Page 22 of Dallas Rivals

And yeah, her hands. Long, slender fingers. Nails short and clean. No polish. No rings.

I don’t know why the hell I notice that.

“Come on, Astro.” I whistle twice. He doesn’t move.

Traitor.

“Go!” Cala orders, snapping her fingers, and the damn dog gets up instantly, trotting obediently back to me.

I can’t believe it.

“Good night, Miss Saint-Clair,” I mutter over my shoulder, walking away from that woman—girl—before I do something stupid, like stay.

Living together has been… rough.

Let’s just say privacy’s become a myth in our household.

The upside? I spend way more time outdoors than inside.

Probably more than I should—but honestly, who’s keeping track?

Out here, the world feels wider.

The air smells like sage and rain, the kind of scent that hits you in the chest and makes you feel alive.

The sky’s painted this furious shade of pink, and the cold breeze slips right through my clothes, but I don’t move.

I’m too comfortable, sitting in the dirt with my gloves half off, talking to the plants like they’re old friends.

They don’t talk back, but somehow, they listen better than most people.

AURORA plays in my earbuds—her voice soft and wild all at once.

There’s something about her songs that makes me feel understood, like she gets what it’s like to be in between worlds—half practical adult, half dreamer still hoping the stars have something to say.

Sometimes I wonder if that’s my problem: I’m too willing to believe the earth and the sky are still talking to us… and I’m the fool who’s listening.

The garden’s full of seasonal veggies, all lined up in neat little rows.

Eliza—sweet, bossy Eliza—told me Mr. Walker refuses to plant fruit because it attracts rats.

And apparently, the big bad cowboy’s scared of rodents.

That’s my theory, anyway.

No solid evidence. Just vibes.

But hey, I can’t judge him.

I’m not exactly brave when it comes to creepy little things either.

Still, it’s funny—someone like him, so put together, so untouchable, terrified of something so small.

Makes me wonder what else he’s afraid of.

I watch the light fade, one breath at a time, and realize how much I love it here.

Not just the view, but the stillness—the kind that doesn’t ask anything from me.