25. Oliver
Eliza carefully sets the steaming turkey down beside me. Its golden skin glistens under the dining room lights, and the aroma rising from it is mouthwatering, filling the room with a sense of anticipation and warmth.
To my right, Silas takes his seat, with Julian and Lauren nestled beside him. On my left, Cala sits quietly, followed by Emma, Mila, and Luca. Eliza places herself next to Lauren, while at the far end of the table, Killian presides over the gathering, his presence impossible to miss.
The table is overflowing with people, laughter, and conversation.
Hands reach across plates and bowls, passing around cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and the vegetarian dishes that Eliza prepared with evident care and affection.
The lively chatter and the clinking of utensils create a joyful din, making the occasion feel even more festive.
Once everyone has filled their plates, we turn to another cherished tradition: going around the table, each person taking a moment to share what they are thankful for. This ritual, simple but meaningful, draws us together and sets the tone for the meal ahead.
“I’m thankful for my family,” Silas says, pressing a kiss to Lauren’s forehead.
Lauren follows, smiling softly. “For our health,” she says, glancing at her husband. “Love and family.”
Silas pulls her closer, accidentally squishing Julian between them. He squeals, wriggling free. “I’m thankful I can still breathe!”
The whole table bursts out laughing.
My eyes shift to Killian.
“I’m thankful for the millions in my bank account,” he declares, raising his glass before downing it in one go.
Eliza laughs, shaking her head. “I’m thankful for this moment, for having the Walker family here,” she says, giving me a warm smile. I wink back.
“I’m thankful for second chances,” Luca adds, turning to Emma.
She smiles. “Me too.”
Then my gaze lands on Cala. I’m anxious to hear what she’ll say—it’s been a hard year for her, and I can’t imagine what’s running through her mind.
“I’m thankful to share a table with the Walkers,” she says, raising her glass. “For my parents and for new experiences.”
Everyone lifts their glasses and drinks.
I catch her eyes. “And I’m thankful to have you in my life.”
Our glasses clink.
My brothers’ wives let out a soft “aww,” while the men cheer and whistle.
“Mila,” I say, looking at my little niece. “Do you have something you’re thankful for?”
We all wait as she thinks hard, tiny hands wrapped around her plastic cup.
“I’m thankful for my toys,” she declares proudly, raising her cup like the rest of us.
The table melts into laughter and soft smiles.
“Uncle,” Julian pipes up, his small voice curious and sweet, “was the turkey from the farm?”
“No, buddy,” I say. “Cala got it from a neighbor who raises them.”
Julian turns toward Cala, studying her like he’s trying to figure out who this woman sitting beside me really is.
Lauren steps in, smiling. “Julian’s been learning where food comes from. Though sometimes, he doesn’t exactly approve.”
“That’s because you turned him into a vegetarian,” Silas mutters, stuffing another bite of turkey into his mouth.
Lauren shoots him a mock glare, then looks at me with a helpless smile and a shrug.
“If you want,” Cala says gently, turning to Julian, “we can go see the cows later.”
“Yes!” Julian cheers, his whole face lighting up. “And the horses too!”
“Deal.”
“Wipe the drool off your mouth,” Killian calls out from the other end of the table, wearing that devilish grin of his.
“Shut up, Kill,” I shoot back.
Throughout the rest of dinner, everyone’s talking—including Eliza, who’s happily sharing my most embarrassing stories. Like the time a cow shoved me into a mud puddle. Or when I ended up in the ER getting two stitches after fixing the horse fence.
Every now and then, I glance sideways at Cala. She’s laughing—loudly—at one of Emma’s jokes, or deep in conversation about her lapis lazuli necklace.
Watching her blend in so easily with my family does something to my chest. It makes me think about what I want for my future—especially the part that might include her.
By the time dessert comes around, we’re all stuffed. The kids are half-asleep in the living room, glued to the TV, and the adults are too full to move.
“Eli, we’re officially adopting you as our mother,” Killian says, rubbing his stomach dramatically, pretending he has a belly when everyone knows he spends hours in the gym.
His comment hits deeper than he realizes.
Our parents were never really there for us, and even now that there are grandkids in the picture, they only show up when it’s convenient.
The fact that we’re celebrating this day without them says it all.
Eliza laughs, dabbing her mouth with a white linen napkin. “Delighted to have you all,” she says warmly.
Eliza’s story has always been a lonely one. She lost her husband young and never had children.
Years went by, and no one ever filled that empty space. She has an older sister in Austin who visits once in a while, but besides that—no family.
So seeing her smile like this, surrounded by mine, feels right.
“Dad, dad, dad, dad…”
Julian’s little voice comes from the couch in the living room, limbs sprawled everywhere.
Silas pauses mid-sentence, staring at his son.
“Julian, can’t you see I’m talking?”
“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.”
I pause, searching Cala’s eyes. My words come out quietly, but with all the weight I feel.
“What I mean is... I need you to trust me.” I squeeze her hand a little tighter, grounding myself in her presence.
“You’re the reason I don’t have nightmares anymore—the reason I fall asleep wanting someone’s touch instead of dreading it.
” My voice trembles with honesty. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to find someone like you.
” My stupid voice cracks halfway through.
Cala leans in and presses a quick kiss to my lips.
When she starts to pull away, I catch her mouth again, claiming another kiss—deeper, slower, hungrier.
“That’s gross!”
We break into laughter against each other’s lips, but our hands stay locked—and I’m pretty sure our hearts do too.
By the end of the day, the women head upstairs, and the brothers stay behind in the living room.
The fireplace crackles softly, painting the walls in shades of orange and red.
The lights are dim. Each of us has a glass in hand—two on one couch, two on the other.
Astro sleeps peacefully at my feet.
Out of all my brothers, Luca’s usually the quiet one, so it doesn’t surprise me that he hasn’t said much all night. But now, “Should we start preparing for the wedding?” he asks, eyes locked on me.
I take a longer sip of whiskey than usual. The burn feels good.
All three of them are watching me, waiting for an answer.
“Did I rush you when you were with the Green sisters?”
“Yes,” Silas and Luca say in unison.
I shake my head and exhale, hiding a smile behind my glass.
“It’s not that simple.”
My gaze drifts toward the stairs, wishing I could just go up there—to her.
Killian leans forward, elbows on his knees, rolling the ice around in his glass.
“Whatever you decide to do, you’ve got our full support.”
“That’s right,” Silas adds. “But don’t take too long to decide. You don’t want to let her slip away. That’s the same advice you all gave me about Lauren, and I thank you for it every damn day.”
I nod, but inside, worry is gnawing at me.
“Lucien doesn’t know,” I admit quietly. “And she doesn’t want him to.”
“Why not?” asks Kill.
I sink further into the couch, feeling the weight of the conversation and everything it implies pressing down on me.
“The truth is, when it comes to Cala, Lucien struggles with serious issues, especially his overwhelming need for perfection. It’s not just a minor flaw; it’s a major part of his personality.
Because of this, he sees Cala—and by extension, anyone associated with her—as somehow inferior to us, as if they owe me something simply by existing.
I’ve done my best to change his perspective, to help him see things differently, but it hasn’t worked.
If he ever discovered what was going on between us, he would see it as an unforgivable betrayal.
In his eyes, it would cross a line that could never be repaired. ”
“Damn,” Killian mutters. “And here I thought you two were close.”
“We were,” I say. “But after the accident, everything changed and I don’t blame him. Still, there are new factors now… and I don’t know how much I’m willing to sacrifice just to keep him comfortable.”
“That’s bullshit,” Silas cuts in.
Luca shoots him a warning look.
“Sorry,” Silas says, then leans forward, locking eyes with Luca. “But it is. Tell me something, how many times have you been with a woman and actually thought she was the one?”
“One,” Luca answers. “Always Emma.”
Then Silas turns to me. “And you?”
“One,” I admit.
He nods once and sets his glass down on the coffee table.
“Then talk to Lucien. Tell him the truth, make it clear he doesn’t get to stand between you and her. If he can’t accept it, fine—he’s free to disagree. But you’re done denying yourself another damn day with her.”
I listen carefully.
We all do.
Because out of the four of us, Silas has always been the one who cuts through the noise—the one who makes hard choices every day without flinching.
And whether I want to admit it or not, there’s nothing like a brother’s advice.