Page 19 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter nineteen

Theo

T he house settles into quiet around us, a kind of hush that feels like it belongs more to forests and late night summer porches than a suburban living room.

I lie on my back on the rug and a few pillows, one arm tucked behind my head, staring up at the ceiling fan that isn’t turning.

Moonlight filters in through the front window, turning everything into shades of soft gray.

The blanket covering my legs smells faintly of lavender and something sweet—sugar maybe. Cam.

Jamie’s to my right on the couch, curled up like a massive golden retriever who somehow believes he’s compact enough for couch life. Dane is sprawled across the recliner, long legs hooked over one arm, a pillow pressed against his chest like it might give him answers.

“Y’all still awake?” Jamie whispers.

Dane grunts. “Unfortunately.”

“Can’t sleep,” I mutter.

“No kidding. I can hear you thinking from over here,” Jamie teases.

“You can’t hear shit. You just like to talk when it’s dark,” Dane says.

Jamie lets out a low chuckle. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong, am I? About her?”

Silence stretches between us for a beat.

“We’re all feeling it,” Dane says finally.

Jamie exhales slowly. “She’s... different. Like there’s a bond.”

I shift slightly, staring harder at the ceiling, like maybe it’ll give me perspective. “I didn’t expect it. Didn’t want to expect it.”

“We swore we wouldn’t go down that road unless it was all of us,” Dane says. “No more chasing dead-end romances. Remember that disaster with Carly?”

Jamie groans. “She threw my boots out the window.”

“Because you made her a smoothie with kale,” Dane says, smirking.

“Kale is a superfood.”

“Kale tastes like wet lawn clippings.”

I let their bickering wash over me, but my mind keeps drifting back to Cam—to the curve of her smile even when she was clearly exhausted, to the way she tried so hard to clean up the house before we could see it. Her scent lingers in the air like it belongs here. Like she belongs here.

“She’s had it rough,” Dane says more quietly. “Losing her sister like that.”

Jamie’s voice softens. “Yeah. I remember hearing about that.”

“She and her twin were close,” Dane says. “Tight-knit. Losing someone like that... it doesn’t just leave a hole. It changes everything.”

Jamie lets out a breath. “That kind of loss—it stays with you. Makes it hard to open up again.”

“And yet here she is,” I murmur. “Trying.”

It hangs between us like a weight. Like a promise.

Jamie stretches out his legs and groans softly. “Remember when we used to talk about finding someone who could deal with all three of us?”

“You mean someone who wouldn’t run screaming after meeting Dane?” I offer.

“Or someone who wouldn’t melt under Jamie’s golden retriever eyes,” Dane shoots back.

“Hey! I’m charming,” Jamie protests.

“You’re a menace,” I say.

We lapse into easy laughter, the kind that only comes after years of knowing each other, of surviving the bullshit together. College nights spent on threadbare couches, jobs that pushed us too hard, plans scribbled on napkins about building something bigger, something we could all share.

And underneath it all, the unspoken wish for someone to share it with .

I close my eyes and listen to them breathing, to the soft rustle of blankets and the distant creak of the house settling. Jamie mumbles something about cinnamon rolls. Dane mutters a response too low to catch.

These two idiots. My brothers, not by blood but by choice. I wouldn’t be who I am without them.

And maybe—just maybe—this small-town life I’ve been pretending isn’t enough... maybe it is. If Cam stays. If she chooses us.

But those thoughts are too big for tonight. For now, I let them drift, and let the comfort of my pack hold me still.

Eventually, sleep takes me.

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t dream of leaving.