Page 81 of The Convict Gets His Girl

His hand trembled slightly as he covered her hand on his arm with his own.

"How were you able to afford the house?" Destini asked from the back seat.

"Destini!" Jewel scolded, but Chase just smiled and turned in the seat to stare at their daughter. He explained how he'd made money for others by offering investment strategies and how he'd earned his bachelor's degree while in prison.

"I'm working on getting my Certified Financial Advisor certification," Chase said, as if trying to prove he still had forward momentum. "But beyond that, my only other dream is to have a family of my own…" He trailed off, the unspoken weight of lost years and the promise of a future hanging between them.

Jewel squeezed his arm before releasing it, her touch gentle but firm. "You used to have so many dreams when we were kids. There has to be something else you want."

Chase's laugh was more a brittle exhale than genuine humor. "I've never even seen the ocean. How am I supposed to dream of anything more than that? I'm a simple man, Jewel. What you see is what you get." His voice was low and tinged with a vulnerability that made Jewel pause.

He was so much more than what he showed the world.

The words hung in the air—a confession, a challenge, a wound. His eyes were distant, looking past the NASA buildings, past the truck around them. Destini and Jewel both studied him—this man who had spent years confined, whose world had been reduced to concrete walls and iron bars. Dreams weren't luxuries in prison. They were dangerous things, fragile as glass, liable to shatter with the next harsh reality.

Chase lifted Jewel's hand and kissed the back of it, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. Not lost, exactly. Just… learning how to find himself again.

"Dreams aren't measured by how big they are," Destini said suddenly, her teenage bluntness cutting through the moment. "They're measured by how much they mean to you. I think having a family is a big dream worth dreaming."

Jewel smiled, proud of her daughter and sparkling with an idea. "I don't know if we're the right fit to be a family, but we can at least get you to the ocean. We're so doing that right now."

Destini whooped from the back seat as Jewel backed up the truck.

The drive was a blur of anticipation. Destini chattered from the backseat, pulling up beach information on her phone. "Do you know about coastal ecosystems and tide patterns?" She fired off rapid facts, and Jewel let her happy voice wash over her, restoring her soul to somewhat normalcy. Chase asked insightful questions, and her chest warmed to see them getting to know each other.

When they finally arrived, the beach stretched before them—not pristine, not picture-perfect, but real. Raw. Unfiltered.

Just like him.

ChapterThirty

The highway stretched before her like a pale ribbon, unraveling through the muted morning landscape. Jewel gripped the steering wheel, her fingers tracing the familiar leather where countless miles had worn smooth patches. In the passenger seat, Chase was folded awkwardly against the window, his long legs cramped, mouth slightly open in deep sleep.

Her mind drifted to the night before. Destini had been different—softer, more open. They'd talked for hours, the kind of late-night conversation she'd almost forgotten was possible between them. It reminded her of thunderstorm nights from years ago, when Destini would burrow into her bed, small and scared, seeking comfort in her mother's arms.

The memory was bittersweet. Those moments had been rare even then, Destini always more independent, more guarded than most children. But last night had felt like a breakthrough. Something had shifted between them, a delicate understanding forming like morning dew.

She smiled slightly, watching the first hints of sunrise paint the Texas landscape in watercolor hues of pink and gold. One conversation didn't fix everything with Destini, but it was a start.

She'd not felt such hope in months, not even when she'd moved back to Crimson Creek months ago. Then, her hope had been clouded with worry about Chase and Hunter and thewhose daughter is she anywayquestion.

Chase let out a soft grunt, readjusting his position. The couch at Liz and Joe's hadn't been kind to him—she had seen the imprint of the decorative throw pillow pressed into his cheek, his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle, when she'd woken him up that morning to get on the road. Despite the awkward sleeping arrangement, he looked peaceful.

The gas station appeared like a mirage, its fluorescent lights cutting through the soft morning light. Jewel pulled in, the truck's tires crunching over gravel.

Chase stirred, blinking groggily. "Coffee," he mumbled, more statement than request.

She chuckled. "Absolutely."

Inside, while pouring two large black coffees, Chase stretched and rubbed his eyes. "I had a dream about NASA. I was trapped in a spaceship, but Destini wouldn't open the door."

Jewel snorted as she grabbed water. "That's putting a lot of pressure on her to save you from whatever. She's just a kid, Chase."

His shoulders hunched and he winced. "I know. Do you think she's seriously considering moving into the house? Are you?"

She'd wondered how long it'd take him to bring it up. She found the more natural snacks—cheese, grapes, an apple, and a banana—while he stirred sugar into his coffees.

"I think she's considering it."

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