Page 104 of Dallas Rivals

Then Silas turns to me. “And you?”

“One,” I admit.

He nods once and sets his glass down on the coffee table.

“Then talk to Lucien. Tell him the truth, make it clear he doesn’t get to stand between you and her. If he can’t accept it, fine—he’s free to disagree. But you’re done denying yourself another damn day with her.”

I listen carefully.

We all do.

Because out of the four of us, Silas has always been the one who cuts through the noise—the one who makes hard choices every day without flinching.

And whether I want to admit it or not, there’s nothing like a brother’s advice.

Oliver spends a lot of time with his nieces and nephews, teaching them how to ride with the same patience he once had with me.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.

His brothers are everywhere, exploring different corners of the property like it’s some kind of family retreat.

Killian, for instance, runs every morning. And yes, not looking at him is nearly impossible. The man’s a walking billboard for bad decisions—his torso is completely tattooed, and his muscles look like they were carved by an Italian sculptor.

Silas is usually sprawled out on one of the outdoor couches—which, by the way, Eliza had to dust off because no one ever used them. His wife lounges beside him, though she always has her laptop open, multitasking like a pro.

Luca is the first one I see most mornings. I’ve discovered he’s much more talkative when it’s just the two of us in the kitchen. We even bonded over a book he was reading; it turned out I’d read it a few years ago. When I mentioned I used to work as a journalist, he bombarded me with questions until I had to escape to get back to work.

His wife, Emma, is an incredible artist. Every sunset, I find her on the balcony, painting the view of the ranch. She promised the finished piece would be a gift for me, and honestly, that made my entire week.

I was never the kind of girl who had a lot of close friends, but the Green sisters treat me like we’ve known each other forever—and I absolutely love it.

This morning, while I was feeding the cows, Lauren told me that she and Emma went to the same high school as the Walker brothers—and that Silas used to be her bully.

I stared at her with my jaw practically on the ground as she told me how much he used to drive her crazy. But then she said she eventually realized that he actually loved her.

And honestly, I believe it. You can see it in his eyes every time she walks into the room. I just can’t picture him ever being hostile toward her now.

Emma’s story is a little more tragic. It involved years of bad timing and even worse communication, but they found their way back to each other a few years ago. And now they’re so happy it’s almost ridiculous.

So here I am, getting the full Walker family backstory, and I’m absolutely fascinated.

My father hates every second I spend with the Walkers.

Ever since I chose to go with Oliver instead of staying with them at the rehab center, he’s barely spoken to me. Now, he only acknowledges my existence when he wants to give me an order or to remind me how much he disapproves.

I try to ignore it. I really do.

But I can’t shake the ache that comes from knowing my own father wants to box me into a world where women keep their heads down, where I’m supposed to believe that someone like Oliver—wealthy, educated, from a different world—doesn’t belong beside me.

That’s what hurts the most.

He and my mother raised me to look at the world with an open mind, so I don’t understand why, now that life has stripped us down to what’s real, he can’t be happy for me, for us.

Oliver is the loneliest man I’ve ever met, someone who needed help and, if I’m being honest, someone I needed too.

In a sea of gray days and quiet monotony, Oliver gave me something no one else ever did.

Pure love. Grateful love. New love.