Page 63 of Dallas Rivals
I cross my arms and let out a long sigh.
“We just weren’t compatible. He wants to be the best journalist of the country someday, and I… don’t have those ambitions anymore.”
Silence settles over us again.
The aggressive guitar riffs fill the space between us—loud, relentless, and nothing like the calm, ethereal music I usually listen to.
“What are your ambitions now?”
Is he asking because he really wants to know… or because he can’t stand the silence between us?
“To live in the moment,” I say after a beat. “Keep learning, little by little. Get better every day.” I stretch a little; this SUV’s huge, plenty of room to move.
“I don’t know how much more you can learn,” he says. “You’ve already got everything down.”
“Is that a compliment, Mr. Walker?”
He lets out a soft laugh.
“It’s the truth. You’re doing great. You’re still standing after everything that’s happened these last few months. What can I say—you’re damn near perfect.”
The smile fades from his face as soon as the words leave his mouth. He clears his throat and looks straight ahead again, brows furrowed, like he’s mad at himself for saying it.
“Thanks,” I whisper, tucking my hands between my knees. “Sometimes I just… need to hear that. Dad can be a little strict.”
“I know. My father was the same way with us—nothing was ever enough.”
“You have siblings?”
“Yeah. Three. Silas, Luca, and Killian.”
“I always wanted brothers,” I say, looking out the window. “Being an only child gets lonely sometimes.”
“Can’t imagine life without mine,” he says softly. “We don’t talk as much now—they’re scattered all over the country—but they’re my family.”
“And are they all hopeless bachelors like you?”
He laughs—a real one this time, warm and unguarded.
“No. Well, Killian, maybe. Silas and Luca are married with kids. My nephew Julian’s the spitting image of Silas—hot-headed and spoiled. My niece, Mila… she’s still little, but—”
He trails off and stop talking all the sudden.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Just realized I was rambling. Didn’t wanna bore you.”
That was rambling? Clearly this man’s never been trapped in a room with my mom and her sister.
“I wasn’t bored,” I tell him.
He nods once and goes on, quietly.
“Mila loves horses. She came out here once. Her mom promised she’d bring her back soon.”
“That’s why the guest room’s decorated like that, isn’t it?”
He nods again, his grip tightening on the wheel.
