Page 29 of Glass Wings

For a long time after that, I sit with Harley’s letter under my palm and Gray’s list under my other, trying to decide which hand feels heavier. When Harris comes by for mail, I pass him the envelope through the slot. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but his fingers close around the paper gently.

“Everything good?” he asks again, like it’s a habit.

“Not yet, but maybe soon it will be.” I say.

He nods once and moves on.

Sixteen

HARLEY

Easton’s handwriting blurs before I even finish the second sentence. I blink hard, thinking I read it wrong. I read it again.

Little Bird,

I don’t know where to start, so I’ll keep this short. I have new information that Rick thinks might help me. It came from Gray. Yes, that Gray. He showed up out of nowhere, and I’m still sorting through how I feel about it. But what he gave me could change things.

I’ll explain more soon. Just hold on for me. I’m fighting my way back to you.

Always yours,

Easton

I re-read the name until it stopped looking like English and starts looking like some foreign mark carved into the page. Gray. His foster brother. The same Gray who framed him years ago. The same Gray who hasn’t shown his face since.

If Easton is even willing to put his name on paper, it has to mean something. Still, confusion knots in my chest. Why now? Why come back when everything is already broken, sitting wide open?

I shove the letter into the shoebox with the others, but this one doesn’t slide in as neatly. It sticks up, the corner jutting like a reminder that nothing is as simple as I want it to be.

Kennedy honks from outside. I grab my bag, shove my hair into a messy bun, and try to breathe through the nausea that hasn’t quite left since morning. We’re supposed to go shopping for baby clothes today. Her idea, not mine, because I’m not sure I’m ready. But Kennedy has been relentless.

“Just a few outfits,” she’d say. “Nothing crazy. You need to get excited about this, Harley.”

The truth is … excitement scares me. But I agreed to go anyway. I can’t keep living only in letters and therapy sessions.

The little boutique in the mall smells like baby powder and lavender detergent, the kind of smell that feels soft enough to crawl into. Tiny dresses in pale pinks and creams line the walls while racks of onesies in every imaginable print stretch in neat rows. A wall display with of shoes no bigger than the palm of my hand makes my throat tighten.

Kennedy heads straight for the racks, her nails tapping against the hangers as she flips through the onesies. “Oh my god, look at this one.” She holds up a soft yellow onesie with little white ducks on it. “Tell me this doesn’t make your ovaries explode.”

I try to smile, but my hands stay shoved in my pockets. “It’s cute.”

“Cute? Harley, this is life-altering levels of adorable.” Kennedy holds it to my chest like she’s measuring it against the life growing inside me. “The baby’s going to look like a literal sunbeam in this.”

I pull the onesie from her hands and hang it back up, my fingers trembling. “I’m not ready to buy things yet.”

Her expression softens. She sets her hand on my arm. “I know. But you don’t have to buy. Just … look. Dream a little. You’ve been so stuck in survival mode you don’t let yourself think about the good stuff.”

I stare at the rack, at the tiny pieces of fabric stitched into futures. Dreaming feels like balancing on the edge of a knife. But Kennedy is right. I can’t keep treating this baby like a possibility that might disappear.

I reach out and pick up a small knit hat in pale green. The yarn is soft against my skin. “This one’s … nice.”

Kennedy grins like I just announced I won the lottery. “Progress!”

We move through the store slowly, her filling the silence with chatter about patterns and colors, while I let myself imagine for just a few minutes what it might be like to dress a little girl in one of these outfits. To fold them into drawers. To see Easton’s hands struggle with the tiny buttons and laugh when he gets them wrong.

I put the hat back carefully. “One day.”

Kennedy loops her arm through mine. “One day soon.”