Page 76 of The Convict Gets His Girl

"When… when were you going to tell me?" Destini's question was directed at Jewel, her tone a mix of accusation and hurt.

Chase cleared his throat, stepping in to say, "We were just eating brunch to plan our trip to see you this weekend, but I didn't want to just show up on your doorstep with no time to prepare."

Destini looked at him, calculating and watchful. "This weekend?"

"If that works for you," Chase said carefully. His fingers drummed a staccato rhythm against his leg—another telltale sign of nerves. "I'd really love to meet you, and I've lost so much time with you already…"

Destini's eyes narrowed even as she blinked rapidly. "You mean, like… you want to get to know me? You'd both come down here together?"

Chase's throat tried to close, so he took another drink before replying. "Yeah, I want to know everything about you."

The silence was heavy between them, and Destini glanced to the side at something in the cafeteria. The cafeteria background noise seemed to fade, leaving only the electric tension of this unexpected conversation.

"I have debate club on Friday after school," Destini said finally, looking back at them both. "But Saturday is free."

Chase and Jewel exchanged a quick glance. Just like that. Simple. Direct.

"We can do Saturday," Jewel confirmed.

Destini's gaze flickered between them, and she opened her mouth just as the bell rang at school. She sighed, and looked at Chase once more, her gaze curious and guarded. "I—I'll see you both Saturday morning?"

Chase nodded, unable to say anything else as Destini looked at Jewel and said, "I gotta go. Love you, Mom. Bye."

She hung up before waiting for a response, her words rushed as if vulnerable from the conversation but still wanting to cling to her mom.

Jewel set the phone down, her hand trembling slightly. Chase watched her, seeing the mix of emotions playing across her face: relief, anxiety, hope.

"She said love you," Jewel whispered, almost to herself. "Even after that conversation."

Dot appeared with fresh drinks, her hand resting momentarily on Jewel's shoulder this time in a gesture of silent understanding.

"Well," Chase said, trying to sound casual and recover a normal voice instead of one shaking with emotion. "That went better than I expected."

Jewel laughed, a sharp sound that was half-sob. "Don't jinx it. You haven't actually met her in person yet."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her head to his chest, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. She breathed in deeply, tickling his neck, but he just held her.

"Yeah, but she didn't hang up or run screaming. Let's count it as a win."

Jewel pulled back and sighed as she rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Small victories, I guess."

The morning sunlight continued to stream across their table, dust dancing between them like tiny, fragile possibilities. Outside the diner's window, Main Street hummed with its usual quiet activity, completely unaware of the momentous morning. He'd finally met his daughter, sort of. He just hoped the first in-person meeting went just as well.

A few days later, they pulled up to a townhome on the outskirts of Houston in Jewel's truck. Chase hopped out and stretched, his nerves running rampant. He had gotten no studying for his CFA test done the past few days, instead choosing to pour himself into manual labor on the ranch—all while avoiding his parents. He simply couldn't face them, knowing they'd have questions on how he and Jewel had made Destini.

He shut the truck door and faced his future.

Potted plants lined the walkway, and two bicycles leaned against the garage. Chase's hands shook slightly as he smoothed his pearl-snap shirt, acutely aware that everything hinged on the next few moments.

Jewel came around the truck, her hand finding his and squeezing. "Breathe," she whispered. "Just be yourself."

Easier said than done. Being himself had gotten him into trouble most of his life.

Before they could walk to the door, it opened. Destini stood framed in the doorway, looking exactly like their video call but more solid, more real. She wore black jeans and a NASA hoodie, her hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, a riot of blond curls. Her eyes—those were definitely Chase's eyes—scanned them both with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

"Hi," she said, her tone neutral. "You're early."

Chase swallowed and shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't ask for a hug. "I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible."

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