Page 80 of Hymns of the Broken

Ash makes a sound that’s almost a curse. “You deserve better than that.”

Silas asks the other obvious question, and I know why he does. “And your dad?”

I take a breath, wishing I could make this answer simple. “He’s remarried. Has been for a while now. His new wife is… well, let’s just say we have different opinions.”

I let out a shaky laugh. “Honestly, it’s like my dad is a whole different person now. It feels like he changed so much; sometimes, I wonder if the dad I remember was ever real. He tries to call and check in, but it’s hard. I can’t see him as the man I looked up to anymore.” My voice falters, and for a second I feel naked in front of them, like they can see every bit of disappointment and grief I still haven’t let go of. “It’s like I’m supposed to fit into his new life. But I don’t. And as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that I… Well, most parental figures give me PTSD and make me uncomfortable now.”

Nobody says anything for a moment, and the noise of the surrounding crowd is just white noise. Then Jace nudges me, voice surprisingly gentle. “You got us, Sawyer. And we’re not going anywhere.”

Silas passes me a drink with a look of understanding. A lump forms in my throat, but I nod, letting the comfort settle in. Even if my family is broken and scattered, at least here, in this mess of a tour and chaos and loud music, I have something that almost feels like belonging.

JASPER

Nobody says much after Jace’s line, and I can tell it rattled all of us—Sawyer most of all. She sits a little quieter, shoulders tight, soda clutched in both hands, like its something to anchor her.

I watch her, just… watch her. Let the others fill the space with nervous jokes. Ash nudges my shoulder, muttering, “Bet Riot’s band screws up and blames the lights again. Five bucks says he breaks a drumstick showing off.”

I snort, but my attention is on her. She’s somewhere else in her head, chewing on the inside of her cheek, eyes unfocused. For once, I kept my mouth shut. Sometimes the only thing you can do is just be there.

I have some experience with broken families. I know the way it claws at you, how you think you’ll always be on the outside looking in. No wonder she clings to that feeling of being wanted—needed—like it’s oxygen. I get it.

I wish she’d let herself see what she’s got now.

The stage lights flicker, Riot’s band takes their places, and suddenly she’s alive again, just a flicker—eyes sharp, camera in hand, mouth soft with a secret smile.

I follow her gaze, see Riot’s eyes already on her, all that blonde hair wild under the stage lights. He grins—cocky, wolfish, and then just…hungry. He drums harder, plays louder, showing off for her. That crowd’s nothing; it’s all Sawyer.

Possessiveness twists heavy in my gut.

Yeah, she enjoys being watched. She deserves it.

But watching him watch her? I want to tear him apart.

Still…I’d give her anything if it meant she knows she’s wanted, chosen, not just tolerated, the way her family made her feel.

Perhaps I can let her play a little. For her. For that smile.

But if he ever actually puts his hands on her…

I’m not sure I’m as generous as I want to be.

Sawyer lifts her camera for a shot of Riot, but I can feel her noticing me, the way her gaze flickers back to where I’m sitting, like she’s waiting for a sign. Maybe she feels my eyes on her, or maybe she knows me by now—how I can’t ever seem to look away.

She looks over, finds me staring. Doesn’t look away. Just lifts her pierced brow, a half-smile tugging at her mouth—taunting, testing me. There’s a challenge in her eyes, like she wants to see if I’ll drag her away right now, if I’ll remind her who she belongs to.

Part of me wants to. But another part—one I’m still getting used to—knows she deserves this. The freedom. The feeling of being wanted by more than just me.

I can let her have that. Maybe just this once, I can share her attention. Let her experience what it’s like to be the center of someone’s world.

But I’m not sure if I could ever really share her touch.

That’s a line I’m not ready to cross.

She glances back at the stage, but I watch the flush in her cheeks—the way she bites her lip. She knows I’m watching her watch him. And she likes it.

Yeah, I’ll let her play. But at the end of the night, she’ll still be mine.

Chapter 15