Broken Compass
Page 1
Broken Compass
a Reverse Harem Romance
Jo Raven
Contents
Blurb
Music Playlist
Beginning
I. Book I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
II. Book II
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
III. Book III
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
Second Epilogue
Jo Says
What Comes Next
Acknowledgments
Author Bio
Other books by Jo Raven
Have you read the INKED BROTHERHOOD series?
Blurb
What if you were in love not just with one, not just with two, but with three hot guys?
And what if they wanted you back?
There are three of them. Three boys.
We’re friends. Neighbors. Our lives are linked through disaster, fear and pain.
I love them all. Not sure I can live without them. Can we just stay friends?
Can we ignore the desire flaring when we’re around each other?
Can I kiss one and not the other?
I can’t choose.
Don’t want to choose.
And I’m not sure they can, either.
This story will either end up in heartache, or as any story should: in a happy ending.
Love is not a road. It’s a country. A sprawling galaxy.
Love has no compass. No rules. No limits.
Love is a universe. Lose yourself in it.
*** Warning for possible triggers and dark themes ***
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JO RAVEN
Copyright © Jo Raven 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover design: Booming Covers by Clarissa Wild
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Music Playlist
To listen to this playlist online, click here
“Are you gonna be my girl?” by Jet
“Our Darkness” by Anne Clark
“Lacrymosa” by Evanescence
“Supergirl (radio edit)” by Anna Naklab feat. Alle Farben & YOUNOTUS
“Somewhere I belong” by Linking Park
“Daydreamer” by Adele
“Wolves” by Selena Gomez, Marshmello
“Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap
“Loud Love” by Soundgarden
“Come with me now” by Kongos
“Disposable Teens” by Marilyn Manson
“Seven Nation Army” by Melanie Martinez
“It’s all your fault” by Pink
“Savior” by Iggy Azalea, Quavo
“Crazy Baby” by Joan Osborne
“The Bitter End” by Placebo
“Stay with me baby” by Karise Eden
“All of me” by Boyce Avenue
Beginning
Sometimes you think you know what life has in store. But you’re wrong. Life has a great sense of humor, but perversely it likes to feed on tragedy and pain.
Your tragedy.
Your pain.
Your confusion and agony.
It will hit you where you least expect it, with all the force of a wrecking ball, right where it hurts the most, and then wink until you see the joke. The big, fat cosmic joke that’s been played on you. Doesn’t it make you feel special?
Life is the embodiment of irony. Don’t forget that. So is love. Love is even worse. Love burns you down to the ground and dances in the ashes.
And this story I’m about to tell you, it proves just that. Life hurts. It burns and aches, until you learn to love the flames.
But love… love is everything.
Book I
Before
“Whatever happens here, trust your heart. It’s as true as any compass.”
Dean Koontz, Odd Interlude
Chapter One
Sydney
I’m fire. I burn through life. The hot element manifests in the red of my hair, the gold of my freckles, my preference for red Converse shoes and yellow sweaters.
It also manifests in my tendency to screw up every good thing, to burn everything down in my path, like Shiva, the destroyer. I hide it as best I can. It’s my one big secret.
But I’m not really fooling anyone. Not even my two neighbors that I’ve been trying to befriend since moving into this apartment. I have to try harder. Make a better show of being normal. Just your average teenage girl, unassuming student and law-abiding citizen, with a penchant for angsty anime and club dancing.
And for hunks-next-door.
But that’s off-topic.
Get better at pretending. That’s what I need to be thinking about. I mean, it’s no wonder I’m sitting all alone on the stairs on this warm summer evening, hugging my knees, sucking on a lollypop and watching as a stranger knocks on Nate’s door.
It’s early evening, and it’s dim in the stairwell where I’m sitting, but the single bulb hanging over the landing gilds the hair of the young man standing there, head bowed, a duffel bag thrown over one big shoulder.
I lean forward, folding my arms over my knees, sucking thoughtfully on my sugary treat, trying to discern his face, but the light over Nate’s door is too dim for that.
Nate is my neighbor. Lives with his parents, he’s roughly my age, and goes to my school. I hold my breath, waiting for him to open the door.
Nate is hot.
And a floor below him lives my other crush—I mean, neighbor. His name is West, and he’s good friends with Nate.
Two attractive, dark-haired boys. These are the two guys I’m trying to befriend. And don’t get me wrong, they seem to like me. They hang out with me sometimes, have my back at school.
Is it real, though? Are we really friends?
They don’t seem to burn when they touch me, so that’s good, right? I haven’t screwed that up yet, this budding friendship—but how long before I do?
Nate’s door opens, spilling bright yellow light on the landing, jerking me out of my dark thoughts. I sit up straighter for a better view as he steps out, th
e sight of his tall figure twisting something in my chest. It feels like sadness. Or joy.
I don’t know why. It makes no sense. Friendship shouldn’t feel like that, should it?
Nate’s dark brown hair gleams in the yellow light as he approaches the blond guy. He has a few inches on him, and I stare at the way his brows create shadows over his eyes. He says something to the stranger, then pats his arm.
The blond lifts his head, and the light glints on metal. Piercings, I think, and his profile is indistinct from this angle but seems somehow beautiful. Symmetrical. Strong. A square jaw and intense brows.
Who is he?
And why does Nate gesture for him to come inside the apartment and close the door behind them both?
He never said anything about a visitor coming to stay over. Was this an unexpected turn of events I happened to witness?
He didn’t look surprised, though. Nate, I mean. He came out to talk to this guy as if he’d been waiting for him. Why didn’t he tell me he had a guest staying over?
Then again, like I said, I don’t even know if we’re real friends. It’s not like I tell him everything, so why should he?
Trust issues. I have them in spades. It’s no big secret. I trust no one, not anymore, not even Nate and West.
And maybe I’m not the only one. What a surprise.
“What’s up?” West braces a strong hand on the locker next to mine as he checks his phone. He’s not even looking at me, but I know he’s waiting for my answer.
I study his handsome face, olive skin stretched over strong cheekbones, long dark lashes over light blue eyes, a light scruff on his square jaw, and shoulders wide enough to rival Nate’s. They make girls go crazy. The shoulders, the linebacker body, the soft mouth and perpetual frown.
West is… intense. There’s no better word to describe the way he focuses on each task, from homework, to cooking—yeah, he cooks—to talking about the future.
Or looking at me.
He looks at me like he memorizes my face every single time, so I’m kinda glad he isn’t looking now, letting me get my fill.
When he finally glances up, I quickly turn away. “Syd?”
“Oh, nothing much.” I take out my books of the next classes and stuff them into my backpack. “You know. The usual.”
He runs his tongue over his lips and glances again down at his phone. “Cleaning the apartment?”
“What of it?” I shrug. I clean up in case Mom comes home and finds it like that. “Not a crime, is it?”
“Not to me. But you could come over, hang out with me.”
I close my locker, shooting him a smile. “Yeah?” He rarely offers, rarely seems interested in meeting with me outside of school.
“Yeah. Your folks never seem to be home anyway.”
It’s my turn to tense. And he doesn’t even notice. He’s engrossed in whatever he’s seeing on his phone.
I chew on my lip. “West?”
“Hm.”
“Someone important?”
“What?”
I nod at his phone. “Is that someone important? Should I leave you to it?”
My heart is pounding at the thought it could be a girl. Would he tell me about it? We’re just friends, sort of, and the guy turns heads wherever he goes. I’ve braced for this moment since I met him.
But he just puts the phone away into his back pocket and gives me a crooked grin. “Nah. Come on, we’ll be late for class.”
He turns, expecting me to follow him, and I have to run to keep up with his long strides. Such are the problems of short girls who hang out with tall guys.
“Hey, do you know who’s staying at Nate’s?” I ask as we enter the classroom.
“What?” He blinks at me, dark brows drawn together. I swear, this guy will have a permanently creased forehead by the time he turns twenty. “Staying at Nate’s?”
“Yeah.”
“And how would you know someone is staying there?”
Um. Because I saw the guy go in and not come out again? Not that I stayed up all night checking. But I don’t sleep all that much, and I stayed on the stairs for a long time after, playing games on my phone, so… Let’s just say that I’m pretty sure he didn’t leave during the night.
I shrug in reply.
By then West has taken a seat and pulled out his books, arranging his pens beside them in a neat row. He’s thinking. I can see it in the tense line of his mouth. The neatness of his desk is just normal West.
I take my seat beside him and dump my book and notebook on my desk, then fish around inside my bag for a pen.
Eventually I snag one from West’s desk just as the teacher walks in. “Did you read the chapter we were supposed to read?”
I’m not particularly good at literature. And I was too preoccupied with Nate’s visitor to focus on studying this morning.
“Nate told me his dad has been looking for a roommate,” he says instead.
A stare at him. “You’re kidding me.” But West still looks thoughtful. “You’re serious. Where are they going to put him?”
“They have an extra room. And they need the money.”
“I see.” I try to ignore the hurt deep inside at the knowledge that Nate told West all this and mentioned none of it to me. Then again, they’ve known each other longer. “Maybe I should get a roommate, too.”
He shoots me a narrow look. “Money problems?”
“No, I just thought…” I shake my head. “Ah, never mind. Stupid idea.”
“What did you think? Tell me.”
I’m so tempted to do just that. But of course I can’t. “Nothing. Mom wouldn’t like the idea of a roommate anyway.”
I think.
What I really thought, though, was that if I had a roommate, then maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely.
“Catching the bus, Smalls?” Nate asks from behind me.
“Whoa.” Hand pressed dramatically to my chest, I spin around to face him. “Almost gave me a heart attack.”
He grins, honey-colored eyes crinkling at the corners, a dimple flashing in his cheek. His hair flops over his forehead, and he reaches up to push it back, mouthwatering biceps flexing. “So?”
“So what?” I mutter, then realize I’m still staring at his biceps and look hastily away. “Oh, um, right. I think I’ll walk.”
“Then I’ll walk with you.”
I shrug, pretending not to care, though I’m so very grateful for his presence. See, there’s a group of boys who like picking on me, cornering me—Theo and his gang—and they haven’t bothered me ever since Nate and West took me under their wing.
Truth is, I don’t know why they did—take me under their wing, that is. I steal glances at Nate as we walk out of the school gate and turn right down the road, in the general direction of our neighborhood.
He’s as tall as West, but he easily matches my pace, shuffling his long legs to slow his strides.
As we cross the street, he grabs my backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “Too heavy for you,” he says simply, and I nod, without speaking, not trusting my voice, my eyes suddenly hot.
Where West is intense and often lost in thought, Nate pays attention, checks to make sure we’re on the same page with every step we take. He’s so nice to me, and it’s dangerous because I crave that. The thought that someone cares about me.
No idea what I’d have done if not for the both of them. They don’t know it, probably wouldn’t care if they did, but they saved me. In so many ways.
But they don’t owe me, I need to remember that. I’m the one who owes them.
It should bother me. It does bother me.
Pressing my mouth into a tight line, I regret letting him help me with my backpack, owing him yet another debt, and I hate that he reminded me of it.
Not that I could hate Nate. God, no way. If anything, I…
Know what? No. Not going there. I look down as I put one foot in front of the other, staring at my dusty converse and trying to keep my thoughts on st
raight. I have enough on my plate without complicating things with strange feelings and hopes.
And as a reminder… “I hear you got a roommate?”
Nate stumbles to a stop, my backpack falling from his shoulder and hitting the ground. “What?”
“Don’t lie to me,” I mutter darkly.
Enough lies.
“It’s not… Not lying, dammit.” He lifts my backpack, swings it back over his shoulder, scowling at the road ahead. He rarely looks unhappy, but oh boy, he does now. “West told you, didn’t he?”
I shrug.
“I didn’t know about the ad until yesterday.” He hasn’t taken another step, and I linger beside him, unsure about the darkness in his gaze. Yeah, this sure isn’t like the Nate I know. “Jane said we need the money.”
Jane. That’s what he calls his mom. I’ve always found it kinda weird. Maybe cute?