Page 27 of Dallas Rivals

Oliver: Sorry.

Killian: Nightmares again?

Oliver: Yeah.

He’s my little brother by one year, but he’s always been the louder one, the one who fills a room just by breathing. And he’s never asked what those nightmares are about. Never pushed farther than I let him.

I know he worries.

But if he ever found out what they’re about, he wouldn’t sleep either.

Killian: When are you gonna do something about it?

I stare at the message for a few seconds. The little typing bubble blinks, disappears, comes back again—like he’s thinking twice about pressing me.

The truth is, I’ve tried. Therapy, silence, work. None of it sticks. The only thing that helps is keeping my hands busy and my head down. But I don’t tell him that.

I just force a small grin for the camera.

Oliver: I’m fine, Kill. Just tired.

He doesn’t believe me. Never does.

“I can see you’re talking, idiots. Why don’t you just tell me what you think instead of wasting my time?” Silas snaps, rubbing his forehead like we’re the reason his blood pressure’s climbing.

Kill bursts out laughing and drops his phone onto the desk.

“Relax, Silas. Don’t get angry.”

“I’m angry because I could be home with my wife and kid right now, but instead I’m stuck here babysitting you three. You act like damn teenagers with your phones,” he growls.

Luca smiles, quiet as always. My second-oldest brother’s been smiling more since he got married two years ago—and I’m happy for him.

Kill leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I just picture Julian glued to his phone during dinner,” he teases, tossing the hypothetical into the air. “What are you gonna do then?”

Silas exhales hard, clearly picturing it. My nephew’s four and already has his father’s stubborn streak.

“I’d probably ground him till he’s twenty.”

Kill’s laugh explodes through the speaker—loud, careless, contagious.

It sounds too damn familiar.

Reminds me of someone I don’t want to think about.

Someone who’s been invading my quiet little world since the day she arrived.

“Remember when you used to text Lauren through the whole dinner?” Luca chimes in, siding with his future nephew just to stir the pot.

“That’s different,” Silas mutters, looking exasperated. “It was one time, and she—” He stops mid-sentence and smiles, probably lost in whatever memory just hit him.

“Okay, okay,” Kill interrupts, grinning. “Let’s not make him revisit that memory.”

“Good call,” I say, glancing at my watch. “Can we just vote and wrap this up? Some of us need to sleep.”

Not that I actually can sleep.

For weeks, the nightmares have been waiting for me the moment I close my eyes. When they hit too hard, I try to nap by the lake instead.