Page 36 of The Convict Gets His Girl

"What do I need?" Jewel asked, confusion making her pause at the counter.

After drinking his water, Henry set the glass down and said, "Someone who'll wait on you hand and foot. You're just like your mama in that regard, and Hunter is too much like me. Busy with his own problems and running that ranch. Don't know what you ever saw in him."

Surprise made her mouth off without thinking. "Maybe because he's always seen the real me, instead of a shadow of Mom," she retorted, knowing full well her words would hit a nerve.

Their relationship had always been strained, tied too closely to the memory of a woman neither could bring back. She winced, but didn't look away or back down. This was long overdue too.

Henry's eyes shuttered as if the mention of her mother was a blow he couldn't deflect. "Don't. It's not about?—"

"Isn't it though?" Jewel's voice rose, frustration lacing her tone. "You look at me, and all you see is her. It hurts, I get it. But I'm just… me."

"I know who you are," he grumbled before taking another drink. "You're my baby girl."

Her chest ached for the days when he'd call her that, shelter and protect her with his arms, when nothing could touch her because he was there to take care of it all.

Her jaw clenched. "Then why did you abandon me? After she died, everything changed between us."

Tonight was the first time they were alone without Gemma in years. She wasn't surprised it had all bubbled to the surface, but her heart rate sped up with each moment. He stared at her, his face slack from sleep, confusion, and resentment. It was late, but sleep was far from her mind now.

Henry set the empty glass in the sink and went back to the recliner. Of course, he was going to wait up for Gemma. She was his precious first born, the apple of his eye. Whereas Jewel was always second best.

As a mom, though, she knew there had to be more to it than what he was saying. If she and Destini were in this situation, how would she feel? She could finally move forward with a mature relationship with Hunter because she'd laid all the cards on the table. Maybe she needed to do that with her dad too.

"Help me understand," she finally said, voice tight as she followed him. "Why was it so easy for you to pack up and leave me in College Station alone? When Destini was born, you were there, and then poof—gone. Back to Crimson Creek without a second thought."

Henry leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together, elbows on his knees. The recliner squeaked faintly under his weight. "I did what I thought was best. We offered for you to come home, Jewel. Gemma and I, we wanted to help with the baby."

"Help?" Jewel scoffed, arms crossing over her chest defensively. "By making me feel like I had failed? By wanting me to drop everything and run back here like my dreams were nothing?"

"College Station was no place for a single mom," Henry shot back, his voice rising to match hers. "You could've gone to school in Denton, been close to home, but no. A&M was where you wanted to be. You were too good for us, too good for the help we wanted to give."

"Stop it," she seethed, shaking her head vehemently. "You don't get it."

Destini's words from earlier echoed in her head, and she took a deep breath to explain rationally. "It wasn't about being too good for anything. Your family was there, Dad. After she…" Her throat constricted around the words, but she pushed through. "After she was gone, you buried yourself in your work, in Gemma, in everything but me."

"Jewel, I?—"

"Down there, I wasn't just the girl who looked too much like the woman everyone missed. I was tired, Dad. Tired of being the ghost of someone else. Of being treated like shit here because I'm not her." Jewel's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her next breath shaky. "And they had stories of you as a kid, reminded me of when you'd hold me and loved me…"

Henry's expression faltered, his gruff exterior crumbling at the edges. "I—didn't know. I thought you just wanted to be stubborn, to prove something, to be away from me."

"Maybe I wanted to prove myself a bit," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But not to you. I needed to prove to myself that I was more than just an echo of a past I could barely remember and remind myself that you did, in fact, love me once upon a time."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with years of misunderstandings and pain. She stood there while he sat forward on the recliner unable to look at her, father and daughter, both adrift in a sea of regret and what-ifs.

The ticking of the clock drove her batty as she waited for him to process what she'd said. She didn't mind because she struggled to calm down too, her hands shaking at her side. She was afraid if she tried to move, her legs would buckle.

Henry stood up and strode to her in his socks. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and she realized with a start that he had aged in the years she'd been gone. He'd visited twice a year, but they'd never been alone or been this close.

He reached out tentatively, as if unsure his touch would be welcomed. But when Jewel didn't pull away, he drew her into a stiff, awkward embrace. The scent of tobacco flooded her, and she buried her head in his shirt at the comforting smell of her childhood.

"Jewel, I—I've never stopped loving you." His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry."

"Me too, Dad," she murmured against his shirt, clinging to the hope that maybe they could start to mend what had been broken for far too long.

ChapterThirteen

The gravel crunched underfoot as Chase shifted his weight, the darkness around him thick and palpable. He'd been leaning against the wooden post that marked the entrance to the ranch for what felt like an eternity when the familiar rumble of Jewel's truck finally cut through the silence. Headlights pierced the night, sweeping across the open space before dimming down as she pulled to a stop beside him.

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