Page 106 of The Convict Gets His Girl

She laughed, and he spun her slowly around the dance floor, just enjoying the feel of her against him and the unrestrained joy on her face.

ChapterThirty-Nine

The bass thrummed through Chase's chest, vibrating against his costume as Jewel's hand slipped from his, their bodies separating from the dance floor's sweaty embrace. Barn lights glinted off her short police costume dress, casting soft shadows across her flushed cheeks.

"Water or something stronger?" he asked, catching her eye.

Jewel leaned against the makeshift bar, wood planks rough beneath her elbow. Her fingers traced the condensation on a nearby glass. "Vodka soda. Maybe two," she said with a rare mischievous grin. "I've literally had maybe five drinks in the entire past year. But tonight?" Her shoulders relaxed, tension melting. "Tonight feels different."

Chase watched her transformation, noting how her usual guardedness softened. He knew exactly why; Destini was moving in next weekend, a permanent marker of stability she'd craved for months.

"Big week coming up," he murmured, signaling the bartender.

"Huge," Jewel agreed. Her eyes sparkled with something between excitement and nervous anticipation. Chase recognized that look—the careful hope of someone who'd learned not to expect too much but was allowing herself to hope anyway.

"I can't believe she's finally coming home—and willingly! She's not kicking and screaming about it anymore." She chuckled.

The bartender slid two clear drinks across the weathered wooden surface along with a beer for him. Jewel took a deliberate sip, her hand slightly trembling—just enough that Chase noticed, but not enough to draw attention.

One moment of vulnerability. One moment of pure, unguarded possibility that triggered his protective instincts of her.

Chase lifted his beer, the amber liquid catching the soft barn lighting. "To coming home, finally where we all belong." His voice was a mixture of promise and quiet conviction.

Her eyes searched his, darting back and forth, reading something deeper than just the words. The unspoken history between them—years of waiting, struggling, supporting each other through impossible odds—hummed in that single moment.

Before she could respond, Hunter's signal caught Chase's peripheral vision. A quick hand gesture, a nod toward the stage where the band's rhythm shifted between songs.

"I've got to go play the drums for the wedding," Chase told her, his tone shifting to practical.

Jewel's face transformed, a brilliant light erupting across her features. "They finally asked you to play?" The question burst from her, equal parts surprise and pure, unadulterated joy.

Heat crept up his neck, a sudden flush of embarrassment and unexpected vulnerability. He grumbled, "Yeah," the single word caught between pride and self-consciousness. A soft, hidden part of him relaxed and unwound to get his hands on an instrument again. It was a piece of himself he'd thought he'd put aside years ago.

Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of understanding and triumph. "About damn time," she said, the words landing like a perfect punch—direct, celebratory, absolutely certain that he would do great on stage and proud of him at the same time.

Chase understood what she meant. It wasn't only about the drums. It was about everything—finding redemption, regaining the pieces of himself he had given up, and proving himself to all those who doubted him. His mom's words echoed in his mind though, reminding him to do things for himself and not for others.

The band's rhythm pulsed behind him, a heartbeat of possibility. And for the first time in years, Chase felt something he'd almost forgotten—hope, rising slow and steady, like a tide finally turning in his favor.

"Wait for me?"

She nodded, her eyes flashing with hidden emotions that she still refused to admit. He'd wait, though. He'd waited this long, and he wouldn't give up now.

He swallowed his beer hard, the bitter liquid catching in his throat as he made his way to the stage. Each step felt like reclaiming something stolen—muscle memory flooding back, hands remembering the rhythm that once defined him before life got complicated.

The drums waited, familiar and unchanged.

Hunter caught his eye, a silent nod of understanding. They'd been here before, back in high school, before Chase dropped out of the band to double up on classes and Hunter had graduated. Before he'd fallen for Jewel, before the accident, before prison.

His fingers brushed the drumstick as Hunter handed them over and hopped down from the stage. He sat on the stool, and suddenly he was seventeen again. Potential unlimited. Dreams intact.

But he wasn't seventeen anymore. Each movement was deliberate now, carefully calculated to make those dreams a reality. The biggest dream of all? Jewel and Destini as an actual family.

The first beat hit like a declaration. His other brothers moved around him on stage, creating a musical landscape that felt like home. They'd done this countless times in this old barn growing up, practicing playing for church. This wasn't just playing, though. It was redemption.

When the wedding ceremony began, the music shifted to something softer. Chase watched the girls dance down the makeshift barn aisle, his rhythm steady, supporting their movement with each beat.

His eyes naturally found Jewel. She stood out in a crowd, and he knew he'd find her every time.

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