The Size of Texas – Part 1

Hey everyone!
This one picks up after Redefining Dallas, so make sure you've read that one first. I hope you enjoy the first part!

Since many of you liked The Team’s Slut , I’ve decided to write one more part from Aruba—but I probably won’t have time to get to it until next week. Hope you all have a great week! :)

Everyone in this story is 18+

Texas rolled through slowly, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on Hayes’s thigh. Ashlee sat beside me in the back seat, legs crossed, sunglasses oversized, and completely immersed in her phone. I just stared out the window, watching the Westlake hills unfold into money and manicured lawns.

The ranch was nothing like I remembered.

It wasn’t even a ranch anymore. Not really. The front yard had been re-sodded, the house expanded with gleaming white siding and black trim, and the driveway curved toward what looked like a three-car garage and a guest house. Solar panels. A basketball court. A pool glinting behind the hedges.

Texas parked under the carport. Ashlee was already out, taking a panoramic shot of the house like she was about to list it on Zillow.

Hayes grabbed bags from the trunk like it was nothing. I took mine slower.

Antonia met us on the porch, arms crossed. “Welcome to the Eden Compound. Try not to ruin the grout.”

Austin stood behind her, barefoot, tank top and mason jar in hand, looking like a bisexual poster boy for summer. He didn’t wave, but he smiled.

From across the street, a couple strolled past with a baby stroller. Picture-perfect: toned, tanned, casual. The woman wore designer athleisure. The guy had that effortlessly hot ex-frat body — shaved sides, fitted tee, tattoos barely peeking out under one sleeve.

He raised a hand. “Evening.”

Austin waved back with two fingers, biting back a smile sipping from his jar and looked innocent.

“Home sweet home,” Texas said, grinning at me.

Ashlee pulled out her compact. “I didn’t expect it to be this nice. I feel like I need to post this.”

Antonia stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, hair up, tank top, cutoff shorts, and absolutely zero patience. Austin lounged behind her, barefoot, drinking something orange out of a mason jar and wearing a tank that said Y’all Means All.

Antonia grinned. "I’m not even sure where Mom and Dad are right now.”

Austin grinned. “Last I heard? Christian guns & oil convention.”

Ashlee blinked. “Is that, like... a real thing?”

Antonia deadpanned. “Babe. He’s joking. Probably. Okay, maybe not. This is Texas.”

Hayes grabbed two bags from the trunk like it was nothing. I grabbed mine with slightly more effort.

Texas gestured toward the porch. “Alright, inside. Pool’s full. Fridge is stocked. And I think Austin threatened to cook tonight.”

“I’m making tacos,” Austin said proudly. “With, like... real ingredients.”

Ashlee clapped once. “This is gonna be the best summer ever.”

I had a weird feeling in my stomach. Not from the heat.

Something about this place felt too perfect. Like it was waiting for something to happen.

And if I knew anything about my life lately, it was this:

Something always happened.

◆◆◆

Dinner had been… nice. Surprisingly so.

Austin actually pulled off the tacos. Antonia didn’t insult anyone to their face. Hayes kept Texas smiling, and even Ashlee stayed engaged between selfies and sips of wine.

Could it be because Mom and Dad weren’t here?

I volunteered to take out the trash.

The night air hit different in Westlake — still warm, but quieter. The sky above was wide and sharp with stars, and the property stretched long and private.

The guest house lights were on.

I crossed toward the bins, pausing when I heard a sound. Something… wet and some moans accompanying it.

I looked toward the open window. And froze.

Austin was on his knees. Shirtless. Hands gripping someone’s waist. His mouth working with slow, confident rhythm.

The guy — The same daddy they had greet earlier, tan, buzzed, gold chain and a chest tattoo — let his head fall back as Austin went to work.

I blinked and turned back fast, nearly tripping over the trash bag. I didn’t say a word.

Back inside, Ashlee was already in bed. Legs crossed, phone glowing.

I got in next to her, reached for her waist.

She shifted. “Not tonight, babe. I’m tired.”

I nodded, staring up at the ceiling. Then noticed her screen.Troy’s Instagram. One of his thirst traps — shirtless, sweaty, probably “accidentally” flexing.

I rolled onto my back and sighed.

I wondered how this summer was going to go. But hey. At least Ayden didn’t come.