Page 47 of The Convict Gets His Girl

The questions were a demand, not a request. Jewel recognized the steel in her daughter's voice—it was her own determination reflected at her, a mirror of ambition and unresolved complexity.

Her throat dried. Explaining would mean unraveling a story she had kept tightly wound for almost sixteen years.

"His name is Chase," Jewel began, her voice low and controlled. She watched Destini carefully, gauging her reaction. "He's always been a genius, which is why he was always inside reading instead of running around the ranch with us. He skipped a grade and when we… started talking, our future goals actually lined up. He wanted to go to A&M too, escape the small-town life that was holding him back. He was an eleventh grader, and at Christmas, he said he was going to double up his classes and graduate a year early so he could join me in College Station."

"But he didn't go to A&M?" Destini asked.

Jewel's stomach twisted at the memories as she shook her head, wiping a tear from her cheek. "When I realized I was pregnant, I was going to go home during spring break my freshman year at A&M and tell him."

Her fingers traced an invisible pattern on the bed, Destini doing likewise on her jeans. The room felt smaller, the air thick with unspoken history.

"I was too scared, and it took me longer to process what was happening," Jewel continued, the admission hanging between them like a delicate, fragile thing. Her eyes drifted to the window, seeing something beyond the present moment. "By the time the semester was over, and I was ready to talk to both Chase and Hunter and figure it out, Chase was gone."

Destini frowned. "Gone? Like, he died?"

Jewel shook her head and took a deep breath, watching Destini carefully to see how she'd react. "No, he'd been in a car accident and was prosecuted for vehicular manslaughter under the influence. He had gone to prison."

Destini's breath caught audibly. Her body went rigid, tension coiling through her shoulders as her hands fisted on her knees. "How old was he?" The question burst out, sharp with sudden emotion. "He was still in high school?"

The accusation was implicit. The judgment clear.

Jewel met her daughter's eyes, seeing a swirl of emotions—confusion, anger, a desperate need to understand. She knew this moment was a fulcrum, a point where everything might pivot or break.

Her fingers twisted together, and her voice shook along with her hands. "He was tutoring someone so he could earn money for college," Jewel said, her voice growing distant. "Someone who… influenced him. His actions led to drunk driving and the accident." The words hung between them, loaded with unspoken implications.

Destini leaned forward, her hazel eyes—so like Chase's and Hunter's, though she didn't know it yet—narrowed with sudden intensity. "Did he go to the hospital? Why didn't you race back home and check on him?" The questions came out sharp, demanding, a knife's edge of emotion cutting through the room's heavy silence.

Jewel saw the mix of anger and vulnerability in her daughter's face. Her breath caught in her throat, waiting to see how this would change their relationship.

"Yes, but I didn't know." Jewel's fingers continued their nervous dance, intertwining and separating. "By the time Aunt Gemma told me about everything, he was already gone from the hospital to jail. So I didn't go home at the end of the semester. Instead, I took classes in the summer so I could take a half-semester off when I had you." The words slipped out like a confession, weighted with years of accumulated guilt.

Destini's glare hardened, transforming her teenage features into something razor-sharp and unforgiving. "You just… left him? Did you even call or write, explain about me?" The accusation vibrated between them, a physical thing with its own brutal energy.

For a moment, Jewel couldn't breathe as she shook her head no. Destini's tears rolled down her cheeks, but Jewel stayed on the bed, giving her time to process. Her jaw clenched just like Chase's used to when he was working through a complex problem.

"I never talked to him or Hunter, never told them about you. Until I moved back to Crimson Creek a few weeks ago. Now they both know about you and can't wait to meet you and figure out which one of them is your dad."

"I want to know," Destini announced suddenly, shooting to her feet, her voice hard and decisive. Her words were a line drawn in the sand between them, challenging Jewel to either support her or be left behind.

"I want to know who my father is first. The cowboy or the convict. How do we get it done? A lab or doctor's appointment? Are they available tomorrow? Tomorrow's a Saturday, so I don't know if?—"

"Yes, we can go tomorrow. I'll book an appointment at the lab for first thing in the morning. Hunter and Chase will go to the lab in Denton tomorrow if we ask—they've both been wanting to get this done for weeks," Jewel said, standing too but hesitating beside the bed.

Destini paused at the words, her eyes piercing with the weight of judgement.

Jewel took a deep breath and asked, "Do you hate me?"

Destini's brows rose as she immediately shook her head. "No, I don't hate you. Confused, mostly. I don't know what else. Hurt that you told them weeks ago but didn't tell me, your own daughter."

Jewel winced and rubbed the back of her sore neck. "I know, it was wrong of me. I—I didn't know how to admit it to you, but I promised them both you'd meet them at Thanksgiving, so we should get the results before then," she said softly.

Destini sank into her computer chair and nodded absently, spinning it to her desk. She picked up a pencil and slid a notebook closer as she fired up her laptop. "Alright."

Her words were short, clipped, creating a distance between them that made tears spill over Jewel's cheeks. She'd said she didn't hate her, but her actions said something else.

The weekend unfurled like a tattered flag, each moment stretched thin with unspoken tension. Saturday had started well, with Destini's foot tapping furiously while they waited at the lab for their appointment. She'd not even flinched when the blood had been drawn, her daughter's face hard, stoic, and such a Williams' look it was frightening.

Then she'd tried to lighten the mood with a shopping trip for back-to-school clothes before lunch. Destini had opened up with food but as they went home, Destini began to withdraw. She must've started thinking about the situation.

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