Page 21 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter twenty-one

Dane

T he hallway outside Cam's room is quiet, but I can still hear the low murmur of voices and the occasional sound of laughter. It grates against my nerves. Not because I don’t want to hear it—hell, that sound has been the best part of the morning—but because I had to step away.

The phone call had come in just as Theo was making some smug comment about tea and Jamie was gearing up for another round of teasing.

I couldn’t ignore it. Not when it was the contractor from the Bayview project, the one that’s been pulling at the edge of my thoughts for months now.

It’s a big job, bigger than anything we’ve done here in Starling Grove. And it’s out of town.

Out of this life.

The call confirms what I already knew. They’re ready to move forward. And they want me there, in person, in a week.

My fingers drum against the armrest of the old chair I’ve commandeered in the hallway. I’m still sitting in the shadows, away from the soft morning sun streaming in through the window. The warmth in that room back there with Cam and the guys—it feels miles away now.

Cam .

She’s the wrench in this whole operation, the unexpected hitch in my otherwise clean break. She shouldn’t matter. But she does. More than I want to admit.

The door creaks and I glance up just as Cam steps out of her room, coffee mug in hand. She sees me, pauses, then walks over with a tilt of her head.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I lie, then gesture to the chair beside mine. “Just needed some quiet.”

She sits in the other old chair, pulling her knees up a little and resting her mug on her thigh. The air between us is easy, but it hums with something unspoken.

“Starling Grove never used to be this quiet,” she says after a beat. “When Zae and I were kids, we ran this neighborhood. Roller skates. Sidewalk chalk. Lemonade stands that sold more rocks than drinks.”

I chuckle. “Sounds like a racket.”

She smiles, but there’s a sadness in it. “It was. But it was good. Safe. I always thought I’d get out and do something big. Go places. And I did, for a while. Job, city, love.”

Her voice falters and I don’t say anything. Just wait.

“I was engaged,” she says. “To a guy named Eric. He was smart, ambitious... charismatic.”

I grunt. “Sounds like a prick.”

She huffs a laugh, then nods. “Turns out, yeah. Walked in on him with his secretary. He asked if I wanted to join.”

My grip tightens on the armrest. “What an absolute piece of garbage.”

She glances over at me, surprised by the heat in my tone. Hell, I’m surprised too.

“Thanks,” she says, voice quieter. “Everyone told me to keep it professional, to think about the optics, not make a scene. I threw the ring at him. Quit on the spot.”

“Good. He didn’t deserve anything else.”

She goes quiet again, sipping her coffee, but her eyes are distant.

I lean back, trying to calm the storm rising in my chest. This is exactly what I didn’t want. Feelings. Complications. Cam isn’t part of the plan. None of this is.

“You ever think about leaving?” she asks suddenly.

I glance at her, startled.

“All the time,” I admit. “Sometimes I think it’s the only way to keep growing. But lately... I’m not so sure.”

She nods, thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not about running away, but figuring out what you’re running toward.”

Her words land heavier than she probably means them to. I look at her, really look at her—bare feet tucked under her, mug cradled close, hair a little messy from sleep. She's not just some omega tenant. She's something else. Something grounding.

And that’s dangerous.

I clear my throat. “You should get back to the others. They’ll start to worry if we’re gone too long.”

She watches me a moment longer, then nods and rises, heading back down the hall.

I stay in the chair a bit longer, staring at the opposite wall, trying to remind myself that the right time to leave is before the roots get too deep.

Maybe it’s already too late.