Page 27 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)
Chapter twenty-seven
Cam
T he hospital room is warm with late afternoon sun, the filtered light spilling through beige curtains in lazy stripes across Gram’s blanket.
She looks better—less pale, more herself.
There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as she finishes telling a story to the nurse, who bursts into laughter before gently patting her arm and excusing herself with a shake of her head.
I knock lightly on the open doorframe. “Entertaining the entire staff again?”
Gram turns toward me with that familiar grin. “Well, they don’t exactly get many feisty old omegas with tales of moonshine misadventures and street dances. I’m doing them a favor.”
I laugh as I step into the room, the scent of antiseptic and something floral—probably the hand lotion the nurse used—mingling in the air. I pull up a chair and sit beside her bed, setting my bag down quietly.
Her hand finds mine immediately. Warm. Strong. “How’s my girl?”
“Tired,” I admit, then pause, pressing my lips together. “A little overwhelmed.”
She raises a brow. “Overwhelmed with handsome men cooking in your kitchen or overwhelmed with candy dreams and old ghosts?”
That startles a soft laugh out of me, and I squeeze her fingers. “Both. Maybe. I got swept up in something, Gram. And I think I’m too far in to back out now.”
“Well then, tell me everything.”
I do.
I tell her about Zae’s recipe, the flower, the lore. About the book Theo and I found, the old map with her handwriting, the promise of something lost and maybe still waiting. I tell her about the island. Tern Hollow. How the guys are excited—how they believe in it. In me.
Her eyes soften, misting at the edges, but she doesn’t interrupt.
“And I want to do it,” I finish quietly. “But part of me wonders if I’m crazy. I mean, I have a shop opening in a week. Shouldn’t I be focused on signage and inventory instead of risking my neck for a flower that may or may not exist?”
Gram shifts, scooting upright against her pillows. “Camellia Vale. Look at me.”
I do.
“You are not crazy. What you are is chasing the spark. That little pull in your chest? That’s your heart remembering what it means to dream. That’s Zae whispering, telling you to leap.”
My throat thickens.
She continues, voice soft but steady. “You are doing exactly what you were meant to do. Creating something beautiful. Carrying her with you into something new. You can’t build a future by ignoring your past. And you, my sweet girl, are weaving it all together in the most remarkable way.”
Tears slide down my cheeks before I can stop them. Gram doesn’t fuss. Just pulls my hand into hers and lets me cry.
“They’re good boys, your alphas,” she says eventually. “Even the grumpy one. I see how they look at you. And more than that, I see how they stay. That matters.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whisper.
“None of us do. We just follow the warmth. The thing that makes us feel like we belong.”
I lean my head on the edge of the mattress, close to her side. She strokes my hair gently, like she did when I was little and too sick to sleep. Watching over us when our parents worked late, more interested in careers than family.
“Do you think Zae would’ve done it? Gone after the flower?”
“Zae would’ve stolen a boat, climbed the cliffs, and made you taste-test the first candy even if it burnt your eyebrows off.”
I laugh through my tears.
“She’d be proud of you,” Gram says softly. “And she’d be thrilled you found your way home.”
I sit up, wiping my cheeks with the edge of my sleeve. “I don’t know if this will work.”
“It doesn’t have to. You’re already doing the work. Living it. That’s what matters.”
I nod, my chest aching but lighter somehow.
Gram gives my hand one last squeeze. “Go get that flower. Tell your story. And maybe let those sweet alphas carry a little of the load, hmm?”
I grin. “No promises.”
She chuckles. “Stubborn as ever. Must run in the family.”
As I leave the room a little later, the hallway feels brighter. My heart steadier. Whatever comes next, I know Zae is with me.
And Gram’s faith is the wind at my back.