Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
The bell above the diner's door jangled as Chase held it open, the warm rush of conversations and clinking silverware washing over them. Jewel slipped past him, her perfume a familiar whisper that made his chest tighten. Her shoes clicked against the worn linoleum, each step measured and deliberate.
"Over here!" Hunter's voice cut through the ambient noise, waving them toward a cluster of tables pushed together.
Chase followed Jewel, his eyes tracking the subtle sway of her hips, the way her blond curls brushed the collar of her cream sweater. He'd spent years imagining moments like this—casual, familial, almost normal. Almost, except for the impending interrogation by their families.
He just had to fake it 'til he made it. Watch and observe.
Several of his siblings were already seated, their animated chatter filling the space. Hunter's grin was wide, Taylor's hand tucked possessively in his, her engagement ring winking in the fluorescent lights.
Chase pulled out a chair for Jewel and settled into the seat beside her, close enough to feel her body heat but not quite touching.
"Congratulations," he said to the newly engaged couple, his voice steady despite the complex emotions churning beneath the surface.
Taylor gushed a thank you, and Jewel struck up a conversation about wedding plans. Chase listened with half an ear as he took in the scene around him.
Landry's twins, Eddie and Freddi, were a whirlwind of energy at the end of the table in their highchairs. Holly's hands moved with practiced precision, one catching Eddie mid-attempt to launch a sugar packet across the room, the other gently steering Freddi's fork toward her tray.
"Eddie, hands to yourself," Holly said, her tone a perfect blend of maternal firmness and affection. The one-year-old boy looked up with an impish grin that was pure Landry—all charm and potential mischief—reminding Chase of when his little brother had been that age.
Chase watched the interaction, a familiar ache settling in his chest. The casual intimacy, the easy family dynamics—these were moments he'd missed during his years away. His gaze drifted to Jewel, wondering if she was thinking the same thing.
Across the table, Maryanne leaned toward Taylor, her conversation soft but intense. "No one says you need a big, giant wedding. Gunner and I got married on the side of a creek in Colorado. All we had was a dress, a bouquet, and friends to video chat with our families. It was perfect." She sighed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Gunner, seemingly oblivious to the conversation, was fully focused on their toddler Connie. He carefully wiped a streak of ketchup from her cheek, his large hands moving with surprising gentleness.
"Good job eating, bug," he murmured, offering her another bite of French fry.
Hunter's deep voice cut through the ambient diner noise, catching Chase's attention. He leaned toward their dad, their conversation focused and intense.
"The Appaloosa mare's showing signs of early labor," Hunter was saying, his fingers tracing an invisible map on the tabletop. "Thinking she'll drop her foal within the week."
Bill nodded, decades of ranching experience etched into the lines of his weathered face. It still surprised him how old his parents had gotten. "Ground's still soft from last week's rain. Good conditions."
Chase's ears pricked up when he heard Gemma's voice on the other side of Jewel, her tone carrying a hint of wounded vulnerability.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me," Gemma said to Jewel. "Imagine my surprise when a patient let the news drop that Chase was Destini's father—and you refused to answer the damn phone. I'm your sister ."
Jewel's response was low, tinged with a complexity of emotions. "I really thought Hunter was her dad. It would've been easier for everyone."
The words landed like a soft punch to Chase's gut. Easier. The unspoken implication hung in the air: she hadn't wanted him to be Destini's father. She didn't want him, didn't believe in him. The negative thoughts flashed through his mind, and he fought them with logic.
She hadn't actually said that. But the seed of doubt blossomed in his soul, and he shifted in his chair uncomfortably.
His jaw tightened, a familiar tension threading through his muscles. Hunter and Bill continued their ranching discussion, oblivious to the emotional undercurrent just inches away.
Lola's approach broke the tension, her crisp dress pants a stark contrast to the emotional landscape Chase was navigating. She leaned in, slapping a hand on his shoulder, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
"Big week coming up, Chase," she said, her voice carrying just enough volume to draw attention. "Exam and house signing, right? On top of finding out you're a dad! Congratulations. I'm so damn happy for you."
Chase chuckled as Kendall came up behind his wife, hands in his pockets. "Thanks, Lola," Chase said, nodding hello to Kendall.
Ava's head snapped up, her curiosity instantly piqued. "House? What house? What exam?"
Chase felt the weight of multiple gazes settle on him. He'd never been comfortable with attention, a remnant of years spent trying to blend into the background. But now, he was different. Controlled. Purposeful.
He snorted, a dry sound that was more self-deprecating humor than dismissal. "The Certified Financial Planner exam. The board approved me to take it last month when I hit the one-year post-release mark."
The words came out matter of fact, but beneath them churned a current of pride. One year. One full year of rebuilding, of proving himself, of showing everyone—especially Jewel—that he wasn't the same man who'd been locked away.
Ava's eyebrow arched, her skepticism as sharp as ever. "And they're just… letting you take the exam? Just like that?"
Chase met her gaze steadily. Unlike before, he didn't shrink, didn't apologize. He simply existed—transformed, whether she wanted to accept him or not.
Although he desperately hoped she would someday. He nodded at her slowly as the table congratulated him.
"Haven't taken the test yet, guys. No congratulations until I pass it."
Parker snorted. "When have you ever failed a test? It's all but in the bag."
The table chuckled and nodded at the truth of the statement, making Chase's collar grow tight.
Jewel's fingers brushed against her water glass, a subtle movement that drew Chase's attention. Her voice cut through the building tension, offering unexpected support.
Ava rubbed a hand over her forehead. "Alright, so that's the test. What's this house you're talking about?"
"He bought the MacDonald place on the hill," Jewel said, pride in her voice as she beamed up at him. That look—did that mean she wanted to live there with him? He still hadn't gotten an answer from her.
The room seemed to pause. Ava's eyes widened, her disbelief immediate and pointed. "What? That place is enormous. Gotta be over a million dollars."
Chase knew the property well. Sprawling acres, a massive Victorian with white-trimmed windows that had stood empty for years. The MacDonald place wasn't just a house—it was a statement. Twenty acres of potential, rolling hills that caught the late afternoon sun like golden promises.
Parker nodded. "Yeah, if it sat empty for another two years, I would've had the down payment ready to go. It'd make a perfect bed and breakfast. Then I'd have the market in this town cornered."
He felt Jewel's sideways glance—part curiosity, part challenge. They were tangled up together like old, barbed wire, but he couldn't stop hoping that whatever was between them was growing stronger. Perhaps someday, she'd love him the way he loved her.
The MacDonald place was a chance for redemption, a future, a chance to prove to Destini, his mom, to everyone that he could build something lasting. Something good.
Ava's skepticism hung in the air, heavy as summer humidity. Chase took a deep breath, biding his time and letting his actions speak louder than any defensive explanation ever could.
"Whatever will you do with all that house?" his mom asked, her voice high with surprise.
Chase crossed his arms and leaned back in his dining chair. "Live in it, what else? It's perfect for Destini and raising a family."
The restaurant went quiet, the kind of silence that made silverware seem loud and breathing seem intrusive.
Ava's whisper cut through like a knife. "A family?"
Two simple words, but Chase saw the implications rippling across faces around him. His mother took a sharp intake of breath. Jewel became suddenly still. His siblings exchanged quick, loaded glances.
He was prepared for judgment, prepared for doubt. But he was not prepared for the raw vulnerability that suddenly made his throat tight and his eyes sting.
"Yes," he said simply. No defensiveness. Just quiet certainty.
Destini wasn't just a daughter he had accidentally discovered. She was a second chance, a redemption narrative written in DNA and unexpected grace. And that house? Those acres? They were more than property. They were a promise to them both.
Chase watched Ava's face, saw the calculation behind her eyes. The maternal protectiveness wrestling with reluctant acceptance. She had always been the gatekeeper, the one who decided whether someone was worthy.
And for the first time, Chase met her gaze without flinching, silently challenging her to let him grow up and take this chance at happiness.
"So the three of you will live there together?" Taylor asked into the stillness.
Chase nodded, even as Jewel's shoulders hunched, breaking the tension. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I haven't agreed to move in yet. It's really up to Destini, and she hasn't said yes. She seemed... thoughtful? Hopeful maybe, when we showed her pictures of it yesterday. I'm not pushing her on it until she comes to visit for Thanksgiving, though."
Ava's lips pursed—a telltale sign Chase knew meant she was about to unleash her particular brand of maternal worry. Her fingers drummed against the tabletop, a staccato rhythm of disapproval.
"The MacDonald place though?" she said, her tone sharp enough to slice through butter. "Those mortgage payments are no joke, Chase. Have you really thought this through?"
Chase felt the familiar heat racing up his neck. Not really anger, but determination. He'd calculated every single number, knew exactly what he could afford, but Ava always saw him as the kid who'd spent years locked away, the one she still tried to shelter.
She didn't realize the man he'd become.
"I've run the numbers," he said evenly. "Multiple scenarios, with both conservative and aggressive projections."
Ava raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. "And child support? Destini's future university tuition? Those aren't cheap."
The implied judgment hung between them, and he was getting tired of the tests and hurdles she always seemed to throw up at him.
"I can provide for my family, Ma." His tone was harsh, and the tables went quiet once more. The rest of the table's food was delivered as they talked about his ability to provide for his family, and Lola and Kendall left with their foster daughter.
Landry chose that moment to interject, a protective edge in his voice. "Ma, Chase has almost as much money as I do at this point. I set aside twenty percent for him, ever since I started making money with songwriting and singing a decade ago. He was giving me directions on what to do with the money even then, and since he's been out, he's grown that nest egg considerably."
The comment landed like a strategic missile, cutting through Ava's skepticism. Chase felt a flush of gratitude—and embarrassment. He'd never asked Landry to do that, never expected his brother's financial support during those years.
Parker, sensing the moment, slapped Chase on the back with brotherly enthusiasm. "Thanks to him, I could grow my soccer money so I could buy the Old Mill, the gym on Main, and my house. All my soccer friends use him for financial portfolio help too."
Chase ducked his head, uncomfortable with the sudden spotlight. He didn't need validation, but hearing his brothers speak up felt like something profound. Like being seen, really seen, for the first time in his life.
His fingers absently traced the edge of his water glass, catching Jewel's sideways glance. She looked away, but not before he caught a flicker of something. Pride? Respect? Something he couldn't quite name, yet his soul hoped for.
Henry cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. His weathered hands rested on the table, callused from years of veterinary work and ranch life. "When Chase got out and started working with Lola, I was hesitant to work with him. Lola vouched for his work though, so I told her I'd give him six months."
His voice was measured and deliberate, his eyes piercing as they bored into Chase's heart. "I'll tell you what, it didn't take but two to see that he knows what he's doing. This boy knows numbers like I know animals. If he says he can afford that place, I believe him."
Henry raised his soda in a silent salute before taking a sip. Chase's throat threatened to close, knowing Lola had had to talk a lot of clients into taking a chance with him. Henry's vote of confidence was unexpected.
Believe in him…
Chase felt his neck warming, that familiar nervous tic making him rub the back of his head. He knew Henry didn't throw around compliments lightly.
"The books have never been more organized," Gemma said reluctantly. "And he's got a way of explaining financial strategies that makes complex stuff sound simple. Not many can do that."
Their praise landed differently than his brothers' boasting, feeling more like something he'd actually earned.
Chase felt a surge of quiet pride, his shoulders straightening almost imperceptibly. "I've worked hard to prove myself and show you that I'm more than my past mistakes."
A throat cleared nearby, interrupting the moment. Chase turned, catching a woman's silhouette standing beside their table. Her posture was deliberately neutral, her eyes scanning the group before landing directly on him.
Black hair and dark eyes, skin pale and freckled, her clothes were both edgy and professional. Black slacks and a red silk blouse were paired with biker boots and a leather jacket. She held a helmet in her left hand and nodded and smiled at the table before looking back at Chase.
"Excuse me," she said, her tone soft and hesitant. "I'm Lola and Kendall's social worker. They've mentioned you, and I couldn't help but overhearing—are you Chase Williams?"
The words felt like a sudden pressure drop in the room. Chase's muscles tensed involuntarily, his recent sense of pride evaporating. Social workers always represented potential judgment, potential failure.
Chase's fingers, which had been resting casually on the table, now gripped the edge slightly. His breath caught in his throat, waiting to see what would come next. He'd dealt with a lot of social workers, but he didn't think they'd ever met before.
His eyes flickered quickly to Jewel, seeking some unconscious signal of support, some hint of how to proceed. Her hand slipped to his knee, and he finally took a breath.
He nodded reluctantly, his throat dry, constricted.
The woman extended her hand to shake, and he took it automatically. Her grip was firm, practiced and purposeful. As their hands connected, Chase noticed something shift in her expression. Her face veneer softened, revealing something deeper, more personal.
Her eyes—a complex green that seemed to hold multiple layers of emotion—turned sad. Not pitying. Not accusatory. Just… sad.
"I'm Olive," she said, her voice carrying a subtle tremor that suggested this moment meant more to her than a typical professional interaction. "My sister was Abigail Smith."
The name hung in the air between them before the bomb of her words detonated. Shock pulsed through his body—recognition, dread, a complex cocktail of emotions he couldn't immediately name. His hand, still clasped with hers, suddenly felt like it was conducting an unseen current of memory and consequence.
A flash of the accident flew through him, the newspaper images, the reports from the case.
He licked his lips and stood, his hand still grasped in hers. She was a petite little thing, her black hair in a pixie cut. She squeezed his hand and smiled softly, sadly.
"Ye-yes, I'm Chase Williams," he said, his voice gruff, low and shaking with emotion.
"I was the other little girl in the car that day," she said, each word carefully chosen. Her gaze never left Chase's face, studying him and making him want to squirm.
Oh God, it was finally happening. His past was here, staring him in the face.