The sound of a rusty green truck drowned along Main Street, down that old town road it had so many times in the past, its color symbolic of the woods and the greenery around Pines. It was strange to suddenly be back to normal, the way things changed and how everything around Pines had changed, there were still some things that felt as if Clive was never locked up.

He had the window down. The crisp spring air that had remnants of winter’s frigid grasp on it blew in his messy hair, those dirty blonde locks flowing freely in the air as John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads” played as loud as Clive could bear. He rocked his head forward to the song as well as tapping the outside of his door. Clive wasn’t a singer but he was humming a melody with the song, almost like it was fueling his soul.

He’d missed it. Being able to freely do what he wanted. There were a lot of things he wanted to do. He wanted to taste the mediocre coffee at Lou’s again. He wanted to spend a weekend out in the woods a few miles away from the trailer park. He wanted to lay on a nice rock and look up at the stars by the creek. So many things that had been on his to-do list that he was gonna start as soon as he got out, but a month ago he got the worst news he could ever have received. It came when the prison had its visiting hours near closing, but one of the Black Dogs came to him.

Kent passed away from an illness that couldn’t be treated. That didn’t hit as hard as what Clive had a realization about. Because of the timing and how quick Kent’s widow was with the service, he would miss it by a month. Of all things, that broke his heart the most. Kent McIntyre was not just a friend but like a brother to Clive. A father figure if he was being sappy. Every night, he had to stop himself from crying. Every night, he needed to focus on the important things. Every single night that passed, he grew closer to being released and once he was able to get home, he knew as soon as he was able, he would make a trip.

That’s how he wound up at the cemetery. He never had a reason to be here. Clive had always been fortunate enough to not know the pain of losing someone. He knows he’s lucky and many of those who he had known in his life couldn’t say the same, which made it all the more…awkward for the thirty-seven-year old to be here and standing in front of a tombstone.

Here rests Kent Finlay McIntyre.
Husband. Father. Brother.
“Many a mickle maks a muckle.”

Clive laughed reading that. He could hear it now, the man who was so proudly Scottish. So annoyingly proud would cite those lame proverbs like they were his version of the gospel. He had never known Kent to be religious. That hardcore gambler, hardcore drinker, always fucking but never praying ass of a donkey did a lot of things but worship Jesus Christ? Probably not one of them, yet he could remember him being at every service because Clive hated going alone.

Kent McIntyre’s death had been a hard blow not just for the community of Pines Holler, but also for his young wife. Five years previously, 22 year-old Mollie King had met the former Black Dogs MC president during a visit to celebrate her cousin Dallas’ eighteenth birthday party. The Vegas girl had been smitten with the man instantly, and the Scottish man had been enamoured by the newcomer just as fast. The relationship progressed rather quickly, with six months passed in between their initial meeting and their shotgun wedding. Despite the age gap, the couple dreamt about and planned for many years together: weekend motorcycle road trips on Kent’s vintage bike, infinite games of pool, having a baby or two…

And then Kent illness struck.

At 26, after four years of marriage, Mollie’s role shifted from housewife to full-time caretaker, and eventually to widow. The near year of nursing her husband and immense grief and heartbreak of losing her better half had turned the once spunky, vivacious blonde into the shadow of herself who took position beside Clive. Her normally slender figure was concerningly thin; a result of missed meals and a general lack of appetite. Her cheeks were hollow, and Kent’s leather jacket hung loosely on her now scrawny frame. Dark roots could be seen growing from her scalp, unattractively melting into the rest of her bleached blonde locks. But the saddest transformation was in the way her blue eyes seemed to have lost the playful sparkle that lit up the room anywhere she went.

Clive didn’t know how long he was standing in front of the grave. Maybe over an hour, but before he even realized it, someone else had shown up. A blonde woman. If he hadn’t acknowledged the sound of approaching footsteps on the fallen leaves, then he might’ve missed it. He smiled even before she approached. She looked skinnier than the last time he saw her. Or maybe that was simply because, compared to everyone he ran into since being out, Clive was a lot bigger. There wasn’t a lot to do in prison. He had read all that really interested him, so he lifted weights a lot. But it was still nice to see a friendly face.

He didn’t say anything yet. He was terrible at situations like these - knowing what to say when someone was grieving. It’s why he never gave any toasts or any grand speeches unless he had to. Still, this was the widow of his best friend. His brother. His President. He should say something. “I heard from the grapevine that the service ran until the next morning.” He smiled, knowing for a fact that’s how Kent would’ve partied. “Big Dog told me. Said you guys really kept his spirit alive during that night.”

A watery chuckle filled the air as Mollie confirmed Clive’s statement with a nod. Kent’s youthful, lively, party boy nature at his age had been one of the first qualities that the blonde had been attracted to since the day they met, so it was only fitting that the man’s memorial had shifted into something more fitting to that wild child personality of his. “We were lucky that asshole Val Lockwood wasn’t on shift that night, or else he would’ve shut us down quick. Parker knew how much Kent meant to all of us, so we were able to get away with it no problem.” the widow explained, thinking back to the night of Kent’s service. What had started out as a solemn event honoring her husband’s life had somehow escalated into a full-blown clubhouse party, with Black Dogs of all ages sharing their most memorable moments with Kent in between cigars, beers and shots of whatever burning alcohol they could get their hands on. The young woman had spent the night between crying, laughing and crying again, her heart both full with how much the community had loved her husband but empty at the titanic absence he had left behind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself when it happened, Clive,” she sincerely apologized to her husband’s protege, the small smile from earlier disappearing as her blue eyes full of shame glued themselves to the ground beneath her. Mollie knew Clive had deserved to hear the news straight from her, but– “I couldn’t bring myself to break your heart like that. I was– well, I am– barely holding on myself. I wouldn’t have been able to put on a strong front for you, and I didn’t want to make you feel like you had to be strong for me before you even had time to grieve him on your own.”

He took a moment to think about what his response would be. Clive allowed himself to stare at Kent’s grave. He hated that she felt in any way guilty for not telling him and he didn’t expect her to be strong enough to actually tell him. In truth, it wouldn’t have mattered if she did it or if someone else had, when he was told, the news nearly broke him to pieces. A heart that had barely been holding it together even at that point, shattered into so many pieces that not even a month to sit on it has completely repaired itself.

“Don’t put that burden on yourself. It’s not your cross to bear. It’s why the MC exists. To share that burden so our old ladies don’t have to live with it.” All while that was true, Clive said it more as to help ease whatever guilt she was feeling about it. “Besides, if you are barely keeping it together, well imagine the sight of not one but two hardened members of the Black Dogs family crying their eyes out in a prison.” Even the thought of it made him crack a smile. “It didn’t change the fact that this town lost one of its brightest lights.”

Mollie nodded solemnly, wiping tears she hadn't noticed had rolled down her hollow cheekbones. Clive was right. The MC and its members had been a crucial part of hers and Kent's lives during that last year of his life, and were the reason Mollie hadn't burned herself out caring for Kent in the first place. They'd helped the couple with warm and leftover meals, spending time with Kent to get his mind off things and give the young woman breaks to eat, shower and catch up on sleep… The genuine love and respect the Black Dogs felt for her husband was felt in every kind thought, action and word. So it was no wonder that his loss had caused such pain to the members of the organization.

“You're telling me. Seeing all those past and present members at the wake howling their eyes out had me howling my eyes out too!” Mollie confirmed, remembering how the funeral home had felt more like a wolf's den with the sounds of grown men crying.

As much as he wanted to keep the mood light, Clive just couldn’t. Easing her guilt was one thing, but keeping a brave front when faced with the harsh reality that Kent was buried six feet deep. God gained an angel but sometimes his Lord could be cruel. “It’s a nice tombstone. Even squeezed in the father bit, huh?” He laughed at that. Kent wasn’t a father but he kinda was one.

Clive's last comment made Mollie chuckle again, blue eyes shifting to the headstone she'd so lovingly selected for her beloved. “He almost had me put ‘Daddy’ in it, did you know?” the woman snickered, shaking her head as she remembered Kent's running joke with the members of the MC and how he'd pranked her that afternoon when they were discussing the final details of his personal affairs. “He said he wanted all of you to remember that he ‘would always be your daddy’, even after he died. When he saw the look on my face, he roared with laughter, said he was joking and told me to just put ‘father’ instead.”

He laughed again. It wasn't just at the fact that he wanted to put that on his tombstone. Clive knew Kent well enough to know that was exactly something his old friend would have done. It was something else that caught the attention of the ex-con. “That sure does sound like him. That sense of humor of his was always something that got him in trouble. Or maybe others to be embarrassed. I couldn’t count the number of times he made me do a quick left-right take of those around us because of something he said.”

As Mollie cackled for the first time in what felt like forever and nodded in agreement, a memory flashed before Clive’s eyes. Ten years ago they were out celebrating Clive making VP. It was a normal outing at Huskers but almost every member of the Black Dogs had gathered on that night, lots of drinking and loud laughter, but Kent was probably the most drunk of all. He had made joke after joke and it got to the point where he said something about being a bad father. So bad he should be punished. And in the way he said it, Clive remembered how red everyone was and it wasn’t just from the amount of whiskey in their stomachs or how hard they were laughing. It was from the embarrassment of seeing Kent lean over the countertop with his flat-as-fuck ass out, slapping it.

“He was one of the most shameless men I had ever known. No lack of confidence.” Clive finally said after about a minute of remembering and then he smiled. “But even though he never had any kids of his own, sometimes it felt like I was something like a son to him.” Clive smiled a bit more sadder this time. “Never did have a great relationship with my own. I even went through a rebellious phase in my younger years. Kent found me one day at Huskers and we drank all night and the next day I joined Black Dogs as his prospect.” It was strange, standing here over his grave, how a man who lived life so fully and never once apologized could be gone. No…not gone. He’s still here. So Clive smiled at that.

“My relationship with him was different than yours was. To us in the MC, he was like a father. A brother. An uncle, and at times, a royal pain in our asses. But to you, he was something more. A lover. A partner and, if he remained true even in his last days, a royal pain in your ass.” Clive laughed at that. More because he could just imagine how stubborn he was to the Grim Reaper even if Death himself was sitting in a chair waiting for Kent to finally be ready.

While Clive's story of how her husband became a father-like figure to him and how important he was to him warmed her heart, it also unearthed dark thoughts she had assumed had been buried alongside Kent. “I wanted to give him a kid of his own,” the woman quietly confessed, letting her nearly-skeletal fingers softly graze the cold concrete of the headstone to distract herself from the sudden agonizing ache in her chest. “He wanted to be a father as badly as I wanted to make him one– and it wasn't for lack of trying. Just wasn't in the cards for us, I guess,” she ended sourly, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

For the longest time, Mollie had cursed herself for being unable to fulfill what was widely considered a woman’s main purpose in life. Every few weeks, she had stared long and hard at every pregnancy test she took, desperately hoping to see that positive sign that meant life was growing inside her. Instead, she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into despair and hopelessness at each negative result. Giving up on their attempts to start a family due to Kent’s failing health had been one of the hardest decisions the couple had ever made, but Mollie wanted to think it had all been for the best. The heartbreak of losing her husband was soul-sucking enough without the pressure of having to raise a child without a father.

A bittersweet smile crept its way on Clive's face. A memory flashed through his blue eyes, recalling conversations he and Kent had many times. Both when Clive was a lot younger, when he had joined the Black Dogs and started to get close enough to Kent to have deeper conversations. He remembered how Kent lamented to him about his dreams of fatherhood, how life in the military and failed relationships never gave him the chance to really be a father.

A twitch pulsed through Clive’s face, a hint of sadness and bit of anger of the circumstances that took Kent away from everyone. But it was also sadness for Mollie, because she wasn’t able to give Kent what he wanted, after finally being in a relationship with someone who loved him as much as he loved her.

Clive looked at Mollie, smiling her way. “Life is unfair but shit happens,” Clive recited, speaking in his best, albeit totally failing at, Scottish accent he could muster. Pretty sure it sounded more European than anything else, but it made the woman laugh a little. “That’s what Kent used to tell me all the time. It’s what he told me when I was finding my way through the MC as a prospect.” Clive often wondered what Kent would say right now? What would be his words of wisdom? Probably something about drinking, fucking, and more drinking and fucking.

“He wasn’t wrong, though,” Mollie admitted in a sing-song voice, nodding in agreement. If there was something Kent MacIntyre wasn't, it was a dreamer. Sure: he indulged in entertaining fantasies every once in a while, but the man lived his life with both feet firmly planted on the ground. Some called him a Negative Nancy for it. Mollie knew it was just blunt, realistic honesty. “‘Life is unfair but shit happens, and it’s up to you how you play the cards life dealt ‘cha’,” she finished her husband's famous saying in her own terrible attempt at a Scottish accent, trying to lighten the mood like Clive had earlier. “So that's what I've been doing now: playing the cards life dealt me. I was stuck in bed for two months after he left, but I knew I couldn't do that forever. He wouldn't have wanted me to wither away like that. So did what he would’ve wanted me to do: put on my big girl pants and get back on the saddle. It still hurts like hell to wake up every day without him next to me knowing he'll never be back, but I just try to live life in a way he would've been proud of… Like he would've wanted you and everyone else to do, too.”

“That’s the first step.” Clive thought for a moment. He turned his head away from Mollie and turned his blue eyes on Kent’s grave. The irony of grieving the man was that Clive could really use his advice right about now. Not just about what he should do from here on out but what should Mollie do now that she’s taken that first step. What should be their path moving forward? That was the question that could solve all of their problems, but God didn’t give you all the answers - only what you needed and could handle.

“Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Clive recited, giving Mollie a smile. A few tears glistened in the sunlight but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. There was joy in embracing the natural reaction to grief. “Isaiah, 43 18-19. I’ve been reading the good book a lot lately. It’s been…comforting.”

Mollie nodded in understanding. As someone who'd never been interested in religion, she couldn't relate to Clive finding solace in the scripture of an ancient book. But what she could do was understand his reasoning behind it without any judgement. It was a healthier option than seeking consolation in the bottom of a bottle or illicit substances, after all.

“And I guess we have each other now too, right?” the blonde said with a small smile, turning to face Clive and noticing his own tears slowly disappear into his beard. She didn’t know what exactly possessed her to do it (probably Kent’s spirit from beyond the grave hoping to provide comfort to his son of sorts), but before she could stop herself, Mollie was closing the distance between the two and wrapping her arms around the man’s burly frame in a tight hug she was sure they both needed.

There wasn’t a physical hesitation on Clive’s end when she decided to go for a hug, but only a mental one. He knew it was nothing more than two people who loved Kent and found comfort in the moment, but he didn’t do well with hugs in tense situations. He didn’t know what he should do. Should he return it or should he just let her hug him and be the wall of support for her in that moment.

After about five seconds of thought, Clive opted to return it as he wrapped his bigger arms around his friend’s widow. He didn’t know what the right amount of force for a hug with someone like this was. Too tight and it would send the wrong messages but not tight enough and that could send the wrong message, so he gave her a hug back that was the same as if he was hugging a family member in need. A friend who wanted to comfort him and needed comfort herself. And he wasn’t the type to just do it for a few seconds. However long they remained, whether it was five seconds, a minute, ten minutes even, he would hold her there, let her be the one to release first.

But the truth was, as silent as the day around them was, Clive needed it as much as she did. Probably more. “You got that right.” He said to her as quiet as a whisper and then in an even quieter tone that was for his ears only, he murmured, “She’ll be okay, Kent. We got her.”

“Noah! Hi!” Elsie excitedly greeted her best friend ten minutes after her arrival at the beginning of the trail, sprinting towards him to wrap her slender arms around his taller frame. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, letting the smell of his woody, earthy cologne fill her senses and basking in the comfort of his presence. The oldest Tanner sibling was the only other person besides her father who had the ability to make Elsie feel safe and loved with his presence alone, so she never wasted the chance to seek the comfort that his embrace always brought her… And the butterflies fluttering wildly in her stomach that he seemed to evoke for a few years now. “You ready to head up?” she asked him with a bright smile as she pulled away.

Noah returned the hug tightly, the boy had gotten used to Elsie’s physical affection over the years; though not to say it doesn’t still trip him up at times.

As they pulled away, Noah caught her expression.

She smiled.

Surprisingly, she smiled. A quick little thing. A flicker. Something that one would question if they saw or not. A moment of perfection too great, too brilliant to comprehend in an instant. The depths of his core warmed, the longing whisked away for but a moment.

Noah wanted- no, needed more. He swiped his nose; a clumsy, boyish reflex to mask the heat climbing his throat. He bit his inner cheek, desperate to anchor himself before he drifted entirely into her orbit.

“Oh- uh yeah let’s go.” Noah said, voice a bit low, as he followed closely behind.

Elsie and Noah made their way down the familiar, mile-long path in silence, quietly enjoying the sounds of the lively nature scene happening around them and exchanging looks and smiles along the way. Sometimes, it seemed like the days the two of them had to spend with one another were becoming few and far between. Their responsibilities to themselves and their families only grew by the minute, making it hard to coordinate moments like these where they weren’t in the presence of Elsie’s dad or Noah’s siblings. So when days like today came around, El made an effort to spend them the way they were going to: outdoors, in the company of a favorite friend.

As soon as the waterfall came within view, Elsie’s face broke into a grin, and she sprinted in its direction. She dropped off her items on top of a table nearby, stripped down to her swimsuit, ran to the swimming hole and jumped right in. The sound of her body splashing into the water echoed across the space, as did her giggles of delight as she swam around the space, enjoying the feeling of the cooling moisture against her bare skin after the hike.

“Come on in! The water feels amazing right now!” the girl called out to Noah, gesturing for him to join her in the middle of the natural pool.

Noah was flummoxed, if anything. He resisted just gawking at Elsie, slowly stripping his jacket and leather pants into swimwear.

Soon his ‘motherly’ instincts kicked in as he joined her in the lake, “Be careful, Elsie. Your dad would kill me if something happened here.”

The cold water felt ephemeral on his body. It had been hot- hotter than normal he’d say. And not many people in Pines Holler really had air conditioning of sorts. Especially not his family. Though he didn’t show it, this week had him stressed. Bills upon bills. This swim was a nice reprieve, but a gnawing part of his brain kept telling him that he shouldn’t be wasting his time to ‘relax’ and get back to the grind. Noah hasn’t ever really given himself any time to relax ever since his parents abandoned him and his siblings.

Maybe it was a good thing, but his mind certainly wouldn’t let him think so.

When Noah’s warning reached her ears, Elsie couldn’t help but giggle and roll her eyes. Her father and her best friend liked to treat her like she was a china doll sometimes: always trying to keep her from any potential harm. It had been that way since she was a child. On one hand, she understood their concern. Elsie was known for being a bit of a risk-taker and a thrill-seeker, so her suffering potential injuries were never out of the question. But the two men, in their infinite sense of responsibility for the girl’s well-being, did exaggerate sometimes– just like Noah happened to be doing at this very moment.

“We’ve been here a million times, Noah! Everything’s going to be fiiiiiiine: trust me,” she reassured her friend, swimming in his direction. She knew it was in his nature to worry about her, but it was in her nature to reassure him of the opposite. “Close your eyes... Take a deep breath in… Aaaaaand out… Let your worries wash away with the current flowing around us…” she recommended in a voice reminiscent of those relaxing, soft-spoken ASMR videos she watched on youtube sometimes.

Noah followed her words, his breath steadied and he looked relaxed. He actually could take in the beauty of his surroundings and… well… her. The week has been rough, to say the absolute least, and he definitely needed some rest and relaxation. The tension on his shoulders released and slumped as he continued floating.

“Yeah, you’re right Elsie.” He replies with a small smile, “Feels like I’ve been shouldering too much baggage the past week, sorry.”

Elsie’s lips came together in a pout. “What have I said about apologizing for how you feel?” the girl warned, splashing Noah’s face.

Noah shook the water from his face with a slight laugh. “How are you and your dad, have you two been okay? I feel like it’s been a bit since I asked about him.”

“We’ve been okay! Dad actually has an interview later about a line cook position at the diner,” the brunette told Noah, allowing her body to relax until she was floating face-up. “I really hope he gets it. You know how stressful things have been living with only my paychecks, and I know how depressed he gets the longer it goes without him finding a job,” Elsie explained. The Woods duo had never been ones to live comfortably financially, but the loss of Elliott’s job at the lumber mill had put an extra strain on them. She wasn’t much of a faith-based person, but El would be lying if she said she hadn’t been praying for her dad to get this job since he’d told her about the interview.

“I also hope your dad gets it, he’s a good man and didn’t deserve what happened to him.” Noah felt a pang of guilt on how he felt that the expansion might grant his siblings a better quality of life. But seeing how many people he knows and acquainted with have been affected… he felt like a selfish douche.

“What about you? You said you’ve been shouldering too much baggage this week. What’s going on?” she asked him, concerned about what could be weighing on her bestie's shoulders.

“Just the same old, same old, you know?” Noah laid flat, floating along the waves, he hasn’t felt this loose for ages. “Bills- rent, their schooling and just being… tired, y’know?” He really didn’t want to dig deeper.

Elsie knew Noah well enough by now to know that there was more about his troubles than he was letting on, but she also knew that it was pointless to pry. So rather than push, she let it be. When he was ready, he would tell her.

“... Not that I wanna throw my baggage at you, Elsie. But I am glad you brought me out here, really brings into perspective how small my issues are.”

With a quick kiss, Liz swearing up and down she'd be ok and a promise to regroup soon, Liz and Isaiah parted ways within Huskers. Liz took in her surroundings that she was so accustomed to yet hadn’t stepped foot in for the better part of 4 months. The clinking of glasses, laughing of friends and scents of citrus and spirits, all brought a sweet sense of familiarity. Although leaving her job was somewhat of a necessity Liz did miss it something fierce.

As her eyes took in the scene before her they settled on Mollie who seemed to be standing away from the crowds. She looked… restrained. Seeing Mollie in this state especially in Husker’s of all places gave Liz a twinge of sadness. She was used to Mollie being anything but reserved at the bar, her laughs usually filled the air as she seemed to find time to converse with almost everyone. Liz wondered if she’d ever come back to Huskers after Kent’s death. Liz quit her job at the bar only 2 months after the man’s death and the lack of either of the McIntyres’ presence in that time was noticeable. Since Kent’s death most of the instances the women had crossed paths were at the general store or on the street, Mollie’s patronage to Husker’s wasn’t really a worthy query in those small interactions.

Liz made her way over to the woman, finding a place next to her. ”Hey, how you holding up?” she asks softly.

Stepping into Huskers for the first time since Kent’s passing had stirred a wave of emotions inside Mollie. The familiarity of her surroundings had hit her first, momentarily filling her with a strange sense of peace. Then came the rush of memories: the first time she’d laid eyes on Kent by the pool table across the room, the way his unmistakable laughter used to echo inside the space, the feeling of his arms around her lifting her up and spinning her around whenever she or they won a pool game, the many conversations they’d shared across beers and joints… She was grateful to have Dallas by her side– her arm keeping her steady until the overwhelm washed away. Once she gave her the okay, the cousins separated, with Dallas making a beeline to the booth at the furthest end of the room while Mollie chose to occupy the last, most discreet stool at the very corner of the bar. She ordered a water and quietly observed the familiar surroundings, trying to not call attention to herself.

Mollie offered the woman a sad smile and merely shrugged. “It’s so strange, being here without him,” the blonde admitted, discreetly wiping away the tears out of the corners of her eyes. “I’ve never known this place without him. We met here. We had our first date here. We had our first kiss right outside of those doors. We came here every weekend to play pool. Even when he was sick, he still tried to make it in here at least once a week; even if it was just to have a glass of water while chatting with his neighbors or listening to the same old songs in the jukebox. Coming in here and knowing he’s never going to walk through the doors with that loud Scottish laugh of his announcing he’s arrived ever again is just… It’s a lot.”

Liz nodded her head sympathetically, pulling out a nearby seat at a small table and sitting herself down, she nodded at the seat across from her, offering the younger woman a seat. Liz knew the pain of losing a loved one but she knew it in the form of losing an unborn child, not a partner. She had no clue how she would act if she lost Isaiah. “I'm sorry, Mollie,” the woman says softly. “It can't be easy. I quit a few months ago but the time I was here after his passing we missed having him around. We missed both of you. I don't think this place was ever the same. Or ever will be. Is this your first time back?”

“That’s so kind of you to say. Thank you,” Mollie thanked Liz with a soft, grateful smile, feeling her spirits lift a little. While the pain of losing Kent was immense, it made her feel better to know that she wasn’t the only one to lose someone so meaningful, and that she wasn’t alone in her time of grief. “Yeah, it’s my first time back here since it happened. I wish it was under better circumstances, but this power outage kind of forced my hand a little. It was either come here to enjoy the AC and maybe a cold one or stay home baking in the heat and listening to Dallas whine about not having power,” she joked, poking fun at her spoiled little cousin. As much as she loved Dal, Mol would’ve gone nuts if she’d been subjected to her dramatic sighs and protests for the entire day.

Liz gave a chuckle as Mollie poked fun at her younger cousin. It was nice to see a somewhat real smile on the girl's face, even if small. Most of the time Liz had seen Mollie recently she had been miserable, not that any of it was invalid misery. “It's nice to see you smilin’ again, feels like getting some of yourself back, hey?” she says gently, shifting in her seat. The AC was much nicer than the oven their home had suddenly become overnight. “Let me buy ya a drink, I think you deserve it for putting up with this place. You still a bahama mama girl?”

“I am, but I’ll settle for a mimosa this early in the morning,” the blonde replied. While indulging in day drinking would not be judged by any of the townspeople (especially not someone in her situation), Mol wanted to avoid hard liquor so early in case the power came back on and she had to reopen the store. The last thing she wanted was to lose her job over something like that. “Enough about me and my troubles, though. I feel like I’ve wallowed in my own misery for too long. How are things with you and the baby? It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

Liz made a mental note of Mollie's request, she'd make sure to swing by the bar and get her her drink soon. She rests a hand on her stomach as Mollie asks about the baby. “We've got ‘bout 2 months to go,” if it actually happens her mind couldn't help but internally tack onto the end of that sentence. Liz wished she could avoid the slight pull of dread that seemed to present itself when the baby came into the conversation. She should be excited. She was excited but that excitement seemed to come with the condition of that excitement being tampered. She tried to shake it away.

“Oh shit, already?! That’s so exciting!” Mollie replied with earnest enthusiasm. She knew there were women out there who, after suffering from their own fertility battles, would have bittersweet or negative feelings around pregnancy and pregnant women. In Mol’s case, she had already come to terms with the fact that she wouldn’t be a mother, so the proximity to Liz in her expectant state didn’t trigger any adverse reactions.

“Well he's alive and- quite literally- kicking so I guess they're good. We're honestly a bit behind on everything. Sai repainted the nursery but I don't think he's moved back the furniture or started decorating. Guess we should get on that soon, shouldn't we?” Liz gave a gentle sigh, moistening her lips slightly. “Grief is a… weird thing, ain’t it? I mean Sai and I tried years for this baby and we're almost there and this place was essentially your home and family for the better part of 5 years but neither of us are really having a good time right now, are we?”

“You’re not wrong…” Mollie trailed off with a sigh of her own. “I just try to look at the bright side of things, no matter how hard it can be sometimes. My Kent is gone and there’s nothing I can do to change that. But thanks to him, I’ve got a home, and I’ve met such wonderful people in this town. Gives me something to be grateful for. You and Isaiah suffered a lot to get here, but now look: you’re weeks away from being blessed with the child you both wanted so desperately. It’s just a matter of reminding yourself that time’s your best friend, and that nothing bad lasts forever.”

“You’ve got a good point there, Mollie,” Liz replies with a smile. Not that it ever felt that simple, or that time seemed to be on Liz’ side in recent days but she kept that inside, no need to be more of a downer to an already grieving widow. “I’m glad you’re seeing the good in it all; I can see why Kent was sweet on you. Just make sure you try to see it when you’re alone too, yeah?”

Mollie nodded in agreement. “I'll certainly try,” she told the woman, taking a sip from her water. Sometimes days were harder than others, but she tried to live by her own words as much as she could. “What about Isaiah? How is he doing? I haven't seen him in a while.”

“He's… trying his best.” Liz replies with a sigh, leaning back into her seat. Her fingers nervously tap on the tabletop. “It's a bit of a hard time for him between the mill shutting down and being so close to the anniversary of our… my last miscarriage. I think it's weighing on him more than he'll admit. But he's keeping busy, he's been here with the guys most nights the past couple of weeks. How's the smokeshop?”

The blonde clicked her tongue sympathetically. The closing of the lumber mill had been a hard blow for the town and its residents, and it couldn't have come at a worse time for Liz and her family. Mol could only hope that Isaiah found something to support them before the baby came. “I'm sorry to hear that, Liz. I really am. I'm here if you ever need anything,” Mollie told the dark-haired woman, reaching out for her hand to squeeze it in an attempt at comfort. “And the smokeshop is fine. Boss won't be happy about having to close down and missing out on business because of this outage, but not much you can do, you know?”

Liz squeezes Mollie's hand in return. “We're fine, really,” she replies. Not a lie, at least as long as Isaiah found himself work in the next week or two it wasn't. Liz managed to catch the eye of a bartender, the pair trading small smiles.

“Liz, long time, no see. Can I get something for you?” She asks brightly.

“Hey, Char. Can you just grab us a mimosa, please?”

The younger bartender's brows seem to furrow slightly, “Liz, we both know I can't stop you but-”

“Not for me, for Mollie,” Liz clarifies with a chuckle as she pulls her wallet out of her pocket. “But I'll take an O.J.. Don't start a tab for me, I'll just pay now.” She pulls some notes out of her wallet and tells the bartender to keep the change. She turns her attention back to Mollie as their drinks are quite quickly prepared and placed in front of the pair. “At least it's a day off for you. Let's hope the power comes back soon though, I'm not sure if I can take more than a day of this heat. Is it just me or is this happening more often?”

“Me either, girlfriend,” Mollie answered, showing her appreciation to the bartender with a wink and taking a sip of her new drink. “And I hate to say that it feels like it. Times like these make me miss Vegas: we never went without power as long and as often as we do down here.”

“Y'know, the thought of that alone might just turn me into a city girl,” Liz jokes, taking a sip from her glass. “Maybe I just didn't notice it as much then but I swear the power grid didn't overheat this often when I was growing up. You ever think about heading back to Vegas?”

The blonde took a long sip of her mimosa. The truth of the matter was that, ever since Kent's passing, the appeal of returning to her hometown was weighing heavily on her shoulders. Sure, Pines had become her new home and all; but this was Kent's town, not hers. The residents had become family in multiple ways, but it didn't compare to having her tribe close to her. “Sometimes,” Mollie admitted, though she heavily downplayed the truth of the matter. “But I don't want to leave Dallas right now. God knows that girl needs all the support she can get right now…” she said.

“No one'll blame you for wanting to go home. One of Isaiah's biggest goals was to get us out of here and I get it, I'd follow him, but I know no where else would ever feel the same. I'd probably be homesick on the daily. Can't imagine moving somewhere that probably feels like a downgrade and wanting to stay.” Liz takes another sip of her juice, taking a moment to recognise she really did miss alcohol- a beer felt like the perfect combatant to the Summer heat, before leaning back in her seat once more. She mentally shuffled through what she knew about Dallas- not much but in a small town like this wasn't nothing. It did cause her mind to then shift to her cousin, Caleb. It had been about a decade since they really spoke let alone been close. “It's good of you to be there for her. I'm sure she appreciates it. How's she doing?”

Mollie turned to look at Dallas, whose face was still on her phone in the distant booth she'd selected, and couldn't help but laugh. “Same old, same old,” she replied, turning back to the dark-haired woman. “She's mostly over the Valentino situation– thank God. God knows I'm glad that’s finally over and done with. She's had a strong, firm boundary against him for a few months now; so even if he gets down on his knees groveling and begging to get her back, she's not budging– which honestly is such a big relief. She's got her eye on someone else, too, so that definitely helps put my mind at ease that she's totally done with him and will never take him back,” she told Liz, a certain ex-con/firefighter coming to mind.

It was good to hear that Dallas hadn't gotten over her recent fling but the way Mollie worded it all- it sounded like more than just normal post break up bad blood. Liz knew they ended things and were never seen together after so it likely wasn't the most amicable of breaks but she hadn't heard of anything terrible being involved. It was almost as if Valentino had actually done something. Liz and Val weren't particularly close but she knew him well enough from all his time spent at the bar and their interactions were pleasant enough.

“What actually happened between her an-” Liz felt a lurch in her stomach as she seemed to somehow grow paler than she already is. What followed was a queasiness she had gotten reacquainted with all too well the past few weeks. Maybe orange juice wasn't the best choice today. “I… Sorry Mol I need- let's catch up again soon, kay?” she speeds through her words, not quite finishing a thought. She quickly jumps off her seat, lest she lose the race with the contents of her stomach. She knew the last thing Husker and his employees needed was more to clean. Forcing a smile toward Mol she gives a pathetic excuse for a wave before beelining to the bathroom. She supposed finding out about Val and Dallas’ history was for another day.

Pines Holler was a small town. For better or for worse, this meant that every choice and decision you made would follow you around for the rest of your life in ways that it might not if you were living in a city or a larger location. For Dallas King, this was a rather annoying, hard pill to swallow. While she had hoped that her arrival at Huskers went by without a hitch, that was a lot to ask when it was the only place in town besides Dr. Ellie’s clinic with a working generator.

Within the first five minutes of being at the bar, Dal was already regretting her decision to accompany Mollie. Her co-worker Jolene had arrived with her adorable daughter, both of them accompanied by one of the mistakes the young woman had made shortly after Aiden’s departure to the military. Caleb Dalton was still as handsome as ever– which added insult to the old injury to her pride no matter how much time had passed since the incident. A few years ago, Dallas and Caleb had involved themselves in a heated fling that would make people blush if they knew the specifics. Their chemistry was hot and undeniable, and the times spent together would be considered fond memories had it not been for what happened next. Darling Dallas, ever the naive hopeless romantic searching for her one true love, made the age-old mistake of catching feelings for the man not too long into their arrangement, and confessing said feelings to Caleb. As expected, he didn’t take the news well. The spooked bartender did not reciprocate her feelings, and the arrangement was over as quickly as it had begun. Seeing his face at any point in time after that was only an unwelcome reminder of how stupid and embarrassing she could be when confusing infatuation for love, so she made it her mission to avoid him at all costs. Today, the mission was deemed unsuccessful.

As if the memory of how she had metaphorically fallen flat on her face wasn’t enough, another one of her past mistakes would soon enter the fold. Dal found herself huffing in annoyance and sinking further into her booth seat, hoping that the distance from the door would make her virtually invisible to one of the two law enforcement officers entering the fray. Leave it to Valentino Lockwood to show up unannounced to a location she was at whether he was on the clock or not. Working at the place the man frequented for breakfast had meant mastering the art of politeness in his presence, but it didn’t mean voluntarily subjecting herself to his company. If it wasn’t for a guardian angel showing up beside him in the form of her best friend, the blonde would’ve bolted through the emergency exit doors by the bathrooms and ran all the way back home.

And to top it all off, there was the pointed absence of her beloved Clive Evermore.

All this effort into her makeup and this cute but flirtatious outfit? Wasted. Thrown away in the trash like a used paper towel. What was the point of enduring the torture of having Valentino and Caleb under the same roof if it didn’t get her any closer to reeling in the big fish she’d been trying to catch for months now? A true shame, if you asked her.

Right now, Dallas had two options. One: she could wallow alone in her self-created misery in this old, worn-down bar booth like a total LOSER. Or two, she could take advantage of Aiden’s miraculous presence to help the time pass by quicker.

She chose the second option– duuuuh.

After ensuring her presence hadn’t been noticed yet, Dal shot Aiden a quick text: I’m hiding in the last booth to the left of the bar. Come save me pls! 🥺🙏