Everest's POV

I pulled up to the house, the familiar creak of the tires on the gravel driveway setting my teeth on edge. It was still early, and the house was quiet—too quiet. The life that used to fill these walls, the laughter and chatter of Gram, was now gone. And in its place, a somber silence.

I stepped out of the truck, the weight of the day sinking deeper into my bones as I walked toward the front door. My Pap was in there, and as much as I hated the idea, I needed to talk to him. Needed to face this. Needed to see what came next.

When I walked inside, the house felt smaller, emptier somehow. The walls that once held so much life now seemed hollow. Pap was sitting in his chair, staring at the old photograph of him and Gram, his hand resting on the arm of the chair like he was waiting for her to walk through the door.

"Everest," he said without looking up, his voice hoarse. "Come in. I was expecting you."

I closed the door behind me and stood there for a moment, watching him. The stoic man who raised me, who had always been a constant in my life, now seemed fragile—his strength chipped away by years of loss. And I couldn't help but feel a little lost myself.

"You okay, Pap?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended. I wasn't sure what I was asking. I wasn't sure if anyone was okay.

He looked up at me, his eyes tired but sharp. "I've had better days, boy. But I'll survive." He motioned to the packed boxes in the corner of the room, some stacked high, others open with clothes and trinkets spilling out. "As you can see, I've been busy."

I followed his gaze, my stomach sinking a little. "You're really moving?"

He nodded slowly, leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped together tightly. "I don't need this place anymore, Everest. Not without her." His voice cracked, and I could hear the raw pain in his words. "This house, it's just a memory now. And I've got nothing left here. Not without her."

I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. I couldn't argue with him. I wouldn't even try.

I stayed quiet for a moment, trying to let his words sink in. It was clear Pap wasn't happy about leaving, but the idea of being somewhere else—a retirement community, no less—seemed like it hit him harder than I thought. I wasn't sure how to respond, but I could tell there was more to the story.

Pap broke the silence, his voice carrying that familiar weight of a man who's been through a lifetime of difficult decisions. "Your mother found me a good place," he said, his eyes steady but worn. "It's a retirement community, but it's not like most of those places. They have a farm there."

A farm. I hadn't expected that. The idea of Pap working the land again, something he loved more than anything, made the move seem less like an end and more like a beginning. Still, the reality of leaving this place, the house that had held so many memories, seemed to be too much for him to process.

"Farm?" I repeated, trying to wrap my head around it. "Like a real one?"

Pap gave a small, wry smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. They have some crops, animals to care for. It's not like the one here, but it's something. Keeps me busy. Keeps me working."

I could hear the hesitation in his voice, like he didn't want to leave but also knew it was time. "It's better than just sitting around, waiting for time to pass, don't you think?"

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the words. I could see the appeal. Pap had always been a man of purpose, always busy, always working. The thought of him being idle, especially after losing Gram, felt wrong. But was a retirement community really the right place for him? He'd spent his life in this house, on this land. Could a farm in some other place really replace what he had here?

"How's it gonna be?" I asked, trying to understand, trying to push through the discomfort in my chest. "I mean, are you sure about this?"

Pap looked at me, his eyes softening for just a moment, before he gave a reluctant shrug. "Your mother insists it's a good place. She says it'll give me something to do, keep me active. I won't be stuck in some room doing nothing."

I swallowed hard, trying to process it all. Part of me wanted to argue, to say this wasn't the way it should be, that he shouldn't leave here, not like this. But I knew, deep down, that this was his choice. And he was ready. Or at least, he had to be.

"Okay," I said, the word coming out quieter than I expected. "I just... I don't want you to feel like you're being forced into this."

Pap's face softened, and for a brief moment, I saw that familiar glimmer of the strong man I grew up with. "It's not forced, Everest. It's just time." He gave me a firm look, like he was trying to reassure me. "You'll see. It'll be good for me."

I nodded again, unsure of what to say. I wanted to make it easier for him, to tell him it would all be fine, but I knew it wasn't that simple. The house—the land—everything we knew, was changing. And I wasn't sure how to make peace with that.

Pap let out a long breath and reached over to pat me on the shoulder. "I'm gonna be okay, boy. I promise."

I stood there, feeling like I should say something more, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I just nodded, feeling the weight of the decision settle between us. Pap was leaving. Gram was gone. The world as I knew it was slipping away, piece by piece.

"Let's go see about getting the rest of this packed up," Pap said, his voice quiet, but with a renewed sense of purpose. He wasn't giving up. He was moving forward, and if I was being honest, part of me admired him for that.

•••••••••••••••••••••

AVERYS POV:

I walked into the club, the air heavy with silence. The lights were dim, casting long shadows across the empty space. The bar was still closed, and the chairs were stacked neatly on the tables, waiting for the night's crowd. It was almost eerie, the way everything was so still. My eyes scanned the room, and that's when I saw her—MaryAnn, standing near the far wall, holding two pieces of paper in her hand. She looked lost in thought, but as soon as she noticed me, she straightened up, her expression shifting into something a little softer.

I hesitated for a second, then walked over to her. She gave me a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Avery," she said quietly, her voice almost warm. "You're a good girl. I can tell you'll do right by Everest."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, so I just nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going. MaryAnn wasn't someone I'd spent a lot of time around, but there was something about her today—something vulnerable in the way she spoke.

"But don't fall into this life," she continued, glancing around the room as though she was trying to make sure no one else was listening. "I know there's a big world out there for you. Don't let this place keep you here." Her eyes met mine, and there was a flicker of something—regret, maybe.

"I've tried getting out of this town. I've tried starting a new life, MaryAnn, but it's not as great as I thought. If anything, it's worse than being back home," I tell her, and she just shakes her head.

"It's a shame how this town pulls people in. Only a few make it out and actually have a good life. I have a good life in California," she responds.

I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, Austin walks in. His eyes flick to the two of us before he freezes.

"Mom?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

MaryAnn looked caught off guard, her face shifting between surprise and something else—guilt, maybe? She hadn't planned on seeing him. I could tell that much. I watched as she fumbled for words, glancing between Austin and the two pieces of paper in her hands.

"Hey, hunny, how are you holding up?" she asks Austin, though it's clear from his face that he's still conflicted. He steps forward, and she goes to give him a hug. Meanwhile, Mary Ann stands awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. It's the first time I've seen her like this since she arrived.

"What are you doing?" Austin asks, his gaze fixed on the two letters in her hand, one addressed to him and the other to Everest. She lets out a nervous sigh.

"Oh, honey, after I help your grandfather move, I have to go back to California," she says, and the shift in Austin's demeanor is immediate. His posture stiffens, and the warmth that was briefly in his expression fades into something colder.

He doesn't say anything at first, his jaw tightening as he processes what she just said.

"You're just going to leave?" Austin's voice is barely above a whisper, but there's an edge to it, a quiet hurt that's hard to miss.

Mary Ann takes a step back, her face faltering as she tries to muster an explanation. "Austin, baby, why don't you take a seat?" she says, attempting to guide Austin toward the barstool, as if she's about to have a serious conversation with him.

"No, just tell me," he replies, standing his ground, refusing to sit down. She clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable.

"I cannot stay here, Austin. This town is like a disease, and I have a new life in California. It's... it's complicated." She stutters, trying to find the right words. I can tell she's not as confident as she's trying to appear.

Brooke would've been helpful right about now, but I knew she was at class. Austin, as much as I wanted to step in, needed to hear this from Mary Ann.

"How is it complicated?" Austin asks, his voice tight with frustration. "You said you wanted to do better. You said you wanted to do right by us."

Mary Ann looks down at the floor for a moment, then back up at Austin, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. She finally takes a deep breath and says, "I have a family in California, Austin. Two boys, Julian and Sammie. They're eight and six, and I'm trying to do better by them. I'm trying to be the mother to them that I couldn't be for you and Everest."

The words hang in the air, heavy and full of finality. Austin's face hardens as he absorbs what she's just told him. The pain in his eyes is unmistakable, and for a moment, I see the same boy who once clung to his mother's love, only now, he's letting go.

"You're just going to leave us, then?" Austin asks, his voice quiet but edged with anger and betrayal. Mary Ann doesn't respond, her eyes flicking to the floor again, as if avoiding the weight of her own actions.

Austin's face hardened, his jaw tight with frustration. "Don't call yourself our mother," he said, his voice cold. "I don't want you in my life. Stay out of it Mary Ann." He hisses.

You would've thought that Austin had stabbed her in the heart, calling her by her name after all these years of calling her "Mom." It was like she suddenly realized that she had been doing nothing but dragging herself into their lives and doing more harm than good.

I could see the hurt in Austin's eyes—the way his words sliced through the air. I wanted to say something, to comfort him, but I knew this was something only he could work through. His anger, his pain—it wasn't something I could fix for him, no matter how much I wished I could.

Before MaryAnn could respond, Everest walked into the room. His gaze locked onto his mother immediately. His stance was rigid, his arms crossed, and his presence commanded the space like it always did. The moment he saw Austin and MaryAnn standing there, the tension in the air thickened, and without a word, he stepped between them.

His arm wrapped protectively around me, pulling me close. "You should leave," he said to MaryAnn, his voice hard but something else lingered there too—disappointment, anger, maybe even a hint of exhaustion.

MaryAnn didn't argue. She stood frozen for a moment, her expression unreadable. It was almost like she was considering something—an apology? An explanation? But she didn't say anything. She just nodded, as if the decision had already been made for her. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the club, leaving behind only silence and the weight of everything that had just been said.

I stayed close to Everest, the tension between us still palpable. He didn't say anything as we stood there, but I could tell he was upset. It was in the way his jaw tightened, in the tight grip he had around me.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, my fingers brushing against his hand, seeking some kind of connection, something that would reassure me that we were going to be alright.

His gaze softened a fraction, but the storm behind his eyes didn't clear. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice low. "Just... yeah."

It wasn't much, but I could feel it. We were both trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

The silence in the room stretched on, thick and suffocating. Austin stood near the bar, his eyes distant, still processing everything that had just happened. His hands were clenched at his sides, and I could feel the weight of his anger radiating off him. Everest stood next to me, his posture protective, but there was a tension in the air that couldn't be ignored.

I took a deep breath, glancing at Austin as I walked over to him. "Hey," I said softly, trying to get his attention. His eyes flicked to mine, but he didn't say anything. He just stood there, frozen, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"You can't carry her weight anymore," I said, stepping closer, my voice gentle but firm. "She made her choice, Austin. And as much as it hurts, you have to be okay with that."

He shook his head, the frustration evident in every movement. "How am I supposed to be okay with that?" His voice cracked, and I could see the pain in his eyes. "She's our mom. She just leaves. After everything we've been through, she just leaves."

I reached out and placed a hand on his arm, trying to steady him, but Austin didn't pull away. "I know it's hard," I said softly, my voice steady, hoping it would bring him some comfort.

Without saying a word, Austin stood up, quickly wiping the tears from his face as if they hadn't even been there. He composed himself, shoulders straightening, his jaw setting with determination. He gave Everest a brief, acknowledging glance before walking out of the room, the silence left in his wake heavier than before.

I looked up at Everest, unsure of what to say. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, we both just stood there in the stillness.

Everest finally broke the silence, his voice low. "He'll be okay," he said, though the doubt in his tone made me question if he believed it himself.

I nodded, though I wasn't so sure. "One day at a time," I said quietly, squeezing his hand as reassurance. "That's all any of us can do."

Everest let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly processing everything that had just happened. His gaze drifted to the door Austin had walked out of, and for a second, I saw a flicker of worry in his eyes. But it quickly passed, replaced by that familiar mask of control he usually wore.

"Yeah," he said finally, his voice a little softer than before. "One day at a time."

We stood there for a moment longer, not needing to say much more. The weight of everything hung heavy between us, but I knew that despite the tension and pain, we were getting through it. Together.