Page 6 of Dallas Rivals

Don’t think about it, Cala. Don’t reason it.

A month ago, my life was… normal. Simple.

I was studying at Baylor University in Waco, Texas—getting my postgraduate degree in digital journalism.

I lived with my mom and helped her around the house while Daddy worked for the famous—or infamous—Oliver Walker.

Yeah, that Oliver Walker. The billionaire hermit who owns a mega-super-duper ranch in Dallas and barely talks to anyone.

At the time, I was dating a guy named Roger—met him at school. We’d been seeing each other for about six months. Nice guy, from a wealthy family, studying business management.

I worked at the Waco Tribune, interviewing small-town shop owners who were all about that new “Fixer Upper” farmhouse craze.

So, yeah—my life was heading exactly where it was supposed to: organized, quiet, average.

Until the world flipped upside down.

Now I’ve gotta leave everything I know behind to work at Walker Ranch.

Don’t get me wrong—I’d do anything for my parents. But my brain’s still catching up, trying to rewrite the future I had planned for myself.

Goodbye laptop, hello shovel.

Goodbye fitted office clothes, hello overalls.

Goodbye journalism books, hello manuals on farming, animals, and hard labor.

I close the truck’s double doors and pat them gently, like I’m reassuring a horse before a long ride.

Four hours to Dallas—just me, the road, and whatever’s waiting on the other end.

Mama’s back home at the old house, getting the cabin ready for the three of us.

We agreed I’d take care of moving everything, while she makes sure Daddy’s set up comfortably.

He wants to be close—to teach me everything I don’t know about running a ranch.

I start the engine, adjust my seatbelt, and take a deep breath.

“Here we go…”

Olivia Rodrigo’s “Good 4 U” blares from the radio, and before I know it, I’m singing at the top of my lungs down the Texas highway, shaking off every bit of bad energy I’ve been carrying.

My fingers reach for the lapis lazuli necklace Grandma gave me—blue with tiny golden specks that catch the light.

I smile, grateful Daddy’s still alive, grateful life keeps moving.

I stop for lunch somewhere off the road, poking at a salad with a plastic fork while reading a message from Roger.

When I told him what happened, he was more heartbroken than I was.

Said he’d move to Dallas to help me—though I’m pretty sure that was just talk. His life’s rooted deep in Waco.

And look, I don’t mean to sound cold, but I’ve seen enough long-distance couples crash and burn to know how that story ends.

Somebody always ends up in someone else’s arms, and everything goes to hell.

I don’t want that for myself.