When we arrived with the pit early yesterday morning and saw the competition lined up, I was ready to drink tequila straight from the bottle. Diesel and Riley got the wood loaded and the pit to temperature as I prepared the meat. Some contestants have been smoking meat longer than I’ve been alive. They take it seriously and want to win just as much as I do. Learning there were close to thirty teams nearly gave me a heart attack.

Mom, Dad, Grandma, and I arrived before the sun rose this morning. After we parked, I added more hickory to the pit as my parents put up the canopy with chairs, so we didn’t bake in the sun. I brought a checklist with timelines for my team, and as soon as Kenzie saw it, she rolled her eyes. My cousins have been the best support system and have helped me so much, but not without complaint.

Dad gets up and stretches as Knox and Kane check the temperature of the food. Kenzie micromanages them, using her soon-to-be teacher skills, and it makes me chuckle.

“You okay?” Dad asks as I unlock my phone and check the time. I swear only ten minutes have passed since I last looked.

I shrug. “Yeah. I guess. As good as I’m gonna be until this is all over.”

“Honey, you’re gonna do fine. And even if you don’t win, I’m proud of you for trying. It’s hard to put yourself out there and allow people to judge and be critical of something you’re so passionate about,” he says, patting me on the back. “It smells delicious.”

“You wanna try the first cut when I pull it?” I lift my eyebrows, already knowing the answer to that question.

“Damn right,” he tells me.

I look around him, and Kenzie gives me a thumbs-up. We’re on track to having the juiciest brisket to date. If I don’t win, I will swear until my dying day the judging was rigged.

Dad walks back to his seat, and Elle comes up to me. “Almost ready?” She checks the time on her smartwatch. “We have about two hours before we have to pull the meat and deliver the plates to the judge’s area.”

“I know. Actually, only one hour so it can rest beforehand.” I bite my bottom lip, knowing that the juices will run out without adequate time to sit, making the meat dry. The last thing I want to do after smoking it for twenty-four hours is to ruin it at the end, and damn, it’s so easy to do.