I hate myself for writing this too. Also, I will go down with the Johnny and Rhetta ship.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

We stuck it out this far together,
Put our dreams right through the shredder,
Let's toast 'cause things got better...
-Halestorm

A soft murmur fell across the crowd when they walked in; the bar was usually rowdy, filled with music and cowboys who couldn't shut up after a day in the oil fields, but today it was filled with an ill fitting quiet. The brunette ducked her head and pulled her hair over her shoulder to curtain her face as she made her way through the crowd that had gathered after the funeral mass – it was all so wrong, nothing close to the way her best friend would have wanted her life celebrated. A warm hand found its place on her shoulder and she turned, ready to tell her husband that she couldn't handle his sympathy right now, but came face to face with her first love. "Johnny…"

"C'mere," he ordered. She fell against him; her nose pressed against his shoulder and her arms circled his waist as he protectively wrapped his arms around her. "It is going to be okay, Rhetta."

"Nothing about this is okay," she whispered. "Grace would have hated all of this, you know? She would have told us all to knock it the fuck off – she would have ordered a round of shots and cranked the stereo, dancing by herself until everyone got up and joined her."

"I know." He brushed a lock of hair back from her face and wiped her tears with her thumb. "She would have called me an ass and made a scene during mass because she could never handle all that seriousness."

"Mary Francis' nearly killed her but she did it because that was Mary Francis. This isn't Grace."

Johnny's hand found the small of her back and he led her through the bar and out the side door that Grace used to use when she wanted some guy but didn't want to bring him home. The Oklahoma heat cocooned them as they leaned against the brick wall and Rhetta felt the chill of shock that had been deep in her bones since she got the call start to chip away. Father John reached in the pocket of his dress pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking one for himself and before extending the package to Rhetta. "This remind you of high school?"

"All that is missing is Grace yelling at you for stealing me away to neck when we were supposed to be having a sleepover," Rhetta told him. She placed the cigarette between her lips and, with shaky hands, she tried to light the Bic.

"Here." Johnny took the lighter from her and lit it ease.

She lit her cigarette and took a deep puff before drooping against the wall; her eyes closed tightly to keep the tears at bay. "I don't know how to function, Johnny. She has been my best friend for as long as I can remember – we were supposed to grow old and share a room in the nursing home, we were supposed to cry together when Clay married Mae because we both knew it was going to happen. How do I live without her?"

"Cause she's not gone," he told her. "She's everywhere, Rhetta. My sister lived her life with all she had, she was full throttle, and now… I see her in everything. She is in every line of my bible, in every prayer I pray, in every sunset, on every street corner, in Clay's eyes and Mae's sarcastic attitude. Grace impacted everything and everyone she met; parts of her live on."

"She loved you," Rhetta told him.

"I know that," he promised. "We may have butted heads but it was only because we loved each other enough to know that, no matter how hard we fought, we could never really drive the other one away."

She sunk to the asphalt below and pulled her knees to her chest. "Grace was who kept everyone going after we lost Mary Francis – who is going to keep us going now?"

"Clay," Johnny told her as he took a seat next to her. "Clay and you."

"Johnny, I can barely breathe."

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper, extending it to her. "I got a letter in the mail yesterday…"

"Who is it from?"

"Grace," he told her quietly. "She knew that she was going to die, Rhetta. She wrote me a letter telling me that she was going to die; she had to die to stop another bombing, to save kids like Clay from the pain of losing parents like Mary Francis. There was laundry list of things I needed to do – the first three were to make sure I took care of you, Clay, and Gus."

Rhetta smiled.

"She left Clay all the money she had, every penny she ever saved, and he's supposed to get it when he turns eighteen – she left him a letter saying he can use it for college if he really wants to but she'll love him just as much if he blows it on booze and girls, she might even be prouder if he does."

She laughed through a sob. "Oh Grace."

"There were a few more letters for him – his eighteenth birthday, his wedding day, and the day his first child is born," Johnny explained. "She left that one for you and there's another in my safe at the church that I am supposed to give you when Clay and Mae eventually get married."

With a sniffle, Rhetta began to unfold the sheet of paper before she read aloud. "Rhetta, I am sitting in the Porsche right now while I try to write this – it's the last thing left to say before I toss this envelope in the mail. You know me, I have never been big on words when action is available but I'm not going to have any action left to give after tonight. You see, baby, I am going to die and I know that I'm breaking a whole lot of promises by dying on you but I'll be dead and you can't stay mad at me for too long. I don't want to leave you… I am so scared to leave you but I have to do this. I have to protect you all, everyone I love. So here's the deal, give yourself a couple weeks to be sad and cry about my dead ass but then you wipe your tears, Rhetta Rodriguez, and you get back on the horse. Literally. Get on a horse. Go riding – take Johnny or Ronnie or the kids with you. Go riding out where I went so many times with Geepaw and I'm sure if you listen hard enough you'll hear my laughter in the wind because I'll be cracking my ass up at the sight of you on a horse. Okay, in all seriousness… My last bit of parting advice is this: be happy. Stop worrying about making everyone else happy and just do whatever will let you sleep peacefully at night. When the day finally comes, I'll be waiting for you at the pearly gates. I love you. I love you. I will always love you. Always, Grace."

They sat in silence for several long moments as Rhetta folded the paper back up and stuck it inside her shirt, between her bra and the beating of her heart. With one last sniffle, she wiped at her smeared mascara for a second before leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of Johnny's mouth. "Come on. I need your help."

"What," he asked as she drug him to his feet.

They made their way back inside the bar; Rhetta's hand curled around Johnny's wrist as she led him through the crowds of people to the far side of the dance floor where the jukebox sat. She fished a couple of quarters from her pocket and fed them into the machine before queuing up a familiar southern rock song and leading Johnny out to the dance floor where she started to spin around. "Louie," she yelled across the room. "A round of shots!"

Johnny laughed and spun her around before pulling her into a hug as they swayed around the dance floor. "That… That is how Grace would want to be remembered."

"Listen closely," Rhetta instructed. "I can hear her laughter."