Page 145 of Hymns of the Broken
A few minutes later, I try to move, but Jasper growls and pulls me tighter, burying his face in my hair. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”
“Someone’s clingy,” I tease, trying to wiggle free. Riot immediately snags my ankle under the covers.
“I heard movement. That means it’s officially time for pancakes,” Riot says, voice muffled in the pillow. “C’mon, Hellcat. Save me from dying of hunger.”
Jasper grunts, but his fingers slide up and down my thigh in lazy circles. “You’ll survive. She needs to recover. You two kept me up all damn night.”
“Liar,” I snort, nudging him with my hip. “You looked like you were having a pretty good time.”
Riot cackles, finally sitting up, hair wild and sticking out everywhere. “Yeah, Reign, don’t pretend you didn’t love every second—especially the part where—”
Jasper throws a pillow at his head before he can finish, and Riot dodges, grinning. “Violence! Typical.”
I giggle and finally roll out from between them, landing on the floor in a heap of oversized shirts and messy hair. Both of them watch me like I might try to escape.
I shoot them a smug look. “Last one to the kitchen has to make the coffee.”
Riot launches himself off the bed, stumbles over his jeans, and yelps. Jasper is slower, stretching, watching us both with that lazy predator’s grin. “I’ll just wait till you two destroy the kitchen, then come rescue you.”
I stick my tongue out and dart down the hall, Riot hot on my heels, both of us laughing as we dodge a stray drumstick and the mountain of sneakers by the door.
As soon as we round the corner into the kitchen, Ash is already there, sipping coffee and looking way too awake. He lifts an eyebrow, gaze flicking between the three of us, and a sly smile tugs at his mouth.
“Good morning, lovers,” Ash drawls. “Rough night?”
Riot leans in, stage-whispering, “Reign got a little emotional.”
Jasper strides in, ruffling his hair, voice bone dry. “Shut up, Riot. And make the coffee.”
I duck behind the counter, cheeks burning, but I can’t stop grinning. The kitchen fills up with noise—teasing, laughter, the familiar chaos of our messed-up little family.
For the first time, it feels easy. It feels as though we could make this work.
Jasper slides up behind me, hand at my lower back, voice just for me. “You okay?”
I nod, feeling the weight of his hand and Riot’s soft smile across the room. “Yeah. I’m excellent.”
I’m just feeling normal again—laughing at Ash’s sarcasm, stealing a mug of coffee from Riot—when my phone buzzes on the counter. Once. Twice. Then again and again, rapid-fire, vibrating loudly against the marble.
I frown—unknownnumber.
My stomach twists as I open the first text.
It’s a photo—Riot, Jasper, and me in the haunted house, his hand around my waist, my head tipped back in pleasure—Riot watching. The next one hits before I can even breathe. I’m sitting on Jasper’s bike in the garage, Riot’s on his knees as Jasper watches.
I scroll, fingers numb, dread creeping up my spine.
Another:all three of us in the pool, water beading on our skin, Jasper and Riot bracketing me on either side. The next: a blurry shot, but there’s no mistaking it. Riot kissing my neck as Jasper’s hand fists in my hair.
My breath catches, vision tunneling. The last text comes in just as I think I can’t take any more.
It’s from outside Jasper’s bedroom window—last night—the curtains barely parted, but the angle’s clear. Me, tangled between both of them, skin bare, Jasper’s head pressed to my neck, Riot’s hand at my hip. Whoever took it was close. So close.
Bile rises in my throat. My hands shake so badly I almost drop the phone.
Jasper’s voice cuts through the haze. “Sawyer? What’s wrong?”
I swallow, shoving the phone toward him and Riot. “Look. Someone’s been watching us. Following us.”
