Page 11 of Glass Wings

The judge’s robe sweeps across the floor as he sits, gavel tapping once. His face is unreadable, carved from years of men like me trying to beg for mercy. I know that look. I hate that look.

The DA speaks first, her voice clipped and cold as she lays out the charges: assault, battery, a repeat offense. She painted me as a monster in only a few sentences. Violent, dangerous, and incapable of restraint. Words like concussion, prior record, and public safety drum in my ears. I’m not that person, I was protecting a victim.

Rick rose, calm but sharp-edged, cutting into her narrative with practiced precision. “My client was protecting a young woman from a dangerous situation. He reacted to prevent harm, not to cause it. He has strong ties to this community, a fiancée, family, a steady and rising career. He is not a flight risk.”

But the judge’s eyes weren’t softening. If anything, they hardened with every word. My pulse hammered.

Then came the words I dreaded.

“Mr. Diggs,” the judge says, voice like iron. “Given your prior history and the seriousness of this new charge, I am not inclined to grant release at this time.”

The floor drops out beneath me. My chest seizes. Jail. Again. Locked away while Harley waits, while life moves on without me.

Rick’s voice breaks through, louder now, pushing back, demanding the court consider my intent, my circumstances. The DA shoots back, her tone sharp enough to draw blood. Their voices blur into background noise, a storm I can’t weather.

Because my eyes have gone back to Harley.

She was trying to hold herself together. Her chin is trembling, her dark lashes are wet with tears, and her hands shake so badly that Kennedy covers them with her own. And then, like a dam breaking, Harley folds. Her shoulders hunch, her face buries into her palms. The sound of her muffled sob reaches me even across the room.

It guts me. Worse than the gavel. Worse than the cuffs. Worse than any cell waiting down the hall.

Because prison can’t touch what I’ve just destroyed in her.

Four

HARLEY

April 4th

Harley,

I’ve called so many times, I need to explain what happened that day. I’m not a monster; I’m being falsely accused. Again.

Please just pick up the phone. You can trust me, Harley, I would never do anything to purposefully jeopardize our future.

I know I don’t deserve it, I know you feel betrayed. You must think so little of me right now, but I need you to hear me out before you decide you’re done with me, with us. I messed up. I swore to you I wouldn’t end up here again, yet here I am, sitting in chains, writing to the only person who has ever made me believe I could be more than this.

My Little Bird. My freedom. My purpose in life.

I promised you better. I promised you forever. And now all I can picture is the look on your face when they dragged me into that courtroom. You cried because of me. Because I couldn’t keep my temper in check. Because I couldn’t be the man, I swore I’d be for you.

Don’t let this be the end of us. Don’t let my mistake erase everything we’ve fought for. I need you, Harley. More than freedom, more than air. Just give me one chance to explain. Please answer my call.

Yours,

Easton

Five

EASTON

April 6th

My Little Bird,

I can’t stop seeing you in that courtroom. You looked so small, so breakable. I never wanted you to ever step foot in a situation like that. I never wanted you to see me so low. You deserve more than that, and I’m sure Kennedy has told you so. I saw the hate in her eyes, and the anger, for putting you through this.

Don’t let the voice inside your head win, please. Make sure you keep eating for me and keep going to the therapist. Seeing you in that courtroom made me hate myself more in that moment than I ever have before.