Page 16 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter sixteen

Cam

S team curls around me as I stand beneath the hot spray of the shower, the water cascading over my skin like a balm, like maybe—just maybe—it can wash everything away.

The panic of the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic still clinging to my senses.

The quiet, brave smile Gram gave me as they wheeled her down the hall.

The ache that bloomed in my chest when I realized just how much I still need her.

Even Eric’s betrayal lingers like an oil slick in the back of my mind—shiny, toxic, impossible to ignore. His voice, so casual in its cruelty. His hands on someone else. The shock of it, and worse, the casual invitation. Like I didn’t matter. Like I was just another bullet point on his career plan.

I tip my head back, letting the water hit my scalp, slide over my face, soak into the corners of my mind.

I breathe in the steam, thick with lemon verbena shampoo and the soft, sweet vanilla soap Gram always kept in the cabinet.

I hadn't realized how much I'd missed that scent until it hit me like a warm memory.

Gram’s going to be okay, I remind myself. The doctor said so. Just a scare, not a goodbye. But still, fear lingers in my bones, heavier than it should be.

I linger longer than I need to, letting my fingers trail over the old tile walls.

The grout lines where I once helped Gram scrub with a toothbrush during spring cleaning.

The crack in the porcelain soap dish I made worse by accident and swore her cat did it.

Being back here is like slipping on an old coat—one that still fits, even if I don’t recognize the person who wore it.

I wrap myself in a thick, fluffy towel. It smells like line-dried cotton and rosewater, like Gram and sun-drenched afternoons. My hair drips slowly down my back as I step out into the hallway.

The soft thud of my feet on the hardwood echoes a little too loudly, and I almost hum to break the silence. I round the corner, heading for my bedroom, when—

I stop.

Dane is there. Leaning against the wall just outside the bathroom, arms crossed, a quiet sentinel.

My breath catches in my throat. My heart leaps into my chest like a startled bird.

“Oh!” I clutch the towel tighter. “Sorry—I didn’t think anyone was...”

He straightens slowly, his posture calm, composed. His eyes, though—his eyes do a brief, wild flick downward before returning politely to my face. He clears his throat, expression unreadable.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. His voice is deep, steady, with a hint of smoke. “Just wanted to check if you were alright.”

The words settle into me with unexpected warmth. My pulse is still jumping, but not entirely from surprise.

“I’m okay,” I say softly, wishing my voice didn’t sound quite so breathless.

He doesn’t speak right away, and in the pause, the space between us seems to shrink.

My omega instincts are humming again—quiet, tentative.

His scent is rich and grounding, like cedar and worn leather and something just barely spicy beneath it all.

It calls to me in a way that makes my skin prickle.

I force myself not to shift closer, even though part of me aches to do just that.

The tension stretches, thin and fragile as spun sugar.

Then Dane blinks slowly, and his voice is lower when he says, “Supper’s ready. We didn’t wreck the kitchen. Much.”

A smile curls unbidden at the corner of my mouth. “That’s comforting.”

He smiles back, just slightly, then dips his chin and steps away. “Get dressed. We’re not letting you skip a meal.”

I watch his retreating form, the line of his shoulders taut but relaxed in the way only someone confident and completely in control can be.

I exhale slowly, the heat from the shower suddenly matched by something else entirely—the warmth blooming across my skin, the way my chest feels tight and achy in a way that’s not unpleasant.

I pad back toward my room, the house smelling like grilled cheese and something spicy—maybe paprika or chili flake. Laughter floats up the stairs, low and easy. Jamie, probably. Maybe Theo. Gram would be thrilled to hear them filling the house.

And she’s okay, I remind myself again. She’s going to be okay.

Still, I press a hand to my belly as it lets out a low growl, the hunger twining around the ache I didn’t know I’d been carrying. I don’t want to be alone tonight. But I don’t want to fall into something just because I’m grateful, either.

Because something about Dane’s presence felt like more than comfort. It felt like being seen—and wanted—and resisted, all at once. That unspoken tension, the way his scent held mine for one beat longer than it should’ve. The way I wanted to lean in, but didn’t.

I shake my head and close my bedroom door gently behind me.