Page 53 of The Convict Gets His Girl

It wasn't a permanent option, he knew that, yet for the first time in a year, he felt ready for more space. It was strange going from a jail cell to all this room in this one-room cabin. But he might be ready for more, finally.

He moved into the cabin, around her as she stood behind the couch and to the bathroom. He set a towel on the counter, then went back around the bed, pulling a t-shirt out of the dresser. He tossed it on the bed and waved.

"Shower's yours first. I'll whip up something to eat, if you're hungry."

She dropped her bag, her footsteps heavier than normal as she grabbed the t-shirt and closed the bathroom door behind her. When the water turned on, he sighed and ran his hand on the back of his neck as he strode to the fridge.

He winced as he opened it, almost bare. He'd been waiting to go to the store this week, had even missed his therapy appointment because he'd buried himself in his work to avoid thinking about Jewel.

And here she was.

He needed to feed her. His eyes refocused on the contents inside, then opened the freezer to reveal some freezer meals. He pulled out two and popped the cold cardboard onto the counter. The microwave hummed, a mechanical soundtrack that soothed the rawness of the day.

When Jewel emerged from the bathroom, something caught in his throat. Her hair was damp, curling at the edges. His shirt hung loose on her frame, a territory marker of intimacy neither of them would name.

"Wasn't sure if you were hungry," he said, gesturing to the pot pies. "I don't have a lot of options, as I missed my grocery run this week, but you're welcome to whatever I have."

Her eyes—usually sharp, professional—were softer now, vulnerable. She walked toward the table, each step deliberate. Her long, toned legs drew his gaze, and something primal stirred inside him.

Chase sat, stabbing his fork into the steaming pot pie. The crust broke with a satisfying crack. He barely tasted it, mechanical motions of survival.

"Are you worried about your mom?" Jewel asked. Her voice was low, careful not to push.

His throat tightened. A physical reaction to an emotion he couldn't quite process. He nodded, unable to speak. The food turned to ash in his mouth. Each swallow was an effort, like pushing through thick mud.

Her eyes tracked his movement. Professional. Compassionate. But there was something else underneath—a shared understanding of pain, of loss.

He finished eating, the plate half-full. His body felt heavy, weighted with the day's trauma.

She took her first careful bite, and Chase stood, his voice rough and graveled. "I'm going to take a shower now."

The words hung between them—a statement, a retreat, a moment of vulnerability barely contained.

The shower's hot water hit his skin, steaming away the day's grime. Blood. Hay. Vomit. Each splash brought a memory: his mother's pale face in the ambulance, the lifeless mare and foal, Jewel and Hunter's hands clasped together as emergency lights flashed.

Tears came suddenly, violently.

His knees buckled, and he sank to the shower floor. Harsh, gut-wrenching sobs tore through him. The sound echoed off ceramic tiles, a raw, primal expression of grief. He hugged his knees, trying to make himself smaller, to contain the overwhelming pain.

Failure wrapped around him like the water, suffocating, relentless. The horse. The foal. His mother. All lost. All beyond his ability to save.

The shower door opened.

Jewel's presence filled the small space before her arms wrapped around him. Her touch was familiar, but she'd comforted Hunter this way too, when they'd kneeled by Clio's body. He couldn't read anything into it, couldn't parse meaning. Could only feel.

She didn't speak but simply held him. Her body warm against his, her breath matching the rhythm of his broken sobs, they cried together, releasing their shared pain and loss until the water turned cold.

When the tears subsided, something shifted. Vulnerability gave way to something lighter. He hiccupped, and she giggled. He growled, "It's not funny."

But the last syllable ended with another hiccup, which sent her into a laughing fit.

He elbowed her, and she rocked back away from the cold water that splashed on them, her eyes twinkling as she wiggled her eyebrows.

"Looks like the cold water's doing wonders for your monster," Jewel teased, a hint of her usual sharpness returning. "Pretty sure it's shrunk to the size of a worm."

Chase barked a raw, unexpected laugh. "Around you? I could go polar plunging and still get a hard-on."

She sucked in a breath and her nipples pebbled in the cool air, the cold water splashing on the shower floor in front of them.

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