Page 22 of Glass Wings

The judge enters. “Case number 22-1564, State versus Easton Ryder Diggs.”

My throat tightens so hard I think I’m going to choke.

The prosecutor begins, her words like ice shards hurling across the room. “The defendant committed felony assault resulting in bodily injury…”

Defendant.

Assault.

Injury.

Dangerous.

Repeat offender.

Each word lands like a blow. I flinch, but I don’t look away. If Easton has to sit here and take it, then so do I. This is what I signed up for, whether I knew it or not, the day I said yes to being his wife. And even though we haven’t had the chance to say our vows yet, I’m not going anywhere.

The officer testifies next. His voice is flat, rehearsed, like Easton is nothing more than a line item in his nightly report. No remorse, he said. My chest burns. He doesn’t know Easton. He doesn’t know the man who spent countless nights tracing my hand under the covers just to fall asleep. He doesn’t know the man who took notice of the world when no one else did.

And then the victim takes the stand. I want to scream. To shout that he’s lying, that he wasn’t the one who had almost been drugged. That he was the monster in this whole situation and not my beautiful man. But my voice stays locked behind my teeth. My nails dig crescents into my palms.

Kennedy’s trembling beside me. Ethan begged her not to testify; I overheard some of the argument when he found out what she was going to do. But my best friend is strong. She stood her ground because she was the one who was almost drugged. I know how hard it must be for her to sit still, to not claw her way up there and tell the truth herself. So when Rick finally calls her forward, relief and terror tangle in my chest.

She sits tall, chin high and voice sharp. “I saw him. He put something in my drink. Easton noticed it before I did and reacted immediately. I was on the dance floor with my best friend and thought my boyfriend would take care of it, but he didn’t. Before I could do anything, he shoved Easton. And Easton defended himself.”

My lungs fill with air, the first time since the doors opened. Someone is finally speaking the truth. Someone is finally on our side.

The prosecutor tries to twist it, tries to make Kennedy’s loyalty a weakness, but she doesn’t falter. She holds steady. I want to hug her, thank her, fall at her feet.

But the judge’s face stays unreadable. Cold.

“Probable cause is established,” he finally says.

The words suck all the air out of the room.

Kennedy’s hand finds mine again, tight, grounding, but it can’t stop the tears from welling.

Rick stands, steady, still fighting. “Your Honor, given the testimony today, we renew our request for bail.”

The judge barely looks at him. “Denied.”

I break.

The sob tears out before I can stop it, my hand flying to my mouth too late. Tears blur everything—the judge, the prosecutor, even Easton. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. All I feel is the crushing weight of knowing he isn’t coming home. Not tonight. Maybe not for months.

Kennedy’s arm wraps around me, pulling me close, but I barely feel it. The sound of the gavel cracks through the air, final and merciless.

The deputy yanks Easton to his feet. The chains rattle again, louder now, because they’re the sound of loss. Of promises breaking. Of our future unraveling.

He turns once, his eyes finding mine. Wide, wet, wrecked. His lips form words I know, even without hearing.

I’m sorry.

And then the doors close behind him.

The walk out of the courthouse is a blur. My body moves because Kennedy tugs me along, but I’m hollow inside, nothing but shaking limbs and raw sobs I can’t swallow fast enough. Reporters shout questions. Cameras flash. I can’t hear them. I can’t see anything except the image of him being led away.

By the time we make it to Kennedy’s car, my legs are ready to give out, and I collapse into the seat, my whole-body trembling. I press my hands to my stomach, terrified that my excessive shaking will somehow hurt the tiny life inside me.