I scooped up a second helping for him, and this time he proclaimed loudly to everyone how much he loved it. “This is the best pecan pie I’ve ever had,” he said. “Everyone should try it, or I might eat it all myself.”
I couldn’t help laugh at the outburst. “You gotta save room,” I told him.
“What for?”
Leaning in, I whispered. “My other dessert. Trust me, you’ll want room for this one.”
“Will I?” he asked. “Or will you need to make room for it?”
He had a point, and I would be saving room forthatdessert.
28. LORENZO
Jace never asked me many questions about my family, perhaps because I was always giving short answers about them. The type of answers that told people you didn’t want to speak about them, but as we wrangled the horses back to their stable after dinner, he brought them up again.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he prefaced, “so, if they’re horrible, then you don’t have to say, but maybe when we’re in Texas next year, I could meet them.”
His optimism was great, I loved that about him, how sunny and smiley he always was, even when he first approached me thinking I was homophobic and was going to try and steal his job right from under him—but I learned, there were better things to do under him, and I’d never stolen a thing. “They’re not the nicest,” I admitted, “and they’re not all that accepting. I wouldn’t want to put that on you. Meeting them isn’t one of the things I want to happen, not until we’ve made some solid ground in this relationship.”
“They can’t be that scary,” he said with a giggle. “They’re not gonna scare me off you.”
That was exactly where my worry lied. I didn’t think they’d do anything awful, but they wouldn’t be as welcoming as the Wilde family had been to me, and that would’ve definitely been seen as a snub to him. I just didn’t want him to feel their cold energy, and I didn’t know how to word that without making my folks sound like monsters.
“Eventually, in a couple years, maybe,” I said. “But they’ve never been in my adult life much, so I won’t be starting to bring them in anytime soon. Besides, they wouldn’t drive up to the livestock show anyway, even if it meant seeing me for the first time in years.”
Jace tackled me with a big hug, squeezing his arms around me. His Stetson almost went flying. I pushed it down on the back of his head, keeping it in place. He kept hold of me for a long while as the horses stopped around us, already chewing up the grass near our feet. Jace wasn’t one bit bothered by how close they’d got, but his face was pressed against my chest.
“I think I prefer your family more anyway,” I whispered, stroking his back. “But when we are in Texas, we will have to go meet a friend of mine.” The guy I’d been teaching to ride horses had made a full recovery, and he’d told me to stop feeling guilty, he was walking, but he was not going to be on the back of any horses, anytime soon.
“This is the first I’m hearing about a friend,” he said.
I’d been so closed off, I just assumed I’d have already spilled everything the moment Jace opened me up. “Yeah, the one who was in the accident,” I said.
“You might’ve mentioned them, actually.”
“Well, I’m sure you can meet them,” I said.
“How did he get into the accident?”
“Well, we can talk about that later.” I still felt like I was to blame for it. I was the one letting him practice riding some untamed horses, only because he’d wanted some practice for bull riding, and those sons a bitches could buck and bend like nobodies’ business. “We should get the horses in their stalls.” I gave him a kiss on the forehead.
It was the best Thanksgiving I’d experienced in a while. In fact, I didn’t have any fond memories of it. My folks weren’t big on the event, they came from Mexico and would often just have a big dinner, but there were no giving thanks, and definitely no turkey on the table.
I was born and raised in Texas, so for me it was strange to have all these holidays that I often didn’t celebrate growing up with my family. It was also probably one of the reasons Iwanted to be out of the house sooner rather than later—not to mention being gay and seeing all the Jesus paintings and crucifixes around the house, as well as my grandma who would shout scripture at me in Spanish.
The week following the holiday, I had been plagued with thoughts about all the things I’d missed out on because of them. I wondered how much my life would be different if I’d grown up somewhere else. I loved my Mexican heritage, the flavors, the colors, the language itself was beautiful, just the parents I were given.
It was the day we were heading into town for our small overnight vacation when I almost broke down in front of him. It wasn’t a full break, but a sit-down conversation where I told him I didn’t have a relationship with my family, and that I considered him my family now, for as long as he would have me.
“Forever,” he said, hugging me tight. “As long as you’ll have me.”
“Forever,” I repeated, a happy smile burned into my cheeks. “I like the sound of that. As long as you’re a good boy.”
“And as long as you’re a good Daddy.”
I chuckled. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it,” I said. “Dominant Daddy, now that has a ring to it.”
In my ear, he let out a slight whimper. “Yes, Daddy, what about that?”
