Page 136 of The Convict Gets His Girl

"What are you doing at a bonfire?" he whispered into the phone, his voice a mix of frustration and concern.

Destini's voice came back, soft but defensive. "The football kids were making fun of the soccer kids and calling us goodie two shoes. Said they'd invited us just because they knew none of us would show up. Well, we showed up alright." Her tone shifted, becoming more hesitant. "But it's not like I expected. The boys are passing out more than just joints now, and the older teens brought out a keg."

Chase closed his eyes, a rush of memories flooding back—parties just like this, the slow spiral that had nearly destroyed his own life. He could almost smell the bonfire smoke, hear the reckless laughter of teenagers who thought they were invincible.

"You shouldn't be there," he said, more to himself than to her as he jogged to the barn. The protectiveness rose in him—part father, part cautionary tale. He'd walked this path before, and knew exactly how quickly things could go wrong.

"I know, Dad, and I'm sorry, I just—can we talk about this later?"

"Alright, take care of your friends. I gotta go. I'll text when I'm close or call you back. But call me if anything happens!"

She agreed, and they hung up as he put the bridle on Gladys. He gently led her through the barn to the driveway, then swung up onto her bare back before racing into the night. It was just a few blocks down the hill to Parker's. He slowed as he came to the curve and called Raul, but there was no answer.

He raced through the deserted streets, everyone asleep this time of night in this quiet small town. He pulled up at Parker's and stopped Gladys at the back yard. He opened the gate and led Gladys through, dropping her bridle so she could roam the fenced in little back yard while he called Raul again.

Still no answer, so he texted and knocked on Raul's window.

Damn it, he didn't have time for this. He closed the gate behind him and stepped into the driveway to Raul's car. Sweat dripped down his neck. This was a bad idea, but Destini could get hurt or worse.

His hand was already reaching for the car keys, a quiet determination settling over him like armor. They lay where Raul always left them, in the door pocket. He started up the little beater car and turned on the lights.

Shit, there was only one headlight. Parker's sports car was in the garage, and he wouldn't dare touch his brother's precious baby without permission and a valid license. Raul's was his only option.

No matter. He had to get to Destini. He backed up and turned out of town.

The car's engine revved, gravel crunching beneath the tires as Chase tore down the dark country road. Each mile felt like a race against potential disaster, memories of his own teenage mistakes flickering like warning lights in his mind.

Red and blue lights suddenly erupted behind him, a siren piercing the night's quiet. Chase's stomach dropped.

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening.

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, and pulled over. The familiar feeling of dread settled in his chest—a cocktail of resentment, shame, and complicated history. In the rearview mirror, the patrol car approached, its spotlight cutting through the darkness.

Chase rolled down the window, forcing himself to look up as the officer shifted, the patrol headlights hitting the officer's face. Shock made him grip the steering wheel tighter as he met Gunner's gaze.

The disappointment and confusion in his brother's eyes was immediate, a look that felt like a punch to the gut. Years of unspoken tension hung between them.

"What are you doing?" Gunner's voice was sharp, immediate. "Did you get your license reinstated?"

The question hung in the air, loaded with implications. Chase felt every muscle in his body tense, years of past mistakes pressing down on him like a physical weight. One simple question—and a world of complicated history waiting to unpack itself.

Chase shook his head, a quick, defensive movement. Gunner crossed his arms, blocking the patrol car's headlights that cast long shadows between them.

"Why are you driving so fast?"

"Emergency," Chase growled.

Gunner's eyes narrowed. "In this part of the county? Try again."

"I'm telling the truth," Chase said, his teeth clenched.

"If it's an emergency, why didn't you call me?" Gunner's voice carried that familiar blend of frustration and concern—the same tone Chase had heard a thousand times growing up.

The words tumbled out before Chase could stop them. "Last time I asked you for a lift somewhere, you said no..." The memory of that night crashed over him—the night everything changed. The accident. The disappointment. The aftermath.

Gunner's voice caught, raw and uneven. "The night of the accident," he added, each word weighted with years of unresolved tension.

Chase nodded.

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