Page 23 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter twenty-three

Jamie

G ram waits until Cam disappears down the hallway before turning her keen gaze on the three of us.

“Boys,” she says, voice low but unmistakably firm. “Come closer.”

The fluorescent lighting above flickers faintly, casting long shadows across the pale hospital tile.

Everything smells like antiseptic and distant coffee.

But Gram's tone slices through it all, clear and commanding.

We exchange glances—Dane arches a brow, Theo shrugs with a sigh, and I step forward, drawn to her presence like gravity.

She narrows her eyes, sharp and unwavering. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Of course,” I say, without hesitation. Her presence demands respect—soft though she may be, there's a steel spine in that woman. I feel the weight of her gaze settle over us like a blanket. Familiar. Heavy. Protective.

“Don’t hurt my Camellia.”

The room stills.

Dane shifts first, brow furrowing. “We—we wouldn't.”

“She’s been through enough. More than you know,” she continues, her voice gentling but no less resolute. “You might think you’re just her landlords. Maybe friends. But I know what I see. What I smell.”

Theo straightens slightly, puzzled. “Smell?”

Gram tilts her head. “I’m an omega too, boys. You think I don’t recognize a perfect scent match when it walks into my hospital room? You three smell like home to her. And I’d bet my tea kettle that she smells like the same to you.”

Dane coughs, looking vaguely like he wants to disappear into the floor. “Could be,” he mutters.

But I can’t even bring myself to argue. I’ve felt it. That sense of something shifting, settling, when she’s near. The way my body reacts before my brain even registers her presence. She fits into our rhythm so effortlessly. As if she’s always been there, just out of reach until now.

Gram’s eyes find mine, then Theo’s, then Dane’s. “I won’t tell her what to feel. That’s her choice. But I know her heart. And I know yours. If you mean to keep dancing around her, fine. But don’t you dare let her believe she’s not wanted. Not again.”

My throat tightens. Guilt settles like a pebble in my stomach, small but undeniable.

Dane speaks first this time, voice quiet. “We do want her.”

Theo gives a slow nod. “We all feel it.”

I finally find my voice. “We’re just not sure what to do about it. We never expected... this.”

Her expression softens into something maternal, something knowing. “You do what you always do. You show up. You take care of her. You let her find her way to you. And if she does? You hold on tight, boys. And don’t let go.”

The quiet that follows feels reverent. The hum of machines in the room fades into the background.

Her gaze sharpens again, commanding. “Say it. Out loud. Promise me.”

I glance at Theo and Dane. We nod, and I speak first. “We promise.”

Dane sighs, nodding. “Promise.”

Theo adds, clear and calm, “We won’t let her down.”

Gram leans back into her pillows, finally satisfied. Just in time, too, because Cam returns, a Styrofoam cup of tea in one hand, her brows drawn with suspicion.

She looks us over. “What’d I miss?”

“Oh, nothing,” Gram says with an exaggerated air of innocence. Too much innocence.

Cam narrows her eyes. “You didn’t threaten them while I was gone, did you?”

“Only lovingly,” Gram quips.

Cam rolls her eyes, handing her the tea. “She’s probably high on hospital drugs. Ignore whatever she said.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Theo murmurs.

The tension breaks. We laugh—soft, genuine laughter that rolls easily among the beeping monitors and the scent of too-clean air. Cam leans in and kisses her grandmother’s cheek, a gesture so full of tenderness that my chest aches with the sight.

“Rest up, okay? We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here,” Gram promises, reaching for Cam’s hand one last time.

We leave the room together, the four of us walking shoulder to shoulder. But as we step into the hallway, I glance back.

So does Cam.

She knows something happened. I can see it in the crease between her brows, the curious glance she tosses over her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything.

But she knows.

And she’s not the only one feeling something dangerous.

Something real.