The Size of Texas – Part 3

Everyone in this story is 18+

I was still trying to unsee the bathroom incident when I glanced out the kitchen window.

That’s when I saw it.

An Escalade the size of a tank rolled into our driveway, dust trailing behind it like a biblical omen.

I stared.

“God save us all,” I muttered.

From the front, I heard the sound of boots on concrete and a door opening.

Antonia looked up from her coffee and sighed. “Great.”

Austin peeked through the blinds. “Double denim. Definitely Mom.”

Ayden sipped from his iced coffee and smiled like a man who had just pulled the pin on a grenade and handed it to someone else.

“Yoo-hoo! We’re home!”

Mom marched in like the floor was her runway. She barely made it three steps before opening her arms.

“My babies!”

She went for Antonia first. Giving her a quick once-over and a hug.

Then Austin got his hug, all cheek kisses and loud praise: “Still handsome as ever, my little heartbreaker!”

She pulled Texas in next, holding on just a second too long — like she was worried about him.

Then came me. A pat on the back, a polite squeeze. Not cold, but not warm either.

Only then did she clock Ayden

“Oh!” she said brightly. “Is this your special friend, Texas?”

Ayden smiled.

“Crop top and eyeliner too,” Mom added. “So… theatrical.”

Texas cleared his throat. “No, Mom. That’s not my boyfriend. This is my boyfriend.”

He walked over and put an arm around Hayes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Mom blinked. “Oh. That’s lovely. He looks almost—well, regular.”

Antonia didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, he’s just gay. Not a walking pride float.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Mom said quickly, flustered. “He just... well. Anyway. So lovely to meet you, Taylor.”

“Hayes,” Texas corrected.

“Of course, I remember.” She gave Hayes a limp handshake like he had just sneezed into it.

Then she turned to Ayden and Troy, blinking.

“And who are you two?”

Ashlee stepped forward, all sugar. “Mrs. Eden, this is Ayden, my brother. And his best friend, Troy.”

Mom perked up, visibly softening as her eyes hit Troy’s biceps. “That’s right! Austin and Antonia mentioned you. How lovely.”

She practically rolled her eyes at Ayden before glancing down at Ashlee’s glittery nails.

“My, those are… sparkly.”

Ashlee beamed. “Thanks! I can do yours too if you want.”

Mom stiffened. “No—I mean, that’s fine, dear.”

Then the door creaked again, and in came Dad, lugging suitcases like a man returning from war.

He set them down with a grunt, surveying the group.

“Looks like we’ve got a full house,” he said.

He shook Hayes’s hand a little too firmly.

Nodded once at Troy.

Offered Ayden a brief glance before pretending to focus on something else.

Then came the hugs — stiff for Texas, side-armed for Dallas, full-force for Antonia and Austin, and slightly too long for Ashlee.

“Good to see you, sweetheart,” Mom said. “Those shorts are very… daring.”

Ashlee smiled like a queen. “Thanks! They were on sale.”

◆◆◆

We were all gathered around the massive kitchen table, the centerpiece a vase full of plastic sunflowers and—new addition—a framed cross-stitch of the Confederate flag, proudly positioned beside a “Live, Laugh, Love” sign.

Texas passed a plate of bacon. Hayes held Texas’s hand and looked like he was holding his breath. Ayden was eating strawberries with the kind of eye contact that felt actionable. Troy had already devoured three muffins and was halfway through a pile of eggs.

“So, Troy,” Mom said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “You play sports?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, beaming. “College football. And I just lift shit.”

“Oh, how nice!” she cooed. “A good, strong boy. We could use more of those around here.”

Dad gave a rare grunt of approval, pouring more coffee. “Where’d you grow up, son?”

“California,” Troy said proudly. “But not like, weird L.A. California—like real California. You know, cows and weed.”

“Sounds great,” Dad said. “Real man’s state, back when it had backbone.”

Ayden cleared his throat. “So,” he said, voice all sugar and knives, “the names of your kids—what’s the story there?”

Mom perked up. “Oh, those were easy. We wanted proper Texan names.”

She smiled proudly, lifting her coffee.

“Texas was a given, of course. Strongest name there is. But originally, we were gonna name our firstborn Texas.”

She pointed her mug at me.

“But when Dallas came out, well… it just didn’t feel right. He looked more like a ‘Dallas.’ You know—sweet, thoughtful, maybe a little soft.”

I choked slightly on my orange juice.

“So we saved ‘Texas’ for the next boy. And when he came out—oh, we knew. That was our Texas boy. Strong from the start. Head full of hair, too. The nurses said he came out ready to wrestle.”

Texas smiled awkwardly. Hayes rubbed his knee under the table.

Austin leaned back, arms crossed. “I still think I got the best name. Austin from Austin? That’s a brand.”

“Yeah, a brand of chaos,” Texas muttered.

“And now Texas,” Mom sighed, turning back to him. “You were so strong. So proud. And now… well, this little sensitive phase—”

Texas raised an eyebrow. “Sensitive phase?”

“Oh, honey,” she rushed, “I just meant—God works in mysterious ways.”

Mom continued, unstoppable. “And then when I got pregnant again, the doctor said twins—two boys. I prayed and prayed. Was gonna name them Antonio and Austin. Proper Texan names.”

She tilted her head, smiling at Antonia.

“And then out comes this little surprise. A girl! But we kept the name. Antonia. I thought it was feminine but still rooted. You know—classy. Even if Antonio was kind of a degos name.”

“Okay,” Antonia said, standing. “Dialing the Aunt Karen energy back a notch—who wants croissants?”

Mom waved her off, oblivious. “Don’t be silly, hon. You know I don’t have a racist bone in my body, I love all Texans, including the degos like a good Christian should. And with the wall coming along nicely, we don’t have to worry about—”

Austin cut in, all cheer. “Anyway! So nice Ayden and Troy could come along. We can’t wait to spend summer here with you guys.”

He shot Ayden a smirk that could set fire to kindling.

Ayden smiled back, slow and sharp. “Thanks for the hospitality. I already feel so welcomed. I can’t wait for summer to begin.” He stretched just slightly in his seat. “Hope we won’t cause too much… mayhem.”

His foot found its way between my thighs under the table.

Toes. Light and deliberate.

Right on my junk.

I froze, fork halfway to my mouth.

Ayden didn’t look at me—he just reached for another strawberry, humming.

I shot up from my seat and grabbed my empty plate. “I’ll just, uh—get seconds.”

I fled to the kitchen like a man escaping a cult.

Shit.

What’s worse? That his damn toes felt good… or that I didn’t hate it like I should?