Page 51 of The Convict Gets His Girl

The ambulance's taillights were fading down the long ranch road, carrying his mother to the hospital.

Hunter half-turned, his face ashen. "I should have been here," he muttered, more to himself than anyone.

Jewel's grip on his arm tightened. "This wasn't your fault," she said firmly. Her veterinary training was clear in her calm, measured tone—the same voice she used to soothe frightened animals.

Chase watched his brother, seeing the guilt etching lines around his eyes. Hunter had always been the responsible one, the heir apparent who'd stayed on the ranch while Chase had been the worst disappointment of them all.

"If you need to go with the ambulance, Chase and I can look after Clio. I can call Gemma to come out too," Jewel suggested, rubbing Hunter's arms as if trying to warm them.

Chase nodded, but they didn't see him. It was as if he'd never returned from prison, like he was a shadow on this ranch and not a real, living part of it. The idea settled in his soul like a missing puzzle piece. He wasn't welcome here, not really. It was time he found his own place, probably nearer town where he could ride a bicycle or take Gladys with him.

He turned away from them as bile made him burp, stepping into the barn. Trent looked up at him in the soft light of the barn, his worry making Chase's steps hasten.

"She's getting agitated again. Does Jewel have more medicine for her?"

Chase shrugged and nodded to the nearby hay. "She'll be back in a minute. For now, let's see if we can put some hay bales into the stall so she doesn't have a way to slam up against the walls."

Chase's chest was tight with emotion. Jewel had rejected him last weekend and now she was rubbing up on Hunter. It shouldn't hurt so much; he'd barely gotten to know her again.

He worked slowly and methodically, trying not to startle the horse or set his stomach roiling.

ChapterNineteen

A sob ripped through Chase as he stumbled down the aisle and burst through the barn doors into the night's cool embrace. Hunter and Jewel had kneeled in the stall like the most morbid nativity scene, their bodies curved around the lifeless mare and the still-born foal.

Hunter's arm wrapped around Jewel's shoulders, a gesture of comfort that struck Chase like a physical blow as she closed the mare's eyes, tears pouring down her cheeks.

The smell had hit him with an overwhelming intensity. The mixture of copper, the earthy scent of hay, the unmistakable stench of blood, and the lingering presence of death sent him racing out of the barn. It was the smell of loss, of tragedy, of the fragility of life in the face of nature's unforgiving power.

His stomach heaved as the door banged closed behind him. Jewel's head resting on Hunter's shoulder became a blurred image in his mind that triggered something deep and painful inside him.

The ground rushed up as he fell on his hands and knees.

Tears mixed with the taste of vomit in Chase's mouth as he violently released his emotions. The cool embrace of the night air against his skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating off of his body. Sweat dripped down his neck, his muscles tense and trembling.

The acrid taste of bile coated his tongue, his stomach muscles clenching in painful spasms. Hay chaff stuck to the sweat on his neck, clinging like the disastrous evening he couldn't shake.

Jewel's hand was warm against his back, steady and sure. She laid a cool, damp cloth onto his neck, tossing the hay to the side.

"Here," she said softly, her voice stripped of its usual sharp edges.

Chase wiped his mouth, unable to look at her. The cloth smelled of antiseptic and something herbal—lavender, maybe. His mind kept replaying the mare's last moments, her panicked eyes, the stillborn foal limp against the barn's wooden slats.

No shame penetrated his numbness. Just a hollowness that echoed through his bones.

When the dry heaves finally subsided, Jewel gripped his arms, helping him upright. Her movements were professional, practiced—the same way she'd handled countless injured animals, broken equipment, broken men. He couldn't read anything into her movements, not when she'd made her thoughts clear last weekend.

"Come on," she said, ducking under his arm. "I'll take you home."

Her truck's engine rumbled to life, a familiar mechanical heartbeat. Time passed in silence, the landscape blurring green and brown outside the windshield as the sun set. Chase stared straight ahead, feeling her occasional glance slide across his profile.

The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. Chase's throat felt raw, words gathering like stones.

"Your job sucks sometimes," he finally muttered, his voice rough and ragged.

Jewel snorted—a bitter, sharp sound that was more pain than humor. Her knuckles tightened slightly on the steering wheel, veins rising against her tanned skin. "Yep," she said, each word clipped and precise. "But the good days usually outweigh the bad ones."

Her eyes never left the dirt road, but Chase caught the subtle tension in her jaw. Something darker lurked beneath her words.

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