Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
The dusty pickup truck rumbled to a stop, gravel crunching beneath worn tires. Jewel's hands remained gripped on the steering wheel, knuckles white despite the long journey being over. Houston sprawled around her—a concrete maze that felt both familiar and foreign after weeks of living in Crimson Creek.
Joe's two-story townhouse stood before her, warm light spilling from kitchen windows. Her mouth already watered for something savory—hoping for Liz's famous chicken enchiladas. She sipped her water to cut through her exhaustion, reminding herself this wasn't just another destination, but family.
"Finally made it," she muttered, more to herself than to the empty passenger seat.
Her daughter's backpack still sat where Destini had tossed it weeks ago, astronomy stickers peeling at the edges, a NASA patch barely clinging to the worn canvas. She'd left it there for a daily reminder of why she got up and went to work every day.
The front door flew open before she could fully exit the truck. Joe's lanky frame filled the doorway, a dishtowel slung over one shoulder.
"About time," he called out, a grin splitting his weathered face. "Thought you might've gotten lost somewhere between Crimson Creek and here."
Jewel managed a tired smile. "GPS is pretty reliable these days."
Cameron, Joe's freshman daughter, appeared behind Joe. "Mom says dinner's almost ready. Want to wash up?"
The mundane invitation felt like a lifeline—a moment of normalcy in their increasingly complicated world.
Destini pushed past them through the door, a whirlwind of teenage energy. "Mom, you made it! Finally, I have so much to tell you."
Jewel shut her door, tears pricking her eyes as she opened her arms. Destini slammed into her in a tight hug that knocked out her breath.
"Oh my, have you gotten taller in the past few weeks?" Jewel asked, making Destini laugh and pull back, beaming.
"Probably. I wish you were here for the beginning of school. You won't believe the classes I got this semester—AP Biology, and we're going to do this incredible unit on marine ecosystems?—"
The words tumbled out, rapid-fire and excited, but Jewel could barely hear past the guilt thundering in her ears. Three days. She'd missed her daughter's first days of tenth grade. Her chest tightened, a physical ache of maternal failure.
If Destini had her way, she'd miss this entire semester, if not more. Before Destini could take another breath, Jewel pulled her into a crushing hug. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there?—"
"Mom," Destini's voice was part exasperation, part affection. "I'm in tenth grade. It's not like I'm in kindergarten and want my mommy to throw a party on the first day of school. I took pictures for you and had a great day. That's all that matters."
The dismissal stung, but Jewel recognized her false bravado. Destini had always been more resilient than she let on, but she'd also embodied the fake it 'til you make it motto since she'd hit puberty.
She followed Destini inside as she continued to talk about her teachers.
Inside, the kitchen buzzed with familiar chaos. Liz stirred something on the stove, Joe leaned against the counter, and the two little kids ran around the counter and past them into the hall.
Jewel hugged Liz as she greeted her and tried to catch up on family gossip, but Destini remained a constant presence at her side, fingers flying across her phone's screen, periodically bumping against Jewel's hip—a silent declaration of proximity.
Jewel slid her hand around Destini's waist, realizing that she was now too tall to comfortably put her arm around her shoulders.
"So," Liz said, sliding a plate of enchiladas onto the table, "tell us about the move."
Jewel caught Destini's sideways glance, saw the tension brewing beneath her daughter's carefully composed expression. Jewel smiled at Liz and told them all about working with her dad, Joe's uncle, and Gemma, focusing on the good, funny stories of working at a smaller but thriving small town practice.
"Have you found a place to live yet?" Liz asked.
Jewel winced and swallowed her water before she shook her head. "No, not yet. We might end up in an apartment instead of a townhome like before or even a house."
"Huh," Joe said with a frown. "I figured there would be more houses available outside of the metroplex."
Jewel sighed. "There are, just not in my price range."
"The internship application is still pending," Destini blurted out, her fork stabbing at a piece of enchilada. "I haven't heard anything back yet."
Jewel nodded, recognizing her daughter's attempt to redirect the conversation. "I got an email confirming it was processed, so for now we'll just keep waiting. We could wait just as easily in Crimson Creek, if you're missing your mama and are ready to join me."
She'd tried to keep her voice hopeful and encouraging, but Destini scowled, her fork clattering to the plate.
"I don't see why we have to leave. Can't you just get a job at a new practice here? There are tons of veterinarian offices."
"The specialist doctor I need is in Dallas, remember?" Jewel asked softly, her stomach dropping with dread.
Destini crossed her arms. "But there are doctors in Houston too. Why do we have to uproot everything now?" Her voice rose, frustration bubbling over. "I thought our plan was for you to move back once I went to college. Why can't we just stick to the fucking plan?"
The kitchen went silent. Joe and Liz exchanged a quick glance. The other kids froze, forks suspended midair.
Jewel frowned. "Destini, language."
"Don't language me when you're the one changing everything, and I'm just trying to keep my head above water."
Destini pushed away from the table, her chair screeching across the floor. It rocked precariously in her wake as she stormed upstairs, footsteps thundering against the wooden stairs.
Jewel rubbed her forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache bloom behind her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to her family.
Frankie, their precocious ten-year-old, broke the silence. "She's been really moody this week," he offered, a mixture of explanation and apology.
Jewel stood, murmuring another apology to Joe and Liz. Her legs felt heavy, each step a deliberate movement toward the inevitable confrontation. They should've talked this out before she moved to Crimson Creek. She shouldn't have left the way she did.
The upstairs hallway stretched before her, lined with family photos and childhood artwork. The guest bedroom door was closed—a barrier both physical and emotional. Jewel knocked softly, then pushed the door open.
Destini was a whirlwind of motion, pacing from window to dresser, hands cutting through the air like she was conducting an invisible orchestra of frustration. Her hazel eyes—so like her father's, whichever one he was—blazed with a mixture of anger and hurt.
"I'm not a child anymore," Destini burst out before Jewel could speak, her hands still moving. "I can handle change. It just takes me a while to understand. Help me understand because I still don't know why we have to do this now."
Jewel sank onto the bed, feeling the soft comforter beneath her, her body aching from the long drive. The weight of years—of secrets, of decisions, of missed moments—pressed down on her shoulders. Her daughter's restless energy filled the room, electric and uncontainable.
"Destini," she said quietly, "I think it's time we talked about some very real-world things. You're right. You're not a child anymore. You're almost sixteen, and it might help you understand."
The pacing stopped. For a moment, only breathing filled the space between them.
Destini crossed her arms, her stance defensive, a mirror of teenage rebellion as she cocked a hip and faced Jewel. Her eyes narrowed, challenging. "Is this where you tell me all the things you promised to tell me when I get older?"
The words hung in the air, laden with years of unspoken conversations, of moments delayed and truths held back. Jewel felt the weight of each unsaid word, each postponed revelation.
She winced, a subtle movement that betrayed more vulnerability than she intended. "Something like that," she whispered.
A flicker of something—anticipation, fear—crossed Destini's face. Her arms remained crossed, but the rigid tension in her shoulders softened almost imperceptibly. She was listening now, truly listening, in a way she hadn't before.
Jewel recognized that look. It was the same look she'd had at Destini's age—hungry for truth, terrified of what that truth might reveal, but unable to look away.
The room seemed to contract, the space between mother and daughter suddenly charged with potential energy, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.
"Remember the infection I told you about a few months ago? It's called Lyme disease," Jewel began, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "For almost two years, I've been seeing doctor after doctor, trying to understand why my body felt like it was constantly betraying me."
Destini's defensive posture softened as her arms dropped, and she sat on her computer chair. "The migraines," she said, almost to herself. "And those long bubble baths you'd take when you were hurting. The extra paperwork at the office when you'd complain about being too tired to move."
Jewel nodded, surprised by her daughter's perceptiveness. The years of hiding, of trying to appear strong, had been more transparent than she'd realized.
"Houston has great medical facilities," Destini argued, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Why do we have to move to Dallas?"
Jewel sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion and years of frustration. "I've been driving to Dallas once a month for six months. This specialist—he's the best. I didn't make this decision lightly, sweetie, and I'm so sorry it's a rather abrupt decision. You only had a few weeks during the summer to get used to the idea, and for that, I'm sorry."
Her fingers traced an absent pattern on the bedspread, a nervous habit Destini had inherited. The room felt smaller, the weight of years of unspoken struggle pressing down between them.
Destini's eyes softened, just a fraction. Maybe she'd finally not just see her mother as an inconvenience, but as a person fighting a silent battle.
Destini's shoulders slumped, her teenage defiance momentarily deflating. "But it's just two more years, Mom," she said, her voice a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. "Two more years until I graduate. Why now?"
Jewel looked up, her stinging, burning eyes meeting Destini's. "I can't wait another two years to get better, and the monthly drives to Dallas were too exhausting," she said softly, a tremor of desperation threading through her words. "I'm sorry."
Then, almost as an afterthought, a strategic card she'd been holding close, Jewel added, "Besides, don't you want to meet your dad?"
The words hung in the air, charged and electric. Destini froze, her breath catching as her eyes went wild. The conversation shifted, transformed from an argument about moving to something far more profound—a potential connection to a father she'd asked about a few times a year her whole life.