Chapter 18
Eighteen
HARLEY
Four Weeks Later
The courthouse smells the same as last time: faint bleach, paper, and nerves. I try not to let the memories creep in, but as soon as I walk through the doors, the weight of it presses on my chest like I’m back there again, crumbling as the gavel comes down.
This time is meant to be different. Rick says he has new evidence, that he’s filed for reconsideration. He told me not to pin my hopes on it, but what else am I supposed to do? Hope is all I have left.
I tug at the loose cardigan I threw over my dress this morning, an attempt to hide the curve of my stomach.
Four months isn’t much, in terms of a baby bump, but to me it feels like a billboard screaming pregnant to the whole room.
Every time someone’s eyes linger, I wonder if they are judging me, thinking what kind of girl I must be to carry the child of a man in chains.
Kennedy brushes my arm as we pass through security, her voice low and firm. “You, okay?”
I nod too quickly. “Fine.”
She doesn’t buy it. She never does. “Just breathe, Harls. You’re not alone in this.”
We slide into the second row, the same place we sat last time. The bench is hard, the kind that makes your back ache if you shift too much. I press my hands into my lap and try not to fidget, even with my stomach deciding to participate in an acrobatics show of nerves and nausea.
The doors open, and chains rattle, and my heart stops beating for a second.
Easton .
He looks the same, and yet not. His shoulders are squared and his jaw tight, but his eyes still find me instantly.
For a heartbeat the room falls away, and it’s just him and me, tethered through the space between us.
I mouth I love you before I can think better of it, and his lips twitch in the faintest echo of a smile.
The bailiff barks for everyone to rise, and the spell breaks.
The judge sweeps in, black robes pooling, his expression as unreadable as before. My throat tightens.
“State versus Easton Ryder Diggs, pre-trial conference,” the clerk announces.
The prosecutor rises first. Her voice is crisp, efficient, like she’s been rehearsing in front of the mirror.
“Your Honor, the State maintains its position that the defendant poses a danger to public safety and should remain detained pending trial. We have exchanged evidence with defense counsel, and we are confident in our case moving forward.”
My stomach churns. Confident. She says it like Easton is already guilty.
Rick stands slowly, buttoning his jacket with that calm steadiness I’ve begun to rely on.
“Your Honor, the defense respectfully disagrees. We have reason to request reconsideration of bail based on new evidence that has come to light since the preliminary hearing. Specifically, witness statements that call into question the credibility of the complainant.”
A flicker of hope flares in my chest. This is it.
The judge’s brow furrows slightly. “Proceed.”
Rick flips open his folder. “The defense has obtained information suggesting the alleged victim has been bragging publicly about the incident, including acknowledging that he shoved Mr. Diggs first. Furthermore, witnesses can place him handling a drink belonging to Ms. Kennedy Starr, who has already testified to the same. These details significantly undermine the State’s claim that Mr. Diggs acted as the aggressor. ”
Beside me, Kennedy squeezes my hand hard. My pulse thunders in my ears.
The prosecutor shoots to her feet. “Your Honor, the defense is relying on hearsay and secondhand accounts gathered outside the scope of this courtroom. The fact remains that the victim sustained a concussion at the hands of the defendant. He has a criminal history. He is a repeat offender. That is what matters here.”
I want to scream. I want to stand and shout that Easton isn’t just a “defendant,” that he is a man who has protected me, protected Kennedy, and is about to be a father. Instead, I sit frozen, nails biting into my palms.
Rick doesn’t flinch. “Your Honor, the State cannot dismiss corroborating accounts simply because they are inconvenient. My client acted in self-defense, and continued detention is unjust.”
The silence that follows stretches like wire. My heart is in my throat.
Finally, the judge leans forward, his voice cool, measured.
“The request for reconsideration of bail is noted. However, given the defendant’s prior record and the seriousness of the current charge, bail is again denied.
The matter will proceed to trial. Evidence lists are to be exchanged in full by the end of this week. ”
The gavel cracks, final and merciless.
I break all over again.
Beside me, Kennedy mutters a curse under her breath and rubs my back in sharp, steady strokes, but it doesn’t stop the tears from spilling hot and fast down my cheeks.
I look at Easton. His jaw is clenched, eyes locked on mine. For one heartbeat, everything else falls away, and I know he wants to say the same words he mouthed last time.
The deputy yanks him to his feet, the chains rattling louder than anything else in the room. My sob catches in my throat.
As they lead him out, he looks back, just once, dark eyes locking instantly onto my growing belly.
“Why is this judge such a jerk?” Kennedy whispers as we exit the court room.
“I mean come on, Rick said there was evidence. Evidence Harley.” Kennedy is very invested in this whole case, and I don’t think she has anything else to do to keep her busy at the moment.
So she spends hours researching past cases and learning all the correct terminology.
It’s nice of her, but draining for me, because I never get a break.
Sometimes I just want to forget this whole mess and go back to the old Harley, the one who loved working at the newspaper agency and coming home to her fiancé. I know I can never go back to that part of my life, but sometimes facing my new reality is too daunting.
“I don’t know, seems like he has something against Easton. That’s all I can think of.” Kennedy shakes her head with a scowl as we stepped outside, the Florida sun beating down on us.
“Did you take the whole day off or just the morning?” Kennedy asks after turning the AC onto full blast inside her car.
“Just the morning, I have a few articles I need to edit though that are pressing. My boss said I could bring them home and work on them there if I wanted, he understands that coming into work with all the gossip has been hard on me and the baby.”
“Wanna swing by the office and pick it up?”
I nod and she fiddles with her phone before music starts playing through the speakers. We arrive at the office quickly, and I run inside, thank my boss for letting me work from home, then slide back into the passenger seat.
“Got it all?” Kennedy asks.
“Yep,” I nod. “Let’s go.”
The ride home is unusually quiet. Kennedy, queen of filling the silence, doesn’t even hum along to the music. I study her profile in the fading light, fingers picking at the corners of the paperwork in my lap.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
Kennedy lets out a long sigh. “Just thinking about Ethan. I keep replaying everything in my head, trying to figure out how I missed the signs. I guess I was so dazzled by the money he loved to throw around, the good looks, the way he could make a room spin around him. Oh, and his cologne.” She gives a short, humorless laugh. “God, I really loved his cologne.”
I rest a hand on my belly and glance out the window. “It doesn’t make you stupid to fall for someone. Do you think I’m stupid?”
Her head whips toward me, eyes flashing.
“Stupid for sticking by your fiancé’s side when he did nothing wrong?
No, Harley, I don’t. Did I think you were stupid for meeting up with him at a bar after only writing letters back and forth for a year?
Absolutely. I thought you’d lost your damn mind.
Did I think you were stupid for moving in with him right away?
Totally. But …” She shakes her head, her voice softening.
“Even someone who’s blind would be able to see how much that man loves you.
You didn’t gamble on a fantasy, Harls. You bet on love, and it paid off. You’d be stupid not to fight for that.”
The knot in my chest eases, just a little. I smile. It’s small and shaky, but real. “Thanks.”
She reaches across the console and squeezes my hand, her sharp nails pressing into my skin just enough to ground me. We drive the rest of the way home in silence, but it isn’t heavy anymore. It’s the kind of silence that feels safe.