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“Hey, Mom. This is Kenzie Bishop. Her family owns the ranch. Kenzie, this is my mom, Patsy.”
“Hello, Patsy.” I hold out my hand, and she covers it with both of hers.
“So nice to meet you, honey, but you can call me Mom. I didn’t realize Grayson was bringing a girlfriend, but—”
“She’s just a friend,” he corrects.
“Oh.” Patsy gives a nod, but I’m not quite sure she believes him. “Apologies. I was just saying, I’m glad you’re here. There are some cousins here I don’t think you’ve met before, Grayson.”
He grins, but I can tell it’s forced. Leading us around to the picnic tables where people are eating, Patsy introduces me as Grayson’s friend, but I hear the inflection in her tone. If Grayson knows them, he offers a handshake or a hug, but he mostly stands quietly to the side.
When his mom gets pulled away, Grayson leans in close. His warmth brushes against me. “Sorry ’bout that. She’s almost as bad as Rose.”
I snort. “Oh, Grandma would’ve already known your whole life story and asked when the weddin’ was if I’d have brought you to an event like this. Trust me.”
“Grayson, we’ve missed you so much. Wish you’d move back home so we could see you more,” one of his aunts says, grabbing his attention. Though we’d just met, I already forgot her name.
“I know, but I love my life out in Eldorado too much to even consider it. Open land. No noise. Plus, the sunsets and stars. San Antonio ain’t got nothin’ like that.”
She nods in understanding and doesn’t push further. Fifteen minutes later, we’re finally done parading around.
Patsy puts her hand on each of our shoulders. “Please, y’all eat. We’ve got plenty of links, hot dogs, burgers, and even some grilled corn,” she tells us, then leads us there.
Grayson and I grab a plate, and that’s when I notice him tense. I assume the man in charge of the food is his stepfather. He gives a friendly wave, but that’s as far as it goes. We find an empty place to sit and eat.
“Nothin’ like Maize’s barbecue,” he says, taking a bite of dry sausage.
I try not to make a face but can’t help the snort that escapes me. The hamburgers are the same way. Grabbing the ketchup, I pour it all over and hope it makes it edible.
It doesn’t. “Shoulda warned ya. He loves to cook but sucks at it.” Grayson tries a bite of everything, then throws his plate away. I hand him mine too.
“Guess that means we’re spoiled on Maize’s cooking,” I admit.
“You’re right about that,” he tells me, watching a few of his cousins throwing a Frisbee. “Wanna play?”
“I suck at it,” I admit. “My college friends used to make fun of me for not being able to catch.”
“You can’t be that bad.”
I grin at his confident tone. “To be honest, I probably drank too much and couldn’t see straight. Probably why I liked to experiment so much in college, too.”
“Ahh, used to party a lot?” Grayson leads me over to the group of kids. An extra neon orange disk lay on the ground, and he picks it up, then hands it to me.
“Kinda, I utilized my wild days, especially when my friends and I would go to concerts. And if they were outdoors, someone always had a Frisbee.”
“Oh yeah, I remember those days. Lots of concerts and raves around here.” At first, he smiles, but then it fades. I wonder if it brings back memories of his ex.
I throw the disk right to him, and he catches it.
“Go long!” he shouts. I back up a few steps, nearly tripping over my feet. His whole face lights up when he laughs, something I haven’t seen since we arrived in town.
It goes over my head, then flips across the ground.
“You did that on purpose.” I playfully shake my head, then overthrow it to him too. “First one who misses, loses,” he says.
We go back and forth until we’re in a rhythm, and I think it's the best I’ve ever played. I throw the disc with all my strength, and Grayson can’t run fast enough to catch it.
“I win!” I squeal, somewhat shocked. Grayson gives me a high five, then puts his arm around my shoulder as we walk back to the crowd of people.
“I can’t believe I won,” I gloat. “Seriously. You didn’t let me, did you?”
“And give you braggin’ rights? No way,” he tells me with a laugh, then a clearing of a throat interrupts us. As we turn around, I watch the color drain from Grayson’s face.
My smile fades when I see her, and I feel sick to my stomach.
“What’re you doin’ here?” he asks the same question I’m wondering. I hear the roughness in his tone, or maybe it’s pain?
I immediately recognize her blond hair. She’s still beautiful with perfectly clear skin and a bright smile. If you told me she fell out of a magazine, I’d believe it. Her green eyes study him, and then a sly grin slides across her plump lips.
