Page 152 of Hymns of the Broken

I let out a broken laugh, wiping my face. “That’s the thing, Riot. I’ve always felt like damage—like maybe all I’ll ever be is what other people left behind.”

He looks me dead in the eye, voice steady as a vow. “You aren’t damaged. Youaren’t broken. You’re the strongest fucking person I know. And I mean it—you ever need someone to lean on, to fight for you, to believe in you when you can’t—I’m right here.”

I don’t trust myself to speak. I squeezehishand, letting the warmth settle into all the cracks I thought would never heal.

For the first time in forever, I let someone see it all—the mess, the scars, the truth. And Riot doesn’t flinch. He stays.

I squeeze Riot’s hand, and for a long minute, all the words in the world just drain away. The silence isn’t awkward; it’s heavy and kind, wrapping me up and letting me breathe. For once, I don’t feel like I have to fill the space with apologies.

The door creaks, and I look up, expecting Macee or Ash. Instead, it’s Jasper. His eyes flick from my tear-stained face to Riot’s hand on my arm, and something in his expression softens, but also gets fiercer like he’d fight anyone, even his own shadow, just to keep me from hurting a second longer.

He doesn’t speak. Just crosses the floor, lowering himself down across from Riot so he’s level with me, knees bent, boots squeaking against the tile. He takes my free hand in both of his, rough fingers curling gently and safely around mine, anchoring me between them.

The three of us exist for a moment. The bathroom is full of steam, the scent of Jasper’s soap, the distant hush of voices down the hall, and the warmth of their hands on mine.

Riot finally breaks the quiet, his voice gentle but sure. “She told me about everything, Jasper. Her family. Blake. All of it.”

Jasper’s thumb strokes over my knuckles. His voice is a rasp, deeper than I’m used to. “You don’t have to say a word if you don’t want to. Not to us. But if you do, we’re here. Both of us.”

Tears sting my eyes again, but I don’t look away. Not this time. “I’m just so tired of being scared. Tired of feeling like I’m the mess everyone else has to clean up.”

Jasper shakes his head, his grip tightening just a little, just enough to ground me. “You’re not a mess, Sawyer. Not to me. I don’t care about the past. All I care about is right now. You have me. Riot. Hell, the whole band, if you want them.”

I let out a shaky laugh. It feels like a release, like something in my chest finally unclenching. “You guys… I don’t even know what to say.”

Riot squeezes my fingers, leaning in. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let us be here. Let us carry some of it.”

Jasper’s eyes find mine, steady and stubborn. “You’re not alone, baby. Not anymore. We’re not going anywhere.”

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s full of warmth, of belonging, of something I’m only just starting to believe is real. Surrounded bythem, held steady by boththeirhands, I feel the weight on my chest lighten—just a little, just enough.

For the first time in a long time, I let myself lean back, close my eyes, and trust that maybe—just maybe—I don’t have to do any of this alone.

I’m wrung out, heavy with everything I just let spill. The bathwater’s gone lukewarm, my fingers pruned, but I’m still not ready to face the world outside this door. All I want is to curl up somewhere dark and soft, pretend for a little while that none of the mess outside can touch me.

I stand up, water trailing down my legs, and wrap myself in one of Jasper’s oversized towels. Riot turns his back to give me privacy, but Jasper just keeps hold of my hand, steadying me as I step out. They wait, silent sentinels, while I tug on one of Jasper’s shirts and a pair of shorts I keep in his drawer.

“It’s not even late, but I just want to lie down for a while.”

Jasper brushes damp hair off my cheek. “Then you do that. We’ll stay.”

Riot grins, the spark back in his eyes. “Not like we’re going anywhere. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t run off and join the circus.”

I manage a soft laugh, exhaustion tugging at every limb. We make our way to Jasper’s room, the three of us moving like a single tangled unit. Jasper pulls back the covers, and I crawl in, burying my face in his pillow. He slides in on one side, Riot on the other—no questions, no hesitation.

They don’t just lie beside me—they curl around me, with one of Jasper’s arms hooked around my waist, Riot’s hand tracing lazy patterns up and down my back. Their warmth seeps into my bones, chasing away the last shivers of cold.

For a while, we’re all silent. Jasper’s breath is steady at my ear, Riot’s heartbeat a slow, solid drum under my palm.

Riot breaks the silence, voice soft. “You want us to talk about anything specific?Orjust...talk?”

I close my eyes, letting their voices fill up all the empty places in my head.

Jasper squeezes my hip, his lips at my temple. “You don’t have to be okay, Sawyer. You can be tired, sad, mad at the whole world.”

Riot hums. “Or we can talk about literally anything else. I’ve got stories from the tour that’ll make you laugh, or at least roll your eyes.”

I let out a shaky breath, safe between them. “Just… talk to me. Tell me anything. I don’t want to feel alone.”