Page 188 of Hymns of the Broken

I let myself breathe them in. Riot’s cologne. Jasper’s warmth. The weight of their bodies like a shield around me. A fortress made of devotion and choice.

Something in me softens.

The ache is still there, but it’s quieter now. No longer screaming that I’m broken, too much, too ruined to be loved. The shame has started to loosen its grip, making space for something else. Something like healing.

My body tenses as last night flickers back. My confession… All the raw, bleeding pieces of me laid bare in the dark. I was sure they’d reject me. I was sure they’d see the worst of me and decide I wasn’t worth it.

But they didn’t.

They stayed.

They held me.

They saw me, and they chose me.

Not in spite of my damage—but because of the way I survived it.

A lump forms in my throat, but I breathe through it.

I squeeze Jasper’s hand, just to anchor myself in this moment. He squeezes back, still half-asleep, thumb brushing mine. Riot groans into my hair and mutters something about not letting me leave the bed until at least noon.

I almost laugh. And cry. Maybe both.

This is what it feels like to survive. To be seen. To be wanted without having to earn it through perfection or performance. To be held like I’m already enough.

I blink up at the ceiling, heart racing. I’m not whole yet, but I’m starting to believe I could be.

Jasper’s eyes open—stormy, still half-asleep. He watches me for a long moment, then cups my cheek. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. I think…I think I am.”

Riot grumbles, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck. “Good. ‘Causewe’re not doneproving it to you.”

Riot’s words hum under my skin as I slip out of bed and throw on one of his shirts. I watch him stretch, tattoos shifting as he cracks his neck, then leans over to steal a sleepy kiss from my lips. Jasper comes up next to me placing his hand on my waist, thumb drawing lazy circles, grounding me. I feel like I could stand here between them forever and never fall.

But there’s a rumble of voices downstairs—a reminder that the world is still spinning, even if mine is tilted on its axis.

Riot grabs a shirt, then hands me a clean pair of shorts to go with the shirt of his I’m wearing. “You can keep that. It looks way better on you anyway.” He gives me a quick kiss again.

I grin, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Thanks.”

Riot winks at me as he rakes a hand through his messy hair, flashing a cocky, still-sleepy smile. “You ready to face the masses, Hellcat? Or should we keep you all to ourselves?”

“Not a chance,” I mutter. “Macee would riot.”

“That’s my job,” he jokes, and Jasper groans at the pun.

We head out together, moving down the hall and stairs as a pack—me between them, and for once, not feeling small or fragile or out of place. I can smell coffee, bacon, and something sweet drifting up from the kitchen. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since—God, who even knows?

As we round the corner, I see everyone already crowded around the dining table. Macee’s perched on one end, legs folded up in a pretzel, eyes bright as she tells some wild story. Ash and Jace are arguing over the last cinnamon roll, and Silas looks like he hasn’t slept in a decade but still manages a nod in our direction.

But there are more people I don’t know—I think it might be the other guys from Riot’s band.

Riot steps up, casual as ever, and sweeps an arm out. “Alright, formal introduction time—Sawyer, meet Dex, Shade, and Milo. The actual brains behind our band.”

Shade gives a lazy salute, his hair falling over one eye. Milo flashes a small, almost shy smile. “We’ve heard a lot about you,” Milo says quietly. “Mostly from Macee.”

Macee waves her fork in the air. “All good things.”