Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Chase walked into the small storefront that served as the therapist's office a few blocks off Main Street, the bell dinging as he pushed the door open. The scent of a diffuser wafted in the air and the light was soft compared to the bright Texas sun outside, leading to a more cozy, welcoming environment.
Two couches faced each other with a coffee table between. Zarrel looked up from a couch and head bobbed a welcome, his hulking presence easygoing compared to others Chase had met in prison. Chase removed his sunglasses and baseball cap as he took a seat on the other couch across from Zarrel.
As the bell faded, Tasha stepped out of a room in the back, a wide smile on her face. Brown hair swept into a low ponytail and glasses firmly on her face, she had become a confidant the past year since his release.
She sank into a plush wingback chair and grabbed her notepad from the side table. Poised and attentive, she flipped open her notepad with an encouraging smile.
"Let's start by checking in," she suggested, her voice a soothing balm to them both. "How are y'all feeling today?"
Zarrel shrugged and scratched his jaw. "Doin' a'ight. Work is working. Went to see my sister in Dallas this weekend, and I've never been more glad to live here."
He explained about a run-in his sister had with some of her co-workers, Tasha asking questions here and there before she observed, "Seems like you've been visiting her more this year."
"I worry about her—want to make sure she's got everything she needs." He shifted in his chair, muscles tensing beneath his shirt. "That's why I'm grinding at the bakery and the Old Mill. Gotta build up more savings, so if something happens to her, I can take care of her and her kids."
"If you want me to look at your money, I'm happy to help," Chase offered. "My brothers and Lola can vouch for my services, even though I haven't passed my CFA exam yet."
Zarrel smiled. "I was actually waiting until you passed the exam before bugging you about it, but if you're willing now, I'll gladly take you up on that."
Chase nodded and rubbed his hands on his thighs, needing the abrasive texture of the jeans on his skin. "I got you, man."
Chase felt a kinship with Zarrel, another soul striving for redemption in a world quick to judge and slow to forgive. They were men chasing after second chances, reaching for a happiness that seemed just beyond their scarred fingertips. He'd do anything legal he could to help the man succeed, just like he'd offered those friends he'd made in prison.
"How have you been, Chase? How's your mom doing?" Tasha asked.
He frowned, a heavy silence falling over him as he stared at the carpet, tracing patterns with his eyes before lifting his gaze to meet Tasha's expectant one.
"I've been alright, but emotions have been all over the place."
"Your mom's accident and major surgery on her hip can be second-hand traumatic for you, remember? You have to give yourself grace with it."
He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know, but it's not just my mom that's got me stressed. I got some news a few months ago that has me re-assessing my future."
"What do you mean?" Tasha asked, scribbling on the notepad. "Are you still going to take the exam?"
He shrugged, his voice softer than he wanted as he struggled to voice his feelings. "Yeah, that's not what I'm questioning. I feel confident about the exam. It's more everything else about being an adult. I found out that I might have a teenage daughter, so I signed on a house this morning."
The room went silent, but he didn't look up.
"Um, what now?" Zarrel asked. "A daughter with whom?"
He tilted his head and shook it. "I—can't share that yet. We're waiting on the DNA results. I haven't even met her— if I'm her dad, I want to tell her first before anyone else."
"There's a lot to unpack there. How do you feel about the idea of being a dad?" Tasha asked.
Chase took a deep breath, his fingers tracing the seam of his jeans. "Honestly? I'm terrified. I never thought I'd be in this position. After everything I went through in prison, the last thing I expected was to potentially be a father."
Zarrel leaned forward, his massive frame somehow looking vulnerable. "You'll do better than most, Chase. I've seen how you are with people. Patient. Thoughtful. Observant."
Tasha made a note, her pen moving smoothly across the page. "Are you scared? Excited? Nervous?"
"All of it," Chase said, a bitter laugh escaping. "I spent years in prison trying to rebuild my life, make something of myself after my mistakes and prove to everyone that I wasn't just a screw up. And now this—this potential daughter—if she's mine, it will just affirm to my parents that I'm their most fucked-up offspring."
"Ah, still haven't talked with them about how they've treated you, eh?" Zarrel asked softly.
He shook his head. "When Mom got hurt, I was right there. I had tried to help the mare, and Mom tried to stop me. She asked what I thought I was doing, like I'm completely new to horses or ranching… It hurt."
"Your mom's accident wasn't your fault," Tasha said softly.
He nodded, crossing his arms and shifting on the seat with a frown. "I know that logically, but the hurt I still feel from them… It separates us, like I'm home, but I'm not really home, you know? They still won't let me help with the business or the finances or anything more than just physical labor. It's like the fact I got the bachelor's degree doesn't even register to them."
He listened to the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sound of traffic, reminders that life outside this room buzzed with normalcy—a concept he grappled to join.
"That must be very frustrating. Are you going to tell them how you feel?" Tasha asked.
Chase shook his head and sighed. "No, not with all the chaos about Mom's recovery. Although Hunter has taken notice and is talking with me about all he's been learning from our dad on the business side of things."
Tasha's voice sliced through his reverie, gentle yet insistent. "That's good, but you don't seem as excited as I expected."
He shrugged and looked at a painting across the room, staring unseeing. "I'm grateful to Hunter, don't get me wrong, but it also feels like I don't deserve it. We had a big fight over something I did before I went to prison, which I finally came clean about with him. We fought about it."
"Was that the fight at poker night?" Zarrel asked. Chase nodded, his bruises long faded.
"I wondered when you were going to talk about that. You don't think he should've forgiven you?" Tasha asked. "Why not?"
Chase looked at his hands, the scars from fights over the years, the calluses. He shook his head no.
"As soon as it was over, it was like water under the bridge. He just—let it go, but it can't be that simple, can it? I definitely don't deserve his forgiveness and haven't paid my price for that like I did to society with prison," he admitted, his voice a hoarse whisper, an echo of vulnerability. "Feels like I'm walking on a tightrope, and I could fall at any moment. He can't have actually forgiven me. It's never that easy."
Tasha tilted her head to the side. "He's your brother, and he loves you. Love covers a multitude of sins, so they say."
Zarrel crossed his arms, his biceps bulging as he agreed with Tasha.
Her eyes soft with empathy, she added, "Your feelings are valid though and are very common after what you've been through. But remember, Chase, that tightrope is also a path forward. Are you going to let that fear dictate your relationship with him or your future actions?"
Chase wasn't the one hanging back because of fear; that was Jewel. She'd run screaming from the cabin when he'd suggested they be something more. After they'd lost Clio and his mom had been hurt, they'd fucked seven ways to Sunday, but the next morning, she'd dropped him off at the ranch where he'd left Gladys, and that was that. He hadn't heard from her in a few weeks, so she clearly didn't need or want him. He'd reached out by text, left two voicemails, and had gone to the clinic, but had never seen her.
He'd accepted that it had been a one-time thing, but he wanted so much more. Would he ever be worthy of anyone?
Perhaps when he moved into his house, he'd have something to offer. At the least, maybe his daughter wouldn't be embarrassed by him, assuming she was his.
"No, that's why I went ahead with the house purchase. Despite being scared and nervous, it was time."
The cabin was too oppressive now, with memories of Jewel lingering everywhere he turned.
"What's got you so nervous?" Zarrel asked.
"What if I'm supposed to do some kind of maintenance, but have no idea it's supposed to happen? Like how a car needs an oil change every so many miles."
"Ah, gotcha," Zarrel said, shifting on the couch, muscles tensing beneath his shirt. "That I get, but thankfully, we live in the age of Google."
Chase snorted a laugh.
"You're not alone in this. We can help," Tasha said.
Zarrel nodded. "That's right. When you move in, we'll all be there to pitch in. That's what I love about this small town. Everyone supports everyone, even convicts like us."
He ran his hands down his thighs as his stomach twisted. "I'm going to need to spend a lot to furnish the house, which means dragging someone with me to drive a truck, since I still don't have a license. There's just a lot piling up right now, and I'm afraid to fail again."
Tasha frowned. "Again?"
His shoulders hunched. "When I got really stressed in high school, it led to a series of terrible choices and that girl died and I went to prison."
"Ah," Tasha said. "You're afraid of making more terrible decisions. You've been conditioned to expect failure, to brace for the worst. It's time to start believing in the possibility of success, of a future where you're more than your past mistakes."
Chase's eyes flicked to Zarrel, whose presence was a balm to the raw edges of his own anxiety. The big man had seen the darkness too, yet here he was, a testament to the journey towards redemption.
"Success in school always came with a letter grade and a degree," Chase echoed. "After I was sent away, I never really considered how it applied to relationships or anything else. Even though I got the degree, I always figured I'd be paying for what I did, not… not building something new."
"Reintegration is more than just surviving on the outside, Chase," Tasha said, her voice gentle but firm. "It's about allowing yourself to thrive. To have hopes, dreams, and yes, even a house of your own or a family if that's what you want. You have tools now to manage stress that you didn't have access to back then, remember?"
He took a deep breath, practicing the meditative techniques to remain calm despite the pain in his chest at the mention of a family—one he wanted with Jewel, though she'd made her stance on that idea clear.
But Tasha's words were also a sharp reminder of the potential daughter he had down in Houston. She deserved more than the shadows of doubt and fear that clung to him like a second skin. He needed to set an example for her, make her proud to have him as a father—and provide a place of refuge. That's what a house of his own would mean to her.
Not having a relationship with Jewel didn't mean he couldn't become worthy of the title of dad. He needed to provide not just a house and physical means such as money for school. He also needed to have healthy relationships with her mom, Jewel, and his own parents and Hunter.
He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck and sighed.
"Ah, I sense a breakthrough," Tasha said, her voice rising with excitement.
He snorted a grin. "Maybe. It's just—if I want a family with my potential daughter, I need to set an example with healthy relationships. Which means—even though I fought with Hunter, and it made me nervous to talk to my parents—I should try to repair that relationship."
Tasha clapped and squealed, "Yes! That's it. The least you can do is try."
He and Zarrel laughed at her excitement.
Once he'd known his mom was going to be alright and there was a schedule of people to stay with her round the clock, he'd holed up in the cabin until he'd gotten tired of going to his parents' for food. He needed to stock up on supplies in the cabin, so he'd arrived in town just in time for his therapy appointment.
This was why he'd long ago learned to look forward to therapy sessions, even when he was still in prison. It was often uncomfortable, but it was always necessary for growth. Like when he became a teenager and his legs would hurt all the time; growing pains were a pain in the ass.
"Do or do not, there is no try," Chase said finally, the declaration feeling like the first step of a thousand-mile journey. "I'll move into the house and speak to my parents before Thanksgiving."
Tasha smiled warmly, affirming his resolve. "That's a step in the right direction. Just remember, you're not walking that tightrope alone."
As the session drew to a close, the walls that once enclosed Chase in his old life seemed less formidable. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but for the first time, he felt equipped to face it—not just as an ex-convict, but as a man striving for a future unchained from his past.
It was what was best for his daughter. Well, his potential daughter. He needed to take this step for himself, so he could grow, but it was easier to focus on doing this for her.
They all stood, and he walked out with Zarrel.
"You need a ride home?" Zarrel asked as they both paused outside the door and pushed their sunglasses on.
Chase shook his head as he put on his baseball cap. "No, I rode Gladys today. Wanted the extra time to think and plan."
Zarrel laughed and stepped toward his car, parting ways with a snide dig at him being the richest careless guy he'd ever met. Chase just grinned and dipped into the alley between the old buildings where he'd left Gladys tied up.
He rubbed her neck and checked that she was alright, but didn't mount up. Instead, he went back around the side of the building and into Tasha's office.
At the ring of the bell above the door, she glanced up from where they'd left her sitting, laptop open now. Her brows rose as she waited.
He pursed his lips then sighed, "Do you have another half hour to talk?"
She waved to the couch he'd just vacated. "Sure, have a seat. Are you ready to spit it out?"
He tilted his head to silently ask what she meant.
She smiled, but simply asked, "What's on your mind?"
He sighed and sank onto the couch, spilling everything that had happened the past few months. From the fight with Hunter to Jewel coming home to their kiss to rescuing the dog and holding her in bed to her rejection and running away. Then the fear surrounding his mom being kicked, having surgery, losing the horse and foal, and Hunter's devastation and his own inadequacy to help. And finally to his one, steamy night with Jewel and how they'd not talked since then.
His voice was hoarse as he finished, but he already felt lighter to have gotten it all out. She handed him a cold bottle of water, and he chugged it as she talked softly.
"You can't control others' reactions to you. Life would be easier if we could. But you're doing the right things for the right reasons, Chase."
He finished the water and crushed the bottle, fiddling with the plastic. "I don't know, maybe this is what I needed to finally move on, instead of wondering what could've been. Maybe one last hurrah of a goodbye is what I needed to leave the past in the past."
She nodded but didn't say anything, letting him think through his emotions. Finally, she asked, "If she were willing, would you pursue her romantically?"
"Yes," he said, not even thinking about it. He blinked, not sure why his immediate response surprised him. He'd always wanted Jewel. He frowned and crossed his arms defensively. "Maybe I scared her off with our sex fest. Maybe I did something wrong, and she just doesn't know how to tell me…"
"Do you really believe that's a possibility?"
He shook his head. "Not really. Even all those years ago, she was very vocal about what she liked and didn't. But I've always felt like we had more, that it had the potential to be the type of love like my parents and grandparents had."
"I admire that you're not trying to push her for more," Tasha said, taking her glasses off and rubbing the bridge of her nose. "But neither should you lose hope. Maybe things will change once you get the DNA results?"
He rolled his shoulders and tossed the bottle in the trash as he stood. "Maybe, but I don't want her to take a chance on me just because I'm the father of her child, you know?"
"I think that's fair. The unknown is a stress inducer, and all of you might need to rip off that Band-Aid so you can deal with whatever the truth is. Procrastination isn't always the healthy thing to do. Those test results can't come fast enough."
"You're telling me." He winced and nodded. "For now all I can do is move into the new house and talk to my parents… then I'll find out if I'm a dad. I'll have to worry about Jewel later."
Tasha stood too and looked up at him, shaking her head. "If she walks away from you, it's her loss. Despite being a convict, you're a catch, Chase."
He snorted and turned to the door, but her hand on his arm stopped him. She looked up through her glasses, her gaze earnest. "Speaking as a healthy red-blooded woman, you're walking sin on a stick. Speaking as a human who craves security, you have more to offer than most. Speaking as your therapist, you've grown so much in the past year, and I couldn't be prouder."
"Grown? How so?" he asked with a frown.
She smiled and let her hand drop. "You're no longer shutting yourself up in the cabin but are thinking about relationships. Your parents, Hunter, a potential daughter, and now a potential partner in life. These are amazing strides, leaps and bounds really."
His shoulders hunched at the mention of holing up in the cabin, because that was exactly what he'd done. But then he grinned and put his baseball cap back on as he reached for the door. "Well, I always was an overachiever."
She laughed as he walked out the door and back to his horse. He was more relaxed as he rode to the grocery store in the center of town. Their therapy sessions were in the afternoon to accommodate Tasha's schedule at the school, but he needed to grab groceries before going home to his little cabin.
He frowned as he stopped at a stoplight, waiting for it to change. He pulled out his phone and swiped to the right number, calling Jade, the local realtor, while he rode to the store to see if they could move up the closing date.
When he pulled Gladys into the shade beside the grocery store, he had a game plan for when he'd sign the papers and go to Denton to buy furniture. With renewed confidence, he tied his horse to a light pole. He needed to add a bag of apples for Gladys to his shopping list. With a swipe at the sweat on his brow, he removed his sunglasses and stepped inside.