Page 107 of The Convict Gets His Girl

When Taylor joined Hunter on stage, the vows began, and the music fell silent. He sat at the drum set, staring at Jewel instead of the happy couple.

Something passed between them in that moment—a silent promise, electric and unspoken. Jewel's eyes widened, pupils dilating with an emotion he couldn't quite read. Did she still fear a relationship? Or was that anticipation or longing?

When the bride and groom sealed their vows with a kiss, the crowd cheered. He and his brothers started another song, and she turned, disappearing outside.

On autopilot, he played, some of his joy disappearing with her. His protective instincts were too high tonight, and he wanted to watch her. He couldn't protect her if he couldn't see her.

But his set wasn't done. Frustration built in his chest, a tight knot of wanting to follow her but being anchored to his responsibility. The second band would switch with them soon. He watched Hunter and Taylor dance and then talk with their parents. The way his mom's face lit up with excitement, the way she hugged them both… he wanted that. He pictured Jewel and he getting married, and his parents' faces beaming at them. Making his mom cry happy tears instead of the tears she wore in the courtroom.

When the second band relieved him, he grabbed two waters from the bar, having already drank his personal one beer limit, and went outside.

The barn's soft ambient light gave way to the cooler, darker exterior. Strings of industrial work lights hung between posts, casting a warm amber glow over the outdoor space. Oversized Jenga towers rose like precarious wooden sculptures. Lawn bowling lanes and cornhole boards stretched between hay bales, groups laughing and competing.

Burn barrels flickered, casting dancing shadows. People clustered around the fires, some wrapped in blankets against the evening's chill. The wedding's intimate energy spilled outside, transforming the barn's exterior into an extension of the celebration.

His stomach clenched, anxiety growing with every step he took without seeing her.

His scanning gaze landed on the Jenga table. There she was—radiant, animated, leaning forward with that concentration that made her eyebrows furrow slightly. Jewel's hand hovered over a wooden block, calculating her next move as Tasha talked with Nick beside her.

Goldie saw him step near, and he waited for Jewel's turn to end.

"So the judge is retiring," Goldie said, her professional tone cutting through the ambient noise. "We'll have to resubmit your licensing request. But honestly? I feel good about this. The new judge is supposed to work way faster."

Chase nodded, absorbing the information. Another bureaucratic hurdle. Another waiting game.

"I need the license so I can take Destini to school events."

"That'll help strengthen our case," Goldie said as she stepped up to take her turn. Jewel glanced at him but stepped aside, across from him to stand beside Nick and Parker.

Tasha slid into the space beside him, her eyes knowing. "When are you going to tell her?" The question was soft, meant only for him.

He sighed, watching Jewel laugh at something Nick was saying across the Jenga table. "Tell her what?"

"That you love her." Tasha's directness was both comforting and terrifying.

His throat felt tight. "What if she doesn't?—"

"Chase." Tasha's hand touched his arm. "You've been through hell. You've rebuilt yourself. Trust the process. Sometimes taking the chance is more important than guaranteeing the outcome."

The Jenga tower wobbled precariously.

Just like his heart.

A sudden weight landed on his shoulder—heavy, unexpected. Chase's muscles coiled, fists instinctively curling as he spun, one hand raising as the other pushed Tasha behind him. Prison reflexes never truly fade, no matter what anyone says.

But the hand raised in surrender was familiar and welcome. Shock had him dropping his fist, his spine straightening.

"Raultazar?" Chase's shock melted into pure joy. He yanked his old friend into a full bear hug, back slapping loud enough to make several heads turn. "Raultazar the Brave, well met!"

"My liege, I've finally found you at last."

Chase barked a laugh, drawing comfort from this man once more. "Fuck, it's good to see you."

"Motherfucker!" Raul laughed, returning the embrace with equal force. "Don't start that nerdy shit so fast. Didn't think I'd remember it after so many years."

They'd spent countless hours in prison playing Dungeons & Dragons, creating entire worlds between concrete walls. Raul had been more than just a cellmate—he'd been a lifeline during Chase's darkest moments.

Their reunion was a burst of pure, unrestrained happiness, loud and genuine, the kind of moment that made the past feel distant.

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