Page 32 of The Tex Hex (Bitches With Stitches #3)

MANDY

Tex drops into the booth across from me, still dressed in his Hooters shorts.

The button pinned to his tight shirt reads “Ranch Daddy” in orange glitter.

His hair’s a little messy from the dinner rush, and he smells like fryer oil and cologne, but somehow, he still manages to look like something out of a dream I wouldn’t dare confess to anyone but him.

I slide the basket of wings toward him and raise my brow. “Extra hot, just like you.”

He grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He pulls off his visor, drops it on the seat beside him, and leans back like the world’s pressing in on him from all sides. I’ve seen this look before. Usually right before he tries to talk himself out of doing something hard.

“You okay?” I ask gently.

Tex grabs a wing and stares at it like it might offer divine wisdom. “Got a message from my mom today,” he says after a beat. “She said my dad's birthday is coming up. Big family thing. Cookout. Brothers’ll be there. Cousins. All of ‘em.”

I nod and wait for him to continue.

“She said it’d mean something if I showed. It’s been two years.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. But I know him. I recognize the way his leg bounces under the table. I know what it means when he won’t meet my eyes.

“And you want to go?” I ask.

He shrugs again. “I don’t know. I want to... and I don’t. I want to show them I’m not a fuckup anymore. But I also want to spare myself the looks, the questions, the—” He waves a hand. “All of it.”

“You want to go,” I say softly, “but you’re scared.”

His eyes flick to mine. “A little.”

I reach across the table and set my hand on top of his. “You don’t have to go alone.”

Tex blinks, confused. “I wasn’t gonna drag you into all that.”

“You’re not dragging me. I want to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re strong, Tex. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I want to be there when you remind them who the hell you are now. I want them to see what I see.”

He stares at me for a long time, eyes glassy like he might argue, but he doesn’t.

“You really think I’m strong?”

I nod. “You survived things that would’ve killed most men. And not only did you survive, you came back better. Kinder. You’ve worked your ass off to heal. That’s not weakness, Tex. That’s what strength actually looks like.”

He swallows hard and gives a shaky laugh. “Shit. You’re gonna make me cry in this damn uniform.”

I squeeze his hand. “I’ll still respect you. Even if you make the wings all soggy with your tears. Think of it this way,” I add with a grin, “If you bring me, they’ll be talking about my face instead of your record.”

Tex chucks an onion ring at me like a fried Frisbee. “You’re not funny. They’ll be talking about us , not you, not me. I’ve never brought anyone home before.”

“Have you come out to them?”

Tex snorts, his smile returning. “Kinda hard to miss, don’tcha think?” He gestures at his uniform, his sparkly shadow, and glossy lips.

He’s right, he’s kinda hard to mistake for anything but fabulous. That damn laugh of his. The way he wears eyeliner like armor and glitter like defiance. He makes the world feel louder and softer at the same time.

The fuck are they gonna make of me? The brooding scarred giant who wears his past on his face, trying to reach above himself for some gorgeous sparkly guy like Tex.

I tilt my head. “So, what are we walking into?”

“My brothers are going to give you the third degree, of course, and my mom will feed you. My dad, he’s quiet. He never says what he’s thinking, but his expression says it all. We’re not that close.”

I nod slowly. “You still want to go?”

Tex meets my gaze. “Yeah. I need to. And I want them to see you.”

“Me?” I blink.

“You,” he says firmly. “Because you’re the one I kept pretending I’d never find. And now I did. They should know that.”

My chest tightens. I push my foot under the table and nudge his ankle with mine. “Then I’ll be there. We’ll go together. You don’t have to prove anything alone.”

He gives a little nod, the onion ring forgotten. “Thanks, Mandy.”

I smile, letting my thumb brush along the back of his knuckles. “You never have to thank me for loving you.” He said those words to me not long ago, and now he’s getting them back.

Tex swallows hard. Then, quietly, “I’m gonna need you to say that again… maybe not here though. Or I really will start crying into my wings.” He fans his eyes like his eyeliner will run if he tears up.

“Deal,” I whisper. “Later. But it’s true.”

Tex looks at me like I hung the damn moon, and I know—this trip, this visit—it’s not just about facing the past. It’s about walking forward into something new. Together. I’m as scared as he is, maybe more, but if Tex can do it, so can I. For him. I can do anything for him.

Tex gets quiet. Not the good kind of quiet, where he’s chewing and happy.

The kind where he disappears behind his eyes.

I let the silence stretch, not wanting to spook him.

When he finally pulls out his phone, I stay still.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just swipes a few times, brows furrowed. Then he turns the screen toward me.

It’s an old picture, scanned from a print, maybe. A teenage version of Tex, standing ramrod straight in oversized fatigues, beside a tall man with a thick mustache and arms like tree trunks. The man's hand rests on Tex’s shoulder. Tex looks… off. Like he’s wearing someone else’s face.

“My dad gave me that the day I left for basic,” Tex says, voice low. “Told me to remember where I came from.”

I study the photo again. The porch. The hard-set jaw on that man. The fear just beneath young Tex’s bravado.

“You look scared,” I say softly.

“I was,” he admits. “But I pretended I wasn’t. For him and for me.”

Pushing the onion rings aside, I reach across the table and take his hand.

“I keep that photo in a folder I try not to open. Sometimes I look at it when I feel like I haven’t come far enough. Like I’m still that kid just trying to earn a scrap of approval.”

“But you’re not that kid anymore.”

Tex swallows hard, eyes on the table. “I’m still scared to go back. Scared they won’t see the changes. Or worse… that they will, and they’ll hate me for them.”

“Nobody co—” I choke, the words stuck in my throat. Swallowing past the lump, I try again. “Nobody could hate you, Dynamite. You’re… You’re…”

Beautiful. Shiny. Extraordinary.

“Explosive?” he asks, laughing.

“Yeah, that. I told you, you made my heart go boom .”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Goddamn. What did I do to deserve you?”

“I ask myself the same thing about you.”

There’s no game on tonight, so the restaurant's sound system fills the silence with music instead. Classic country, of course. The first strum of a familiar guitar hits the airwaves, and before the lyrics even kick in, Tex drops his last onion ring and sucks his greasy fingers.

He grins that hundred-watt smile I’m powerless against. “They’re playing my song!”

Sure enough, George Strait starts crooning about how all his exes live in Texas, and the smile slips from my face. A feeling of quiet doom sinks into my stomach.

“So,” I say, trying for casual, “is it true? Do all your exes live in Texas? How many of them am I gonna run into?”

Tex’s eyes flick down to the condensation pooling on the side of his soda glass. He hesitates, face twisting tight.

“There was this guy,” he says finally. “Bo. We were inseparable until high school. Best friends. Real tight. He stopped talking to me after rumors started circulating about me and one of the older boys. Just dropped me like I was poison.”

I nod, jaw tightening. I hate that version of the story. The one where people he loved made him feel like a disease.

“You think he’ll be around?”

He shrugs. “It’s a small town. Everyone always is.”

I pick at the paper wrapping of my straw, giving him a second to keep going. When he doesn’t, I ask gently, “You want to see him?”

Tex’s voice drops to something quieter, something stripped of all that usual sass. “I don’t know. Maybe just to prove I’m not that kid anymore.”

“You’re not,” I say, no hesitation. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

“I kind of want to, though,” he says after a beat. “Not for him. For me.”

My chest pinches with something tender. “Then I’ll be right there with you.”

He finally glances up, eyes shining just a little too bright. He reaches across the table and touches his fingers to mine. “You’re already making it easier.”

I squeeze his hand. “That’s the idea.”