neck.

"You're welcome, sweetheart. I love you, my darling."

"I love you more, Mama."

End of Flashback

But now she's gone forever
And this old house will never be the same, with out the love that we once knew

A hand touched Stella's shoulder, grounding her back in the present. She turned to find August, sitting beside her with a few keepsakes of his own. His eyes flicked to the doll in her lap.

"I don't think I ever saw you play with that one," he said softly.

"No. I couldn't," Stella whispered, her voice trembling. "Mom bought it for me in Cheyenne. That was her last rodeo... while she was pregnant with you."

August nodded, his throat tight. "You about ready to go?"

"Yeah," she said, clutching the trunk of Barbies. "But I have to see something first."

Together they walked down the hall. Stella pushed open the door to Ava and Nathan's old room. Dust motes floated in the sunlight, dancing over untouched furniture. On Nathan's nightstand, a framed photo of Ava smiled back at them—her youth frozen, her presence haunting.

See her picture on the table
Don't it look like she'd be able just to touch me
And say good morning dear
There's her rings, all her things,
And her clothes are in the closet
Like she left them when she tore my world apart

Her rings were still there, her clothes still hung in the closet. It looked as though she'd just stepped out, ready to come back at any moment.

But she never would.

Stella's breath hitched. She shut the door quickly, as though leaving it open would shatter her completely.

They crossed the hall to the spare room—the nursery where they both once slept, cradled in the same space Ava had painted with love. The silence inside was crushing.

"C'mon, sis," August murmured, slipping his arm around her shoulders. "Let's go."

Stella leaned into him, clutching Clara to her chest, and together they walked away from the home that was still theirs—but without Ava, would never feel whole again.

   ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Back at Abilene's ranch, Clay was putting tools away after repairing a hole in the barbed-wire fence when Stella's truck pulled up. Dust swirled in the golden light as she and August climbed out. Clay stepped out of the barn, wiping his hands on a rag, his sharp eyes softening when he saw them.

"Hey. How did it go?" Clay asked, his deep voice steady.

"Fine. I got some of my old Barbie dolls, and other things." Stella smiled faintly.

"And I got some other memorabilia I kept over the years," August added.

"Did going back make y'all feel better?" Clay asked, his gaze steady, searching their faces.

"A little bit," Stella admitted.

Clay set his jaw, nodding once. "Honey, y'all don't have to let her go right away. It's only been a year. Besides, there's no timeline on grief." His voice softened, carrying the weight of his own scars. "I have an idea."

"What is it?" August asked.

"Go put your things away, and meet me at the stables in five," Clay said, already turning toward the corral.

After setting their childhood treasures inside, Stella and August headed to the stables. Clay was waiting, saddling horses with the kind of practiced ease that came from a lifetime of ranch work. Stella climbed onto Strawberry Wine, her favorite mare, while August swung up on his old gelding, Drifter.

"You know," Clay began as their horses carried them across the pasture, "after my father died, your aunt Kellie used to take me horseback riding. Helped me find some kind of inner peace."

Stella's eyes shimmered as she asked, "How do you do that? Let go of someone?"

Clay slowed his horse, looking at both of them. "When someone we love passes on, our love doesn't die with them. That stays right here." He pressed a calloused hand against his chest. "But we do have to say goodbye to the life we shared with them—for a chance at happiness. Your mom's at peace, you guys." His voice caught, low and rough. "She'd want y'all to be happy. Y'all are happy, right?"

Stella and August exchanged a glance, then nodded silently.

"Go on with a new life," Clay said, his tone firm but gentle. "It's all right. I promise."

"Thank you, Uncle Clay," Stella said softly, a smile tugging through her tears.

Clay nodded, tipping his hat in quiet acknowledgment. "I'm gonna head back to the house. Y'all wanna stay out here awhile?"

They both nodded.

"All right then," Clay said, giving them one last look—the kind that said he'd fight the whole damn world for them if he had to—before riding back toward the barn.

When he was gone, Stella and August let their horses wander across the wide pasture. The land stretched endlessly before them, painted in gold and green by the Texas sun.

"This is just like old times," August said quietly.

"Yeah," Stella breathed, her smile breaking through tears as they reached a hill overlooking a sweep of prairie. "This is where we can say goodbye, if you want to."

"I'm ready if you are," August said, reaching for her hand.

Stella took it, holding it tightly, and lifted her gaze to the sky. "Mom, you will always be a big part of our lives. On the parenting scale of one to ten, you were a twelve. But we're finally ready to find our peace, knowing you're at peace."

With a watery smile, August added, "You were the most beautiful woman in any room—and I'm not just saying that because you were our mom. I'm saying it 'cause it's true."

Tears streamed down Stella's face as she whispered, "I promise you this, Mama—we'll keep your memory alive. I love you more than any daughter has ever loved her mother."

"I love you too, Mom," August said, his voice breaking. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Mama," Stella echoed, her words trembling on the wind, carried out over the prairie as the sun sank low.

   ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

As Abilene pulled the peach cobbler from the oven, the sweet aroma filled the kitchen. Kellie laid out plates and silverware, while Clay washed his hands at the sink. Drying them on a dish towel, he glanced out the window and spotted an old '93 Dodge Caravan rattling down the gravel drive.

His eyes narrowed. "You expecting company?" he asked, voice low and steady, carrying that protective edge.

"No," Abilene replied, brow furrowing as she walked to the door. She opened it just as Johnny and Robby reached the porch.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Abilene asked, polite but cautious.

"Hi, we're looking for Stella and August Walker. I'm Johnny Lawrence, and this is my son, Robby," Johnny said.

Abilene's expression softened. "Oh, August did mention a Sensei Lawrence. If that's you, then please, come inside."

"Thank you," Robby said, offering a kind smile. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you," Abilene replied warmly. She gestured toward the couple at the table. "Johnny, Robby—this is my daughter Kellie, and her husband, Clay."

Clay rose slowly, his presence filling the room before he even spoke. His sharp gaze moved over Johnny, measuring him the way a man sizes up another to see what he's made of. Finally, he extended a firm hand.

"Hi. It's a pleasure meeting you both," Clay said, his grip unflinching.

"Hello Johnny and Robby, nice meeting you. Welcome to Austin," Kellie added brightly.

"Well, Stella and August went out riding. They should be back soon," Abilene said as she set the cobbler on the table. "But until then, I made a peach cobbler. Y'all want some?"

"That would be great," Johnny said.

"Thank you," Robby added with a smile.

Clay leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, still studying Johnny. For a long beat, the room was quiet except for the ticking of the old clock on the wall. Then, Clay broke the silence, his voice low but even.

"You came a long way for her," Clay said, his eyes never leaving Johnny's.

Johnny met his stare without flinching. "Yeah. She's... she's everything to me. I'd do it all again, no matter how far."

Something shifted in Clay's expression—respect. The kind of respect a man doesn't give easily. He gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth tugging upward just slightly.

"Good," Clay said simply, his tone carrying the weight of approval. "'Cause around here, we protect our own. Looks like you already figured that part out."

Johnny gave a faint smirk, almost relieved. "Yeah. I did."

In that instant, they understood each other—two men from different worlds, cut from the same cloth. Both fighters. Both stubborn. Both fiercely loyal to the people they loved.

Clay pushed off the counter and motioned toward the table. "All right then. Let's eat before it gets cold."

Meanwhile, Stella and August hung their saddles and reins on the stable wall, every motion heavy with release. Saying goodbye to their mother had nearly broken them, but they knew they had to.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Stella asked softly, brushing her horse.

"Yeah," August said after a beat, hand running down Drifter's mane. "I think I'm gonna be just fine." He hesitated. "Is it bad that I don't want to go back just yet?"

"No," Stella reassured gently. "It's not bad at all. I know Cobra Kai's probably taken over the Valley, but I'm sure Mr. LaRusso will figure it out. He always does."

"Oh yeah—Sam said Chozen, some karate guy Mr. LaRusso knew back in the '80s, is helping him take Cobra Kai down." August said as they walked out of the stables.

Before Stella could reply, the slam of a truck door turned her head. She froze, her breath catching. "Daddy?"

Nathan was already moving toward them, boots pounding against the gravel. "Kids," he called, voice breaking with relief. He ran the rest of the way, and they met him halfway, colliding into his arms. "Thank God y'all are all right."

Behind him, Janette carefully climbed down from the passenger side of the truck, her eyes misting at the sight of the reunion.

Nathan's arms wrapped tight around his children, pulling them into the kind of embrace that said nothing could hurt them as long as he was there. But the moment Stella felt her father's strength surround her, everything she'd been holding back cracked wide open. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed against him with a broken, guttural cry. The sound ripped through the quiet Texas air, raw and primal. August dropped with her, arms around his sister, both of them sobbing into their father's chest.

Nathan sank with them, pulling them in close, rocking them gently. "It's gonna be all right, kids. It's gonna be all right. Daddy's here."

On the porch, Abilene, Kellie, and Clay watched, grief heavy in their throats. Robby stood beside Johnny, his face etched with empathy. But Johnny—Johnny looked gutted. Every sob that wracked Stella's body tore through him.

Unable to stay back, Johnny moved. He walked slowly, deliberately, until he was beside them. Kneeling, he laid a steady hand against Stella's trembling back.

Nathan looked up at him, meeting Johnny's gaze head-on—protective, cautious, weighing him. For a long beat, silence hung heavy. Then Nathan saw it: the fire, the devotion. This wasn't some passing thing. This man loved his daughter like breath itself.

With a quiet nod, Nathan eased Stella into Johnny's arms.

Johnny caught her instantly, holding her against him like he'd never let her fall. His voice, rough around the edges but tender in a way only she ever saw, broke low against her hair. "It's all right, baby. It's all right. I've got you."

Stella clung to him, sobs muffled against his chest, and in that moment, she knew—Johnny wasn't just the man she loved. He was her other half. The one who would carry her through the fire.

Her sobs came harder, but she clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping her from drowning. Johnny just held on tighter, his rough, calloused hands trembling ever so slightly as he anchored her to him.

A few steps away, Nathan rose slowly, his jaw tight, his eyes wet. He watched his daughter collapse into Johnny—the man he hadn't trusted, the man with a past full of mistakes. And yet... in this moment, Nathan saw the truth. Johnny wasn't letting go. Not now, not ever.

Clay stood with his arms folded, hat tipped low, silent but observant. His gaze flicked from Stella, broken in Johnny's arms, to Johnny himself. Clay could smell bullshit from a mile away. But this wasn't that. Johnny wasn't trying to look like a hero. He just was one—for Stella.

Nathan exhaled slowly, wiping a hand over his mouth before glancing at Clay. "Man loves her," Nathan said quietly, voice rough.

Clay nodded once, firm, without hesitation. "Yeah. That's the kind of love that don't break."

The two men shared a look—an understanding born of protectors. They didn't have to like Johnny, not completely. But they saw it clear: Stella was safe in his arms.

Nathan's eyes softened, just barely. He'd always been her protector, but Johnny... Johnny was her other half. And no amount of doubt could take that away.

Step right up, come on in