Chapter 5
Five
EASTON
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.
I need you to know why. I wasn’t looking for a fight.
I wasn’t looking for trouble. I was trying to stop someone from hurting Kennedy.
I swear on my life that’s the truth. But the second he swung at me, I forgot everything I promised you.
I forgot restraint. I forgot the future we were supposed to have.
I don’t expect forgiveness. God knows I haven’t earned it. But I’m begging you, Harley, don’t shut me out. Don’t let this mistake erase us. Please answer my call, I need to hear your voice. I need to know you’re still in this fight with me.
I love you, Harley.
Easton
I hurl the pen against the wall, the clatter echoing too loudly in the suffocating cell.
My fists clench, then release, then clench again as I pace, trying to bleed off the rage building inside me.
She hasn’t answered my calls. She hasn’t answered my first letter.
And the chance of her answering a second feels smaller than the four walls closing in on me.
The guard barely flinched at my outburst. He’s seen worse. Instead, he slides an envelope through the slot with a quiet nod.
“Thank you,” I mutter, my eyes catching on the return address before I even tear it open. Harley’s handwriting. Her name.
I devour the scribbled words, each line cutting deeper until my knees give out beneath me. The paper trembles in my hands as the weight of it hits.
She’s pregnant.
The words blur and reform with every reread. Pregnant. Our baby. My chest squeezes until I can’t breathe. I’m going to be a father, and the first thing I’ll be giving my child is a father with a record. A future shadowed by my mistakes.
I press the paper to my forehead, choking back a sound I don’t recognize. All I wanted was to do the right thing. To protect. And somehow, life has twisted that into another punishment. Another chain for me to wrap around the people I love.
By the time the guard speaks again, I’ve read Harley’s letter so many times the words are burned into my skull.
“I need the pen back, Easton.”
I force myself to my feet, the letter still clenched in one hand and pass him the pen along with the single page I’d managed to scrawl in reply. Short. Desperate. A plea scratched in ink.
He takes them carefully, his voice low, almost human. “I’m not supposed to be friendly with inmates. But whatever’s going on … it’ll get better.”
I swallow hard, doubt a lump in my throat. “I hope so.”