Page 20 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter twenty

Cam

T he scent of bacon curls through the air before I’m even fully awake.

For a moment, I forget where I am—I forget the hospital, the worry, the aching knot in my chest. For one glorious second, I’m back to the mornings when Gram would whistle through the kitchen, humming some tune from a record long since worn thin, flipping pancakes with that tiny smile she always wore like armor.

Then my eyes fly open.

Gram .

I bolt upright, heart hammering in my chest. My gaze darts around the room.

It’s mine, but not entirely. The sheets are still a little crumpled from my restless sleep, and the sunlight is streaming in through the gauzy curtains like honey.

Everything is familiar and unfamiliar at once.

But Gram isn’t downstairs. She’s in the hospital. Resting. Healing. Alive .

“Cam?”

Jamie’s voice is soft, just outside the door.

It opens a second later and he steps inside with a tray in his hands, the kind with little fold-out legs.

There’s a plate piled with bacon and eggs, toast cut into perfect triangles, and a steaming mug of coffee.

My favorite mug, the one with the little faded bee on the side.

“Hey,” he says, walking slowly so nothing spills. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Your gram is okay. Still at the hospital, resting. Dane called the nurses first thing this morning.”

I exhale, shoulders slumping with the release of that held breath. “Thank you.”

“We figured you could use a slow morning. Bacon in bed kind of morning.”

I smile despite myself. “You made this?”

Jamie lifts his chin with mock pride. “With Theo and Dane supervising. Well, Dane mostly paced, and Theo grumbled about the lack of loose leaf tea.”

I laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “Come in. Please. I’d love the company.”

Jamie sets the tray down on my lap and then disappears for half a second before returning with a mug and a glass of orange juice. He takes the chair beside my bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

A few minutes later, Theo and Dane show up, each bearing their own mugs—coffee for Dane, of course, and a porcelain teacup for Theo, complete with a tiny saucer that makes me snort.

“That’s Gram’s fancy set,” I tease.

Theo sips serenely. “It was the only tea in the house. I’m not drinking it out of a chipped Halloween mug that says 'Witch, Please.'“

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Dane says, settling on the foot of my bed.

We all laugh. The morning stretches around us, golden and soft, full of the clink of mugs and the low murmur of easy conversation. I pick at the toast, then take a few bites of bacon. Jamie tries to steal a piece and I slap his hand away. He grins like I handed him a trophy.

“So,” I say, mouth half-full. “This is unexpected. Breakfast with my landlords.”

“Technically,” Dane says, reaching for the orange juice, “we're roommates now. You gave us a place to sleep last night. We're returning the favor.”

“I could get used to this,” I murmur, then immediately flush.

Theo arches an eyebrow over the rim of his teacup but says nothing. Jamie leans back in his chair, stretching like a cat in a sunbeam.

“We like taking care of you, Cam,” Jamie says, tone softer. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

The warmth that blooms in my chest has nothing to do with the sun.

We talk more—about nothing and everything.

Dane tells a story about a broken pipe in one of their rental units that turned into a five-hour ordeal, involving a plumber with a pet parrot and a very suspicious set of tools.

Theo adds dry commentary. Jamie keeps interrupting with exaggerated sound effects.

It feels like something sacred. Something rare. I soak it in like sunlight.

Eventually, Dane’s phone buzzes. He checks it, frowns, then stands.

“Business call,” he says. “Gotta take it.”

“You mean escape the tea party,” Jamie calls after him.

“I’m a grown man, Jamie. I don’t have to explain my tea aversion to you.”

Theo raises his cup in silent salute. Dane shoots him a look before ducking out.

Jamie turns back to me. “You good?”

I nod. “Yeah. Thanks to you three.”

He nudges the tray toward me. “Eat while it’s still warm. We’ll be here.”

And somehow, I know that’s true. That no matter how complicated things get, how much my life keeps shifting under my feet—they’ll be here.

I hope so, anyway, as I look to the empty space that Dane left behind.