Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
The tires of Jewel's truck screeched against the gravel, throwing up a cloud of dust that hung like a ghostly veil behind her. She killed the engine and was out of the vehicle before it fully stopped, her boots hitting the ground with frantic urgency.
The front door banged against the wall as she burst inside, her heart racing with a mother's visceral fear. The hallway seemed to stretch impossibly long, each step echoing with potential disaster. She raced up the stairs.
Destini's bedroom door was partially open. Jewel could see her daughter's form curled on the bed, her hair a wet tangle against the pillow. The faint scent of smoke clung to her like a desperate whisper.
"God," Jewel breathed, her hand pressed against her chest. The shower-damp skin, the smoky residue—Ana had been telling the truth.
Destini's shoulders were tense, her back turned. Wet hair cascaded down her neck, droplets of water leaving tiny dark spots on her pillowcase. She was alive. She was home. But the shaking shoulders revealed deep turmoil.
Jewel's professional medical training warred with her maternal instincts. Check for injuries? Demand answers? The smoke smell was subtle but distinct—not just a campfire smell, but something more urgent. Something that spoke of danger, of escape, and confirmed Ana's words.
She took a step closer, watching the shuddering rise and fall of her daughter's breathing. Watching. Waiting. The silence between them felt charged, like electricity before a storm.
"Hey, Mom," Destini said, not turning to her, her voice shaking with sobs.
Jewel's voice broke the silence, raw with emotion as she sank onto the foot of the bed. "Oh my God, what happened? Ana just called to thank Chase for dropping off Skye and mentioned the barn fire. You went to a party? Snuck out?"
The words tumbled out sharp and accusatory, years of protective instinct and buried fear surfacing in a single breath. She watched Destini's back stiffen, muscles coiling beneath skin still damp from her shower.
Destini sat up, spinning just enough to show the side of her face—defiance etched in the set of her jaw. "It's not like that, Mom. It's?—"
"What? A betrayal of trust? I thought you were safe at a friend's house."
Destini wiped at her eyes, and her words registered in Jewel's mind.
Her daughter's voice carried a tremor of anger, fear, and emotion. Jewel recognized that tone. It was the same tone she herself used when cornered, when truth was more complicated than a simple explanation could capture. Genetic inheritance, she thought briefly—this reflexive defensiveness.
The smoke smell seemed to pulse between them, a silent witness to whatever had transpired. Jewel waited, her medical training kicking in. Observe, don't interrupt, let the patient—no, her daughter—speak.
"I was, but then Kayla wanted to go to a party and?—"
Jewel's fingers curled into her palms, fingernails pressing crescents into skin. She was losing control of this conversation, and she knew it.
"And what? If all your friends wanted to jump off a cliff, you'd go right along with them? I thought I raised you better than that."
Destini flung herself back onto the bed, sobbing anew.
Jewel winced, running a hand over Destini's calf. "Shit, I didn't mean that. You're amazing just the way you are. It's just, when Ana said?—"
Something inside Destini snapped. "Why don't you ever care about what I say?"
The shout erupted, sharp and wounded. Her voice rose, trembling with years of accumulated frustration even as she covered her face with her hands. "You're always so quick to think about what others think or feel but what about me? You never talk with me anymore."
Destini's last words came out like a knife—precise, cutting, barely a whisper. "God, I can't wait to go to college."
Those last words hung in the air, a declaration of escape. Jewel saw it then—not just the immediate rebellion, but the deeper fracture. Her daughter wasn't just fighting about tonight. She was fighting about years of unspoken distance, of conversations avoided, of emotional barriers carefully constructed.
Destini's eyes glinted—part anger, part something more vulnerable. Something that looked terrifyingly like loneliness.
Jewel leaned forward, seeking Destini's hand, her clothes still faintly smelling of the clinic, a barrier between her and her daughter. "What do you mean? We talk."
The words sounded hollow even as they left her mouth. She knew they were more reflex than truth.
Destini's laugh was sharp, brittle. "Not about real stuff, Mom." Each word landed like a precisely placed punch. "Talking is not your strength. It took you a year to tell me you had Lyme. An entire year of me watching you struggle, of me wondering why you were so tired, so distant. And fifteen years— fifteen —before you admitted you didn't know who my father was."
Her gaze was laser-focused, cutting through Jewel's practiced calm. This wasn't just about tonight's party. This was about every conversation they'd never had, every truth left unspoken.
Jewel felt the weight of those years—the secrets, the half-truths, the careful choreography of avoiding real emotional intimacy. Her daughter had learned her lessons well: how to deflect, how to hide, how to create distance with a carefully chosen word or silence.
The accusation hung between them, a mirror reflecting every uncomfortable truth Jewel had spent years avoiding.
Destini hugged a pillow to her chest, a tiny movement that spoke volumes. One hand swiped quickly across her cheek—a tear, swift and silent. She turned, presenting Jewel with her back. The rejection was total, complete, and it hurt like hell.
Jewel felt the moment viscerally. Her daughter was right. She'd spent years building emotional walls, teaching Destini through example how to hide, how to protect oneself by revealing nothing. Each secret kept, each feeling buried had been a silent lesson. Vulnerability is dangerous.
The realization crashed over her like an icy wave. She wasn't just hiding from others. She'd been hiding from herself. And now, she'd successfully taught her daughter to do exactly the same thing.
She didn't know how to talk about her feelings, but perhaps asking questions would help.
"Ana said that Chase helped save the kids from the fire and was there to pick y'all up. He rescued you." The words came out softer than she intended, a defensive edge cutting through her own shame. A spark of jealousy flickered—hot and unexpected. "Why did you call him and not me? You knew I was awake at the clinic."
The question hung in the air, part accusation, part wounded maternal vulnerability.
Destini's voice came back, sharp and clear. "Dad understands me. You're too busy running from everything to listen to me. I knew he'd come, no questions asked." She twisted slightly, just enough to catch Jewel's eye. "You never listen to me, but Dad does."
The words landed like precise knife cuts. Jewel felt each one, understanding now how her own patterns of avoidance had created this moment. Chase talked. Chase listened. Chase showed up. She recognized the painful truth in her daughter's words.
Her mind raced through memories—her own teenage years, the reckless choices born from silence and unspoken fears. Destini's party tonight was a mirror image of her own past, if the mirror was a circus mirror, distorting key details.
Sixteen years ago, Jewel had been a young woman making a choice in isolation, without real conversation, without true understanding. She and Chase hadn't really talked back then, either.
Well, Chase had. She'd listened, but not engaged, not shared her hidden fears or worries about their future together. She'd decided on her own that she knew what the best course of action was, without talking with anyone about it.
And it had led them all here to this one night. If Jewel had truly listened, truly engaged with her daughter, might Destini have made a different choice? Might she have felt safe enough to say no?
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken realizations. Jewel watched her daughter's back, seeing not just a teenager, but a reflection of herself—wounded, defensive, desperate to be heard but unsure of what to say or how to say it.
Jewel's hands clenched and unclenched, the ache constant. She'd spent years building walls, teaching Destini how to control emotions. But control wasn't protection or processing. It was a prison.
"You're right," she said softly, her voice cracking slightly. "I don't talk, but I don't want you to learn my bad habits. It's good to confront the truth and talk about it. I—I want to be better. So let's talk."
She moved slowly, carefully, climbing onto the bed and settling beside Destini. Her back pressed against the cool comforter, eyes lifting to the ceiling where glow-in-the-dark stars scattered across the darkness—a little piece of Chase's love, installed before Destini had even moved in.
The stars seemed to pulse with a quiet energy, witnesses to this moment of potential transformation. Destini remained turned away, but her body had softened slightly. Not relaxed, but listening. Waiting.
Jewel knew this was more than just a conversation about tonight's fire, tonight's party. This was about breaking generational silence. About showing Destini a different way of moving through the world—with openness and vulnerability.
Her hand inched closer, not quite touching her daughter, but close enough to offer connection.
"I'm listening," she whispered. "When you're ready."
Destini's shoulders tensed, then slowly relaxed. A deep breath escaped her, laden with the faint remnant of teenage defiance.
"Kayla wanted to join her boyfriend at a party," she began, her voice low and measured. "So we snuck out, and she drove us to Jake Miller's—his parents were out of town. Everyone was just hanging out, playing music, talking."
Jewel's fingers traced an invisible pattern on the bedspread, her muscles tight with unspoken anxiety.
"I know I shouldn't have gone," Destini continued, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her defensive tone. "But everyone was going, and I... I just wanted to feel normal. Like a regular teenager. I was tired of everyone talking about my dad being a convict and calling me a goody two shoes. The science kids… they don't like me here. I didn't make the debate team—they said I could try out next year. But the soccer kids welcomed me, and Kayla is the team captain."
The unspoken weight of her words hung between them. Normal, what every teenager both craved yet dreaded.
"One of the football boys hit on Skye, which isn't unusual. But then all of them kept trying to get us to drink, even though we said no. Kayla disappeared with her boyfriend, and then the guys brought out shots and pills and—and it was just too much. So I called Dad while we hid in the barn."
Jewel waited, giving Destini time. Eventually, Destini moved onto her back, linking their fingers together between them. "I was so glad to see Dad. He was like a knight in shining armor. Uncle Gunner was there too, and Dad didn't want to leave him there to deal with a dozen teenagers. So Skye, Vi, and I locked ourselves in Raul's car while Dad and Uncle Gunner went to break up the party."
A deep, soul wrenching sigh filled the room.
"Then the fire started." Destini's voice changed, becoming sharper, more urgent. "It was so fast. One minute we were just talking, and the next—flames were everywhere. Dad and Gunner were getting kids to safety, then Kayla came stumbling out of the barn, screaming about her boyfriend—and Dad… he just rushed inside."
Jewel's breath caught. Her mind raced with images of her daughter in danger, of Chase and Gunner rushing around, of Chase running headlong into danger.
"I don't think I'll ever forget him running into that barn," Destini said, her tone softening. "I kept thinking—what if I never get to ride horses with him? What if I never get to joke with him or show him my science homework or—or tell him I love him. I haven't told him yet, Mom, and I should have. He could have died?—"
Destini's shoulders shook, and Jewel pulled her into her arms, holding her tight as she stroked her wet hair.
Jewel shook too, and she couldn't blame it on a flare-up. Destini had spoken her own fears out loud, identifying them quicker than Jewel ever would have.
Destini sobbed. "He just... he didn't hesitate. Just ran inside, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I was hyperventilating. Completely frozen. I've never been so scared in my life."
Jewel's hand instinctively reached out, finding Destini's. Her fingers intertwined with her daughter's, feeling the lingering tremors of fear.
"The entire time he was inside, I couldn't breathe. All I could think was—what if he doesn't come out? What if he dies trying to save someone else?"
The raw vulnerability in Destini's voice was something Jewel rarely heard. Her daughter, usually so guarded, was revealing her deepest fears.
Destini shuddered, drawing in a deeper breath. "When he came out, the fire trucks and ambulances arrived, loud and chaotic. The paramedics wanted to check him out, wanted to take him to the hospital, but he refused. All he cared about was getting us home safe."
The last words hung in the air—a testament to Chase's character, to his protective instincts. Jewel waited, her heart racing, knowing there was more to the story.
"He started talking on the drive home," Destini said, her voice shifting. "About his time in prison. Things I never knew before."
Jewel felt her muscles tense. Chase rarely discussed his past, especially with Destini.
"He told my friends about that night," Destini continued, her voice dropping. "The entire story. Not just snippets, but... everything. How he ended up there, what really happened."
"What did he say?" she asked softly, her thumb tracing small circles on Destini's hand.
Destini's voice was quiet, almost reverent. "He told them about how he was a goody two shoes, how he'd only sip one beer when he'd go to high school parties and always left at exactly the one-hour mark. He told them how he was tutoring nine people and working his ass off to earn enough money for college, all while working the ranch and doubling up on classes so he could graduate early."
Jewel's eyes teared up, knowing that he'd done that so they could be together. It was so obvious now, and she wondered—if she'd talked with Chase, told him she'd wait for him, made sure he didn't work himself to the bone trying to get out of Crimson Creek—would he have made the same mistakes?
"He said that a guy he tutored paid him in beer and pot, and that he'd dump it on the side of the road even though he knew how to make money selling it. He said that doing the right thing isn't always a black-and-white, clear-cut decision. Sometimes doing the right thing means making impossibly scary choices, like tonight when he ran into the barn."
The words hung between them, loaded with unspoken meaning. "He told us that we could've easily been arrested tonight or worse, like what happened with him."
Jewel squeezed her hand. "That's true. It's why I peeled out of the clinic to get here. I was so worried about you."
"And Dad," Destini said it like it was a fact, which it was.
Jewel nodded, admitting the truth in the dark. "There will be consequences from tonight though and not just with us at home. You're going to have to talk to your Uncle Gunner to see if you're in trouble with the law, and you and your friends will probably have to do something for the Millers to pay back the property damages."
Destini grew quiet, her grip on Jewel's hand tightening. Her breathing slowed, becoming steady and deep. "That's alright, Mom," she murmured, her voice soft and drowsy. "At least we're all safe. I'll work off whatever I need to for as long as it takes."
Jewel laid there for long moments until Destini's breathing shifted into the rhythmic pattern of sleep, her body relaxing into the mattress. It reminded her of fifteen years before when she'd wait for Destini to fall asleep before she'd drift off too. Jewel watched her daughter's face, seeing the vulnerability that usually remained hidden behind teenage defiance.
Heavy footsteps echoed up the wooden stairs—a familiar cadence that could only belong to Chase. Each step carried the weight of the world, heavier than normal.
She could easily slip into sleep next to her daughter and ignore him and their feelings. It was what she was good at.
But the time for running was over. She could've lost him tonight. Tears pricked her eyes, and she screwed up her courage to talk with him.
Jewel carefully extracted her hand from Destini's, making sure not to disturb her now-sleeping daughter. She pulled the blanket up, tucking it gently around Destini's shoulders. With a soft click, she closed the bedroom door, turning to follow Chase into their bedroom, bracing herself for whatever storm was about to break.