Page 30 of Glass Wings

We carry a few small bags out of the shop, she convinced me to buy a few things. We sit on a bench outside, the late afternoon sun slanting low and casting the sidewalk in gold. Kennedy sips her drink, her lips pressing tightly together.

“What is it?” I ask.

She places the cup on the bench and rubs her hands together. “I broke up with Ethan.”

My head snaps toward her. “What? When?”

“Last night.” Her voice is flat, like she’s trying not to give it too much weight. “He got angry with me over something stupid. I don’t even remember what started it. But the way he looked at me, Harley … I didn’t like it. And then he shoved a chair so hard it splintered. I realized if I stayed, it was only going to get worse.”

Ice runs through me. “Kennedy.”

“I left,” she says quickly, cutting me off before the panic in my voice can grow. “I packed a bag, walked out, and I’m not going back. I’m done making excuses for him.”

I reach for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Good. You did the right thing.”

Her shoulders shake, the bravado slipping. “I don’t have anywhere to go though. My mom will just say I should’ve stuck it out, and I can’t stomach hearing that. Do you think … Can I stay with you? Just until I find somewhe⁠—”

“Yes.” The word is out before she can even finish her sentence. “Of course. As long as you need. You don’t even have to ask.”

Tears rim her eyes, but she blinks them back. “You already have so much on your plate.”

“You’re my best friend,” I say firmly. “You’ve been holding me together since the day Easton was arrested. You’ll always have a place with me.”

For a moment, she leans her head on my shoulder, both of us silent, listening to the sounds of the bustling mall.

I think about Easton’s letter, about Gray’s name scrawled across the page. About the past crashing into our present. About Kennedy sitting beside me now, raw and vulnerable, asking for safety.

Maybe that’s what this whole season of life is about, all of us clawing for a place to feel safe. Me, Kennedy, Easton. And maybe the baby too, waiting quietly for a world that hasn’t figured itself out yet.

I lay my hand over my stomach, feeling the faintest flutter that is probably just nerves … but maybe, maybe, it’s something more.

“I’ll take care of you,” I whisper. I’m not sure if I mean Kennedy or the baby or both.

Maybe both.

Later that evening, while Kennedy is packing her things into boxes at Ethan’s apartment, I find the courage to make the call I’ve been avoiding. My fingers hover over the phone for what feels like forever until I finally press Call.

“Harley, honey, hi,” my mom answers, her voice clipped but polite, like I was one more meeting she happened to squeeze into her planner. Of course she had to wait until the last ring to pick up.

“Hi, Mom. How are you?” I twist the hem of my shirt between my fingers, praying she’s been too busy with work to notice the local news. Wishful thinking, of course.

“I’ve been wondering when you would call,” she says, and I can already hear the edge beneath her words. “I saw Easton on the news. He’s been arrested again?”

The bluntness hits me like a slap. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve tried to be patient. Harley, I really have. But I don’t understand why you tie yourself to this man who seems to drag you down at every turn.”

My throat burns, but I force my voice to stay steady. “Because you don’t know him like I do. He’s not what the news says. He was protecting Kennedy that night. He got shoved first⁠—”

“Protecting?” she interrupts, a disbelieving laugh catching in her throat. “Harley, that’s what men like him always say. They had to protect someone; they had no choice. And yet here you are, holding the pieces again while he’s behind bars.”

My stomach twists with a mix of anger and shame. I think about hanging up, retreating, but instead I press my hand to my belly and remind myself that this call isn’t just about me anymore.

“Mom,” I say, my voice breaking through softer than I intended, “I’m pregnant.”

The silence on the other end stretches so long I think the call has dropped. Then, a sharp inhale.

“Pregnant?” Her tone swings from disbelief to something I can’t quite place.