Page 238 of Hymns of the Broken

And there she is—Sawyer. My girl. My everything.

Her dress is black lace, sheer in all the places that drive me crazy, the skirt fluttering around her ankles like shadows. Her hair’s curled showing off the colors in her hair perfectly. It lays glossy, wild around her shoulders. She looks like something out of a dream and a nightmare at the same time. Unbelievably beautiful. Unbelievablyours.

I can’t breathe. For a second, I forget where I am—forget Macee, forget Silas, even forget Riot at my side. All I see is her.

Riot finally exhales, low and shaky, and mutters, “Fuck, she’s gonna ruin us.”

She walks up the rocky path toward us, eyes bright, smile trembling and huge, and I realize I’m grinning like a fucking idiot, tears burning the backs of my eyes.

Sawyer stops in front of us, cheeks flushed, hands shaking just a little. Riot takes her left hand, I take her right, and Silas stands before us, suddenly solemn.

He clears his throat, unfolding a crumpled sheet of paper. “Alright, lovebirds.Thisis the part where I’m supposed to say something about fate and forever, but you idiots wrote yourownvows, so let’s skip the cheesy stuff.”

Sawyer laughs, the sound like a promise. Macee’s camera clicks quietly, catching every second.

Riot goes first, voice rough, eyes shining. “Sawyer, I didn’t know what it meant to belong somewhere until you found me. You’re my best friend, my wildest dream, and my favorite mess. I’ll spend forever loving you.”

Sawyer wipes her eyes, laughing through tears. “You’re already impossible, Riot.”

I swallow hard, words thick in my throat. “Sawyer, you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense in my whole fucked-up life. You make the world feel like somewhere I want to stay. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone. I promise to be yours—completely, always, no matter what.”

She turns to me, eyes shining, squeezing my hand. “Jasper, you’re my home. Riot, you’re my light. You two are everything I never knew I needed. I promise to love you both, every day, in every way, for the rest of my life.”

Silas grins, tucking away his notes. “Alright, by the power vested in me by the great state of the internet—and because you’re both idiots if you ever let her go—I now pronounce you… something I don’t have words for.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Go on. Kiss her. Both of you.”

We don’t need telling twice. Riot dips in first, pressing his forehead to hers, kissing her slowly. Then I pull her close and kiss her like it’s the first and last time I’ll ever get to, the mountains and the sun and the whole damn world holding us up.

Sawyer’s Epilogue

TWO YEARS LATER

I hang up with Macee, a grin lingering on my lips as I set my phone aside. She promised my latest shots of the guys from our home interview would make the front page of Darklight Media. Even after all this time, it still feels surreal—my art, my life, all wrapped up with the two men I love most in the world.

In the call’s background, I’d caught Silas’s voice using the tone he only uses with her—followed by Macee’s soft laugh. Definitely together. But then Jace piped up with something shamelessly flirty, Ash cutting in with a line that had even me raising an eyebrow, and instead of shutting them down, Macee just laughed again…

I’m not saying anything, but if you asked me point-blank, I’d bet good money there’s a lot more than friendship happening between those four—and whatever it is, they’re sure as hell not telling the rest of us.

When I reach the hallway, I notice the house is too quiet, which usually means trouble, or at the very least, a mess to clean up. I wander downstairs, stretching my back, one hand absentmindedly drifting to the bump growing beneath my shirt. Baby number two already likes to make their presence known.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs I hear a soft ’meow’. I look to the right seeing our tortie cat, Coraline, lounging on the back of the couch and I head over to give her some head scratches. The guys surprised me with her two weeks after we moved intogether. I thought for sure they would forget that I told them I was getting a cat, but they didn’t. They found her at a local shelter, she was sick and needing a family, so they brought her home. She’s been perfect, even with her ’tortitude’. Some people don’t believe that’s a thing but she has proven that it absolutely is.

It still amazes me that the chaos we used to live in—tour buses, sound checks, late-night shows—has somehow found its rhythm here. Her Last Confessional and Reckless Saints still tour, still own the stage like they were born for it, but now they plan their routes together. One schedule. One family. The music didn’t get smaller, but the space between us did.

A sudden splash echoes from outside, followed by the familiar sound of Riot’s laughter. I make my way to the sliding door, squinting against the sunlight flooding the patio. The pool shimmers, blue and gold, sunlight reflecting off the ripples.

Riot is surfacing from a dramatic dive, shaking water from his wild blonde hair like a dog. But he’s already on the move—underwater again, heading straight for Jasper and Wren.

Jasper stands in the shallow end, our daughter perched on his hip. She’s all legs and mischief at one year old, her blue eyes trained on the water with that look of delighted suspense. Jasper brushes her wild, golden hair behind her ear, and I get a flash back to the day she was born, her tiny hand gripping Jasper’s thumb, her hair somehow already a riot of sun-bleached curls. The very first thing Riot did was claim victory in their ridiculous bet over who’d “knock me up first,” claiming that blonde hair was all the proof he’d ever need. Jasper had rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue.

Wren squeals as Riot shoots up from the water right in front of them, shouting, “Boo!” She throws her head back, laughing with her whole body, reaching for him. Riot sweeps her into his arms and spins her in a dizzy circle, her laughter ringing out over the water, infectious and wild.

I take a seat on the warm edge of the pool, letting my feet dangle in. “Mommy! Mommy!” Wren giggles, splashing toward me, arms open wide. Riot follows, still holding her,and plops down next to me. He leans over, kissing my forehead, dripping water everywhere.

Jasper makes his way over, water beading on his tattooed shoulders. He leans in, kisses me slowly, his palm finding my belly and holding it like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “How’s my girl?” he asks softly.

I smile, leaning my head against his. “Happy. All of us. Even the one who keeps kicking me from the inside.”

Wren wiggles out of Riot’s grasp and crawls into my lap, her arms winding around my neck. Nestling in, like she’s ready for a nap.

I look at Jasper, at Riot, at our wild, perfect daughter and the new life growing inside me, and I think about how, for most of my life, I never believed I’d be able to give my children the kind of home I dreamed about as a kid. The type with love that doesn’t leave. Laughter that doesn’t fade. A family that stays.

But here it is.

I don’t have to chase it. It’s right here—laughing in the sunlight, holding me close.

The End