Page 26 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter twenty-six

Cam

T he kitchen smells like toasted bread, cinnamon, and something bright—lemons maybe—thanks to the tangy glaze Jamie's whisking in a bowl.

Theo's at the stove, flipping slices of buttered bread in the pan like he's done it a hundred times, and maybe he has. I sit at the table, elbows planted beside my sister's old notebook and the folklore book we found at the library. Pages are spread out everywhere, scribbled notes on napkins mixed in with newspaper clippings and photocopies. The comforting clatter of dishes and low voices makes it feel like we’ve been doing this for years. Like they’ve always been here.

It’s not lost on me how easily they’ve slotted into my life.

Zae would’ve liked them.

“Okay,” I say, tapping the edge of the page with one finger. “So, the plant mentioned here—called 'Solara Petalis' in the book and Zae's notes—was apparently used in a lot of local sweets during the late 1800s.”

Jamie peers over from the counter. “Sounds magical.”

“It kind of is,” I say, excitement threading into my voice. “It was used in celebratory candies, wedding bonbons, even recovery sweets. The petals apparently crystallize naturally when dried. And the flavor changes depending on who prepared it.”

Theo turns down the stove burner and raises an eyebrow. “Flavor that changes? That's not candy, that's alchemy.”

“It’s probably folklore,” I admit, flipping the book around to show them. “But even if half of it is true, it could be incredible. Our signature recipe.”

Theo brings over the toast and sets a plate in front of me, then nudges a mug of tea my way. Jamie follows with the glaze, drizzling some on top. The warmth of the mug seeps into my hands as I breathe in the fragrant steam, grateful more than I can say.

I offer them both a grateful smile. “Now for the bad news.”

Jamie mock gasps. “There's bad news?”

“Of course. There's always bad news in magical candy quests.”

They both sit, leaning in.

“The flower’s nearly extinct,” I say. “According to the botanical records and my sister’s notes, the last known population was sighted on an island just off the coast. Little place called Tern Hollow.”

Theo frowns. “I know it. Technically not off-limits, but no one goes there.”

Jamie squints. “Wasn't there a whole story about it being abandoned?”

I nod, pulling out a folded map I found tucked into the folklore book. It’s old, but the island is circled in ink, with Zae’s handwriting beside it: Maybe here?

Theo and Jamie lean over to look at the map with me.

“It's small. Rocky. Boat access only, and even that’s tricky. No pier. Just a narrow beach.”

I rest my chin on my hand, glancing down at Zae’s script. Maybe here?

She’d written it with such hope. That flicker of adventure she always carried—the one that pulled me along, half-laughing, half-protesting, always curious. Her handwriting makes my chest ache.

“It sounds like an adventure,” I say, unable to hide my grin. “Though probably not a smart one.”

I fall quiet for a moment, the weight of everything creeping in. One week until opening day.

One week.

“Is this crazy?” I ask, lifting my head. “I mean... the shop opens in a week. Shouldn’t I be testing flavors and hanging signs instead of running off to chase mythical flowers on abandoned islands?”

Jamie tilts his head. “You’re creating something that matters. That candy—it’s part of your story. Of Zae’s too. If this recipe is important to you, then it’s worth the time.”

Theo nods slowly. “You can open a candy store any day. But the chance to finish something your sister started? That kind of opportunity doesn’t wait.”

Their words steady something inside me. I swallow hard, blinking back the sting in my eyes. They never push for more. Not about her. Not about the ache that still lives in my ribs like a hollow. They just... stand beside me. And that means more than I can say.

“Thank you,” I murmur. “For not making me explain.”

Jamie offers me a soft smile. “We don’t need the details to know she mattered. You matter. That’s enough.”

Just then, the front door opens and closes with a solid thunk. Dane steps into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he sets his bag down by the doorway. His presence shifts the room, grounding it.

“Smells good in here,” he says, brushing hair from his eyes.

Jamie waves a piece of toast. “We fed her. She’s working on botanical treasure maps.”

Dane raises an eyebrow. “That a new business plan?”

“No,” I say. “A recipe. An old one. And maybe a new one, too.”

Theo fills him in, passing the map down the table. Dane studies it in silence, his brows knitting slightly.

“How was your meeting?” Jamie asks.

“Fine,” Dane replies. Too short. Too neutral.

Theo and Jamie exchange a look, but let it drop.

Dane's gaze lingers on the map. “You said the flower’s on Tern Hollow?”

“Yeah,” I say. “At least, it might be. It's a long shot.”

Dane steps around the table, resting one hand on the back of my chair. “Then let’s go get it.”

I blink up at him. “What?”

“Why not? Could be fun.”

Theo narrows his eyes. “Since when do you want to take impulsive boat trips to haunted islands?”

Dane shrugs. “Maybe I need a break from being predictable.”

Jamie grins. “And you love an excuse to one-up us in wilderness skills.”

I look at them—these three alphas who walked into my life and made it feel not only manageable again, but something else entirely.

Something steady. Like building blocks instead of broken pieces.

And now, with Zae’s recipe in my hands and their support behind me, it feels like maybe.

.. maybe I can give her dream shape again.

My heart thumps with the thrill of it. The adventure. The memory of Zae’s voice echoing in my mind: For rainy days or heartbreaks. One bite = better.

“Okay,” I say. “We go.