Chapter 1 Alex

I hold the glistening pink flesh up to my mouth and take a bite, savoring it slowly as I let my tongue ripple across its texture. The taste is undeniably exquisite, but something is off. It should be soft and juicy, drippings bursting forward. Despite my best efforts, it’s barely moist.

“Damnit,” I groan out loud. This is the third batch of brisket I’ve smoked this week, and perfection keeps eluding me. There was a time that I could deliver a Michelin-quality meal hungover and still in my boxers, but those days are long gone. What am I missing?

The hot Texas sun bears down, casting long shadows over the clay landscape of my childhood home. In the distance, our pastures glisten in the summer haze, and I’m grateful for the shaded refuge of this patio awning. The buzz of cicadas crescendoes and diminishes like a beating heart, signaling that dusk will be on its way soon. Usually, I find the sound meditative, a nature-given lullaby that rocked me to sleep as a kid. Today, it just sounds like they’re taunting me.

“That bad, huh?” Mina walks out through the sliding glass door behind me and pushes her way into my sacred space, peering at the traitorous meat as she starts poking around the hood of the smoker. I level a death glare at my little sister and bat her prying hands away before they cause irreversible damage to my carefully cultivated barbeque ecosystem.

Maybe I could add a little more gochugaru to the marinade. Did I let the meat sit long enough? It was probably worth revisiting a baste approach rather than brushing the marinade on.

“Hey, guess who I saw at the hardware store this morning?” Mina swipes a Tecate from my mini-fridge and slumps into a camper chair, exhausted from a day of harvesting our new crops. Her dirty gloves fall out of the utility belt around her waist as she looks up at me expectantly.

Now I’m worried the issue might be the source itself – our ranch has long produced some of the finest Angus around, but this is the first herd that I’ve been responsible for. Maybe I’ve screwed something up, in which case there’s no way I’m going to solve this quality problem anytime soon. Also, I bet I need to upgrade that old gasket on the smoker, that could be the issue –

“Riley Flores!” Mina’s voice cuts through my runaway train of thoughts. “Talk about a blast from the past, right?”

The name stops me dead in my tracks. “Who?” My voice is hoarse with shock.

“Riley – weren’t you guys in school together? I don’t remember that much about her, aside from all of the middle school boys obsessing over how hot she was. Did you know her?”

I knew her, alright.

What was Riley doing back in town? I never thought I’d see her again – last I knew, she was in Los Angeles, living the successful life she’d always been destined for. Even when we were 18, I’d known the dreams she saw for herself wouldn’t be possible if I was by her side, holding her back. All the adults in town had known it, too.

“Earth to Alex?” Mina snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Don’t tell me you’re obsessing over the stupid brisket again. How about giving yourself a break from this twisted self-punishment ritual, huh?”

I snap back to the present, keeping my gaze fixed firmly in front of me as I start scraping ashes and washing down the machine with a warm, damp cloth. No matter which kitchen I’d worked in over the years, mise en place cleaning always grounded me after nights of high-paced chaos and stress. There’s nothing like a gleaming clean space to help you forget the mess that existed there just moments ago.

“It’s not punishment . I just feel like this is something I should be able to nail. A Texas staple that we grew up with? It’s an embarrassment that I haven’t been able to get it right,” I say as I attack the scrubbing with more force than necessary.

Mina rolls her eyes and reaches for the aluminum foil. “Let’s be real, you’re not just trying to cook up any old brisket. I know you’re trying to put your chef-y spin on it, but honestly, all of these have seemed delicious to me. Can I take this up to Dad and Umma, if you’re going to let it go to waste?

I grab the foil back and shake my head vehemently. “No way. It’s not ready. You know how much of a beef snob Dad is, there’s no way I’m putting this in front of him.”

Mina fixes me with a look of exasperated concern. “Fine, at least let me take it home and incorporate it into some of my special dishes. You’ll save me all kinds of time.”

I’m familiar enough with my sister’s cooking skills to know that her “special dishes” will essentially amount to: brisket scrambled eggs, brisket between two slices of bread, and brisket mac and cheese. It’s probably for the best, though – if I have to look at my failed attempt any longer, it’s just going to serve as a reminder of how off my game I am these days.

“Go for it.” I sigh and pull on my trusty leather jacket, its black leather marbled and puckered in all of the right places. “But I’m headed to the store to pick up a new gasket. I have a good feeling that will make the difference.”

“Mmhmm, sure. Good luck with attempt number two hundred and eighty-three!”

I stomp toward my truck, Layla, cursing the barbeque gods under my breath. The broad oaks and cedars that dot our land shade my walk, and the satisfying crunch of earth under my boot calms me slightly. Some of these trees have been around as long as our ranch has – passed down through my dad’s family for generations.

I’ve always loved this place, but I’m not quite the same as all of those previous generations. I couldn’t wait to get away and figure out my own path. Who would have thought that all these years later I’d be back here, hoping this place can help me pick up the pieces and start over again?

As soon as I slide into Layla, I feel my muscles release even further. For years, I crammed my 6’2 frame into a tiny Kia Rio that let me zip into the most infeasible parking spots in downtown Manhattan. The valets always gave me shit for it, but at the time efficiency mattered to me more than anything. Nothing could stand in my way when it came to getting to the restaurant, and it never seemed like I had enough time to accomplish everything I wanted to. Since I came home and bought this beauty, however, I’ve realized how nice it is to truly stretch out and decompress.

As I steer down the gravel path, something else lifts my spirits. A handsome, wood-cut sign gleams brightly above the entrance, the scrawling cursive spelling out in capital letters: PARK RANCH.

Growing up around cowboys and ranchers as I did, you realize that a lot of them are hopeless romantics underneath those rough exteriors. My dad is no different. For my parents’ 40th anniversary, his grand gesture was to rebrand the family’s ranch with my mom’s maiden name.

“Here’s to a new family legacy,” he had beamed. “We have our Alex and Mina back home. We’re back to living together, working together. I know that we can bring the fresh perspectives you kids represent to grow this old place into something even greater.”

He glanced at my mom, periwinkle eyes shining. “Plus this means I can finally retire! I’ll be toasting y’all and wishing you godspeed from my comfy spot on the Laz-e-boy.”

I smile at the memory of my gentle, hardworking father finally getting to kick his boots up and enjoy some leisure. Working for the family business has been a welcome dose of stability during a time of upheaval, and it gives me a deep sense of pride to know that I’m carrying on the legacy my dad worked so hard for his whole life.

Still, it’s not quite where I thought I would be at this point in my life.

As I turn onto the dirt road that winds through our town, I trace the acres that shape this corner of Bandera: Hearthstone Ranch, the Gellars, Angel’s Farm.

And next up, Flores Ranch. The sight of their front gate starts a movie’s worth of vignettes running in my head. Riley’s crystal laugh pealing out as she runs out to meet me, her auburn ringlets bouncing in the wind. That time she pushed me into the mud after a shock thunderstorm, our clothes clinging to our bodies as we play-wrestled. Her soft hands gently caressing my face as she pulled me in closer.

I shake my head, clearing away any other memories threatening to interrupt my focus. Jared’s Hardware and Feed Supply comes up on my left, and I steer Layla into a spot so I can hop out.

Jared lifts a hand as I walk into the store. “All good, Alex?”

“All good.” Given the number of times I’ve aimlessly roamed the aisles here since returning back home, I suspect that Jared understands that things are not all good – but he’s a stoic class act and never pries or passes judgment, unlike the majority of people in this town.

I find the replacement parts I’m looking for, and my brain whirs again. Now that I’m here, maybe I should pick up a new damper too. And a new water pan? We’ve had the old smoker at home since before I was born and it’s a stubborn thing. While I’m no stranger to misbehaving appliances, the ones I’m used to working with were at least manufactured in the 21st century. Making some upgrades might be just the edge I need.

As I grab a few more parts, a text notification pings on my phone. It’s from my mom, a terse reminder. “Alex, don’t forget feed. -Umma.” She always signs her texts this way, as if she’s delegating tasks to an underling.

“Hey Jared, can I grab a big bag of that cattle feed as well?”

“You got it, boss.”

Supplies in hand, I step out and admire the way the golden hour light bathes the storefronts of our small main street into a picturesque postcard. The scent of saddle oil from the nearby leather shop mingles with the sticky sweet musk of nearby magnolias. I close my eyes and breathe it in, relishing the moment.

“Alex?”

And then, there she is. The setting sun is angled just behind her, so at first all I can see is that striking silhouette I would recognize anywhere. Her bright jade eyes are peering out at me from behind a furrowed brow, brown freckles dusting her velvety skin. I’m leveled by how gorgeous she is, the bright beauty I remember from 18 years ago only deepened now by an intoxicating self-assuredness – and generous curves.

Riley steps towards me and pauses. Every fiber of my body is on fire, wishing she would keep coming closer. Wishing that I could wrap her up in my arms and magic away the half-lifetime we’ve been apart from each other.

But there’s no way she would want that, not after how I left things. I shake my head, willing myself back into reality.

“So, then, it’s true. You’re back in town.” I throw a gruff nod in Riley’s direction and begin to heave the feed bag into Layla’s truckbed as my mind races.

Riley’s eyes widen in disbelief, presumably at how paltry my acknowledgment is, given everything that exists –or existed— between us. “Yes. It’s true. And you’re also… back at home?”

Giving Riley the full explanation for why I’m back in Bandera would be time-consuming and embarrassing. I can’t let her know that after all this time, and just when I thought I’d upended everyone’s predictions about me making it, it all came crashing down.

“I live here now. Helping my parents with the ranch.” I shrug, trying to appear casual as I share this news with one of the only people in my life who might understand the nuanced layers that live beneath those words. But that was years ago, with a Riley that exists only in my head. The one standing right in front of me – I barely know her.

“Ah.” She’s watching me with that open, earnest face again, and the wind tosses her curls in a way that makes me go momentarily weak. “Well, how have you been? I’d love to get –”

“Sorry.” I cut her off. “I’ve got to run these items back to our place. It’s pretty urgent. I don’t want to keep my mom waiting.”

Those striking eyes narrow even further. I catch in them glimpses of anger, confusion, and a deep pain that wounds me to my core. “Alex. Don’t you think –” Riley steps forward as I bolt out of the way.

I practically throw myself into the driver’s seat and start Layla’s ignition. Riley marches up to my window, brows furrowed. This time, there’s no mistaking her fury. I can’t stand being the source of her hurt, but it’s better this way. Better than letting any of the past rekindle and flame out once again.

I roll the window down, wincing at the proximity between our faces, our ragged breaths inches apart. She opens her rosebud mouth right as I foot the gas pedal and slide out of my spot, skirting just past Riley.

Leaning out the window, I take in one last sight of her. “Good to see you. Hope you enjoy your time in town.”

And for the second time in my life, I leave Riley Flores behind.