Page 97 of Hymns of the Broken
The upstairs hallway is lined with doors, and I already know mine before he even tells me.
Dark walls, soft and matte, swallow the light. A massive bed with black sheets, messy and inviting. One ofhisguitars sits in the corner, waiting for a midnight confession. Dim lighting washes the space in warm shadow, and on the highest shelf, an old camera—my favorite kind—rests in a pool of gold, waiting just for me.
“You… set this up for me?” I ask, touching the edge of the blanket.
Jasper’s jaw flexes. “Yeah. But hopefully, you’ll spend most of your time in my room.” His gaze meets mine, hot and heavy, like a promise and a challenge in one breath.
Before I can respond, Riot’s voice comes from behind us. “Cool. So where’smyroom?”
Our heads turn.
Jace pops his head in. “You’re in the attic.” He grins, tongue between his teeth, trying not to laugh.
Ash smirks from behind him. “There’s a shed out back, actually. Verypunk rock.You’ll love it.”
“I’m serious,” Riot says, folding his arms. “Where am I staying?”
Jasper is silent for a beat too long.
Then Silas, bless him, calls up from the first floor, “Put him in the guest room across from hers!”
“Yeah,” Riot drawls, grinning at Jasper like a devil with a death wish. “I like that idea.”
Jasper stares him down. But he doesn’t argue.
He looks at me instead. And says, “Be ready by seven. We eat together here.”
Then he leaves.
Leaving Riot still watching me with a crooked smile. “Guess that means I’m staying for dinner.”
***
I barely unpacked when a knock hits the door.
I turn, already knowing.
Sure enough, Riot leans against the doorframe like he owns the entire fucking house—navy blue tee shirt clinging to his chest, tattoos practically flexing under the hallway light. His eyes are hooded, and he has a smirk curling his mouth that sends a rush straight through me.
“Need help finding where your panties go?” he teases, fingers tapping the door like he’s playing a rhythm only I can hear.
“Already in the trash,” I shoot back, refusing to give him the upper hand, even as my stomach flips.
His grin turns feral, eyes flashing. “Atta girl.”
He steps inside without waiting for an invitation; the door clicks shut behind him—a subtle claim, shutting out the rest of the world. The air between us shifts, immediately heavy with everything we haven’t said yet, everything that’s happened, and everything we want to do again.
For a long moment, he says nothing. Just looks around the room, taking in the dark walls, the enormous bed, the camera Jasper set out for me.
“You look good here,” he says as he shrugs, “in his space.”
The words should make me feel like a guest. Like an outsider sneaking into someone else’s story.
Instead… I feel like I belong. Like I’m right where I’m supposed to be… With both ofthemcircling, and neither willing to let me go.
He walks toward me, his body language pure confidence, hips rolling just a little with every step, and the energy between us coils tighter the closer he gets.
“But if he thinks he gets to keep you all to himself…”
