I never thought I'd be back in Locus, getting ready for another funeral. It felt like life had a way of bringing me back to places I thought I'd left behind, especially places that carried so much pain. As I stood in front of the mirror, my reflection stared back at me—a version of myself I barely recognized. My pitch-black hair hung straight and lifeless down my back, a sharp contrast to the simple black dress that hugged my frame. I looked... tired. Emotionally drained. The dark circles under my eyes told a story I didn't have the strength to say out loud.

It had been four days since Everest's grandmother passed. Four days of silence. Four days of wondering if he would ever come back to me—or if I had truly lost him for good. Since that night in Ghost's office, when I'd seen him with Bree, we hadn't spoken or crossed paths. Not a single call. Not even a text. It was like I no longer existed in his world, and the weight of that realization crushed me more than I wanted to admit.

"Come on, Avery," I whispered to myself, straightening my shoulders and pushing down the ache in my chest. Today wasn't about me. It was about honoring a woman who had been nothing but kind to me, someone who had treated me like family when I felt like an outsider. I owed her that much.

I slipped on a pair of black flats and grabbed my purse, taking a deep breath before making my way downstairs. The house was quiet, too quiet, and that only made the heaviness in the air feel thicker.

As I stepped into the kitchen, I found Brooke standing by the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She was dressed in a black blouse and slacks, her expression as somber as I felt.

"Hey," she said softly, glancing up as I walked in.

"Hey," I murmured back, offering a faint smile. I leaned against the counter, feeling the cool surface press against my palm as I tried to ground myself.

"You ready?" Brooke asked, her voice gentle but knowing.

"Ready as I'll ever be." I sighed, running my fingers through my hair as if that would somehow smooth out the chaos in my mind.

Brooke set her coffee down and gave me a look—one of those looks that said she knew exactly what I was feeling. "It's gonna be okay," she said softly, but even she didn't sound too sure.

"Is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

She didn't answer right away, and I appreciated that. There was no need for empty words or false promises. Brooke knew as well as I did that things weren't okay. Not with Everest. Not with everything that had happened. But she also knew I needed to hear it, even if it was just for a moment.

"Come on," she finally said, reaching for her keys. "Let's go."

I nodded, grabbing my jacket and following her toward the door. As we stepped outside, the cool breeze hit my skin, making me shiver slightly.

The day was... beautiful. It was the kind of day that didn't seem fair for a funeral. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the grass, and there was just the right amount of breeze to keep it from feeling too hot. It was as if the universe was giving Everest's grandmother one final, perfect day to be remembered.

Brooke and I stood toward the back, where the crowd was thinner, giving me space to breathe. I didn't know most of the people here, but I could tell they all loved her—Mrs. Johnson. She had been a pillar of strength and warmth in their lives, and now that warmth was gone.

My eyes kept finding him, though I tried not to look. Everest stood at the front, next to Austin and their mother. His expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched and his posture rigid. He was holding it all in, keeping himself together like he always did. Austin, on the other hand, looked like he was barely holding on. His head was slightly bowed, his hands clasped in front of him, and I could see the tension in his shoulders as he tried not to break.

And then there was their mother. Mary Ann stood beside them, her face set in a practiced mask of grief, but I didn't trust it. She looked too put together, too composed. I wondered if she even felt half the pain her sons did—or if she was just here to play her part.

I tried to focus on the words being spoken, the gentle tone of the pastor as he talked about Mrs. Johnson's life. He spoke about her kindness, her strength, and the love she had for her family. It was all true. She had been a light in this world, and now that light was gone.

But no matter how hard I tried, my eyes kept drifting back to Everest.

And he didn't look at me. Not once.

I told myself I didn't care. That it didn't matter. But deep down, it did.

"Are you okay?" Brooke whispered beside me, her hand brushing against mine gently.

I nodded, but it was a lie. "Yeah," I murmured softly.

"Liar," she said, giving me a knowing look. But she didn't push. She never did.

As the service went on, I felt the weight of everything settling on my chest. The silence between Everest and me was louder than any words could be. And it hurt—more than I was willing to admit.

After the service, everyone gathered at the Johnson house. It was quieter now, the air heavy with grief and whispered conversations. The living room was packed with people offering condolences, sharing stories, and trying to bring some sense of comfort to the family.

Brooke and I stood near the kitchen, keeping to ourselves. I wasn't ready to be around too many people, not when my mind was still caught up on Everest. I hadn't spoken to him. I hadn't even gotten close enough to try.

But I could feel him.

Every time he moved, every glance he stole, I felt it. But he never looked directly at me. It was like we were existing in two different worlds—so close, yet so far apart.

••••••••••••••••••••••

EVERESTS POV:

Chapter Title: Shattered Lines

I stood at the kitchen table, my hands planted firmly on the worn wood, my jaw clenched so tight I thought it might snap. The low hum of voices from the living room buzzed in the background, but I wasn't paying attention to any of it. My eyes were fixed on the old man sitting across from me—my grandfather.

He looked... tired. More tired than I'd ever seen him. His face was lined with grief, his eyes distant, almost like he wasn't even really here. His hands trembled slightly as he ran his fingers along the rim of his coffee cup, the same damn cup he'd been drinking out of for as long as I could remember.

Austin stood to my right, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was quiet, but I could feel the tension radiating off of him, matching my own.

"Pop," I murmured softly, trying to pull him back from whatever thoughts had consumed him.

His eyes flickered up to meet mine, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of the man I'd always known—the strong, steady presence that had been a constant in my life when everything else was falling apart.

"I'm alright, boy," he said, but his voice was hoarse, and I didn't believe him for a second.

I wanted to say something else, to tell him that he didn't have to pretend with us, but before I could, a voice cut through the quiet.

"This might be a bad time to bring this up, Daddy..."

I felt my entire body go rigid at the sound of her voice.

Mary Ann.

I didn't look at her. I couldn't. If I did, I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep my mouth shut.

"Mary Ann," Pop muttered, his tone heavy with warning.

But she didn't stop. Of course, she didn't.

"I just..." She paused, probably for dramatic effect, but all it did was make my blood boil. "I've been thinking... maybe it's time to consider some... other options."

"Other options?" Austin's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

She shifted in her seat, her perfectly manicured nails tapping lightly against the table. "Daddy, you can't stay here by yourself," she said, her tone laced with fake concern. "Not after..."

Her voice trailed off, but we all knew what she meant. Not after Grandma.

"You're not suggesting what I think you are," I muttered, finally looking up at her.

She had the nerve to meet my gaze head-on, her expression calm, almost practiced. "It's not safe, Everest. Daddy needs to be somewhere where people can take care of him."

My fists clenched at my sides. "He doesn't need to go to a damn retirement home."

"Everest," she said with a sigh, like I was the one being unreasonable. "Be realistic. This place is too much for him now. And the farm..." She paused, glancing at my grandfather before continuing. "It's time to think about selling it."

The room went dead silent.

Austin pushed off the counter, his body stiff with anger. "You want to sell the farmhouse?" His voice was low, but I could hear the barely restrained fury beneath it.

"Boys..." Pop murmured softly, his voice filled with exhaustion.

"Are you serious right now?" I snapped, finally turning to face her fully. "This house? This land? It's been in our family for generations. And now you just want to sell it off like it means nothing?"

"Everest, it's not that simple—"

"The hell it's not," I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intended. But I didn't care. "You left. You don't get to come back here after years and start making decisions about what happens to this place."

Her eyes narrowed, but I didn't give a damn.

"Everest, I'm just thinking about what's best for your grandfather," she said, but there was no warmth in her words.

"Bullshit," Austin muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Pop hadn't said a word, but I could see it in his eyes. He didn't want this. This was his home. Our home.

"I'm not gonna sit here and listen to this," I muttered, pushing away from the table.

"Everest," Pop's voice was soft, but I couldn't stay.

"I need some air," I mumbled, my jaw tight as I headed for the back door.

I didn't stop. I couldn't. The moment I stepped outside, the cool air hit me, but it didn't do a damn thing to calm the storm raging inside of me.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth on the porch, trying to breathe, trying to push down the anger clawing at my chest.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

AVERYS POV:

Chapter Title: Beneath the Weight of It All

I watched from the corner of my eye as Everest pushed back from the table, his jaw clenched so tight I was surprised it hadn't shattered. His hands were balled into fists, and I could practically feel the anger radiating off of him.

"I need some air," he muttered under his breath before storming out the back door.

My heart squeezed painfully as I saw the look on his face—the one that told me he was barely holding it together. I'd seen it before, but this... this was different. He was unraveling, and I couldn't just sit here and do nothing.

I glanced over at Brooke, who was sitting at the table, her lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes followed Everest out the door. She knew as well as I did that he was about to fall apart.

"I'm gonna go check on him," I murmured softly, giving her a small, worried look.

Brooke met my gaze and nodded, her expression just as concerned as mine. "Okay," she said quietly. "But... be careful."

"I will," I promised before slipping out the back door.

The cool air hit me immediately, but it didn't do much to soothe the ache in my chest. I scanned the yard, and it didn't take me long to spot him.

Everest.

He was walking toward the large oak tree in the distance, the one where they had buried his grandmother. His shoulders were slumped, his head bowed, and I could tell... he was barely holding on.

My feet moved before I could think, carrying me toward him, my steps light but purposeful. I didn't call out to him. I knew he needed space, but I also knew he needed someone with him right now. And that someone... was me.

As I got closer, I saw him stop near the base of the tree. His hands were on his hips, his head tilted down, staring at the freshly turned soil where his grandmother now rested.

I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to intrude, but then I saw his shoulders start to shake.

"Everest..." I murmured softly, barely above a whisper.

He didn't turn around.

I stepped closer, my heart pounding in my chest as I reached out, gently placing my hand on his arm. "Everest..."

That was all it took.

A shuddering breath tore through him, and suddenly, it was like the dam he'd been holding back broke wide open.

"I can't..." His voice cracked as he turned toward me, and my heart shattered at the sight of him.

His eyes were red, glassy, filled with so much pain that it physically hurt to look at him. His face was twisted with anguish, and I could see how hard he was trying to hold it all in—but he couldn't anymore.

"I can't do this, Avery..." His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was laced with so much raw emotion that it hit me like a punch to the gut.

"Hey..." I murmured softly, stepping closer until I was right in front of him. "It's okay..."

"I'm not okay..." His voice broke, and before I could say anything else, he fell apart right in front of me.

His body shook as he tried to catch his breath, and I didn't hesitate. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into me, holding him as tightly as I could.

"I've got you," I whispered softly, running my hand gently up and down his back as he buried his face into the crook of my neck.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. He just held onto me like his life depended on it, his body trembling as the weight of everything he'd been carrying finally came crashing down.

"I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you," he whispered hoarsely, his voice muffled against my skin.

My heart clenched painfully, and I felt my throat tighten.

"I'm so scared, Avery..." His voice was barely above a whisper now, and I felt his arms tighten around me. "I'm so scared you're going to leave... that I'm going to lose you."

I closed my eyes, pressing my cheek gently against his hair as I held him tighter.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered softly, my voice thick with emotion.

"I don't deserve you..." His voice cracked again, and I could feel his tears soaking into the fabric of my dress. "I'm so sorry... for everything... for the way I treated you... for pushing you away..."

"Everest..." I pulled back just enough to look at him, my hands gently cupping his face. His eyes were filled with so much pain, so much guilt, and it broke me all over again.

"You don't have to apologize," I whispered softly, my thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down his cheek. "I'm here... I'm right here."

His eyes searched mine, as if he was trying to see if I was telling the truth—if I was really still here after everything.

"I don't deserve you," he murmured again, his voice barely audible.

"Yes, you do," I whispered firmly, my hands never leaving his face. "You're allowed to fall apart, Everest. You don't have to carry this alone."

A shaky breath left his lips, and for a moment, he just stared at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and vulnerability.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice raw and broken.

My heart clenched so tightly that it hurt, and I felt my own tears threatening to fall.

"I love you too," I whispered back, my voice barely above a breath.

And in that moment, as I held him close, I knew that no matter how broken he felt... I wasn't going anywhere.

I would be there for him.

Through all of it.

For as long as he needed me.

After a while, Everest's breathing steadied, and the tension slowly started to lift from his body. His tears had dried, and though there was still a shadow of vulnerability in his eyes, the hardness I had become so familiar with returned. He pulled himself together, standing taller, though the weight of everything was still there—just more carefully concealed now.

We stood in silence for a few moments, neither of us saying a word, but the comfort of each other's presence was enough. Eventually, Everest gave a small nod, as if to signal that he was ready.

"Let's go back," he murmured softly, his voice quieter now, as though the storm inside him had passed, but the remnants of it lingered. I nodded, squeezing his hand reassuringly before we made our way back into the house.

The door creaked softly as we entered, and I immediately noticed the change in the atmosphere. It was quieter now, less chaotic. The crowd had dwindled, leaving only the most immediate family. Everest's grandfather was sitting in his worn armchair, his face sagging with exhaustion, his eyes heavy with the weight of grief. His mother sat on the couch, her posture rigid, her face unreadable, but the tension in the room was palpable. Austin was still on the couch, his face drawn and pale, his eyes distant as he stared at nothing, lost in his own thoughts.

I gave Brooke a quick, subtle look, and she immediately caught it. We didn't need words between us; the look said it all. Everything had happened—the breakdown, the moment of rawness and honesty—and somehow, I knew that Everest would be okay. Or at least, he was going to try. That's all I could really ask of him.

Brooke gave Austin's back a comforting rub, her eyes filled with compassion as she continued to offer silent support. Austin, though, didn't acknowledge us. He was somewhere far away in his mind, lost in grief or confusion—maybe both.

"I won't let Mom force you to sell this place. I'll buy it," Everest said, his voice firm. I was a bit shocked by his words, not knowing what had happened before to make him storm out of the room earlier. Mr. Johnson, his grandfather, sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair, clearly weary.

"I'm not selling the farm, let alone letting you buy something. It's already yours," Mr. Johnson replied, his voice heavy with emotion. Everest's face was a mixture of confusion and surprise, and Austin, who had been quiet up until now, lifted his head to look at his grandfather.

"The second year Gram got sick, we made sure to put the house in both you and Austin's names," Mr. Johnson continued, his voice softening as he spoke. "I didn't know what was going to happen to me after I lost her. I wanted to make sure you two had something—something to hold on to."

He gazed at the picture of him and Mrs. Johnson that sat beside his chair, his eyes distant and sad, as if lost in memories of a time when things were different.

"But, Daddy—" MaryAnn began, trying to interject, but Mr. Johnson raised his hand, silencing her. She froze, but she didn't argue.

"Not now, MaryAnn," he said, his voice more forceful than I had ever heard it before. "This is not the time or place. We just buried your mother." The weight of his words silenced her instantly, and she stepped back, visibly upset but respecting his wishes.

The room grew heavy with silence as Mr. Johnson's words hung in the air. Everest was still processing everything, his face a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. I could see the shift in him, like the realization was sinking in that his grandfather had already secured their future—something Everest had been so desperate to protect.

Everest glanced at Austin, who had finally sat up, his expression pensive. They exchanged a look that spoke volumes—brothers navigating grief and responsibility, each trying to figure out where they stood in the aftermath of loss.

Everest glanced at Austin, who had finally sat up, his expression pensive. They exchanged a look that spoke volumes—brothers navigating grief and responsibility, each trying to figure out where they stood in the aftermath of loss.

The room was heavy with unspoken words, the weight of the past few days hanging over them all. Everest stood there for a moment longer, his eyes drifting between his grandfather and mother, before finally walking out of the room. Austin followed shortly after, leaving the rest of us in a lingering silence.