Page 102 of Dallas Rivals

“Yes.”

The whole table bursts out laughing—including Silas.

“What do you want?”

“Wanna see the horses,” Julian demands, kicking his legs that don’t quite reach the floor.

I push back my chair and stand.

“I’ve got it,” I say, patting Silas’s shoulder as I walk past.

“Mila, you wanna see the horses too?” Luca asks, then mutters under his breath, “So I can have a minute alone with your mom.”

Emma elbows him, but she’s smiling.

“We’ll take the kids for a while,” Cala says, following me. “You guys enjoy yourselves.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon entertaining the little ones—letting them chase the chickens and pet the sheep.

Then we walk them over to the cows, and finally, to the horses.

They each get to ride inside the paddock, giggling and high-fiving like they’ve just conquered the world.

Cala and I steal glances in between their laughter, and every time she smiles, I wonder what she’s feeling right now—if it’s as impossible to put into words as it is for me.

By the end of the day, we end up by the lake.

The kids play by the water’s edge, and we sit on the grass, watching the sun melt into the horizon.

“You like kids,” Cala says. It’s more of a statement than a question.

I nod thoughtfully, watching my niece and nephew crouch by the shore, studying the fish darting through the shallows.

“What about you?”

Cala glances at them, then back at me. “I think so? I’m not sure. It was never a goal of mine. But with those adorable nieces and nephews of yours, it’s hard not to reconsider.”

“They are adorable little devils,” I admit, smiling as I watch them again. I can’t wipe the grin off my face.

I reach over and take Cala’s hand, holding it tight. The air has a bite to it, crisp and chilly. The sharp scent of cold water and pine needles drifts in from the lake. The kids laugh as they poke around the shore, their voices mixing with the calls of geese overhead.

“It was,” she says softly. “But you make me feel brave. So… it was easier.” For a second, it seems like everything around us—the trees, the water, even the sky—has gone quiet to listen.

“You do the same for me,” I tell her. “When you’re around, I feel like I can face anything.”

Cala gives me a quick smile, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. The world feels smaller and cozier.

Cala breaks the silence, her voice gentle but steady. “I wasn’t mad,” she says, “just overwhelmed.” She takes a moment, her gaze lingering on the children playing by the water.

I turn to her, my concern evident. “Do you feel like I’m pressuring you?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she keeps her eyes fixed on the kids, as if their might offer her some guidance.

Finally, she speaks, her tone thoughtful and sincere. “No. If things were different, I wouldn’t even hesitate. But the truth is... I don’t think I could find another job that lets me take care of both my parents. If things between us didn’t work out…”

I squeeze her hand, wanting to reassure her. “I’d never let your family end up on the street, Cala. Even if we hated each other two years from now, I’d never do that to you.”

Cala lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head at the worry she’s voiced. “That’s such a dark future to picture.”