Page 47 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter forty-seven

Theo

T he safe house is quiet, but it’s not the kind of quiet that means everything’s fine.It’s the taut, waiting kind.

The kind that sits between my ribs and doesn’t let go.

Jamie’s breathing is even in the armchair, but I can tell from the way his fingers flex against the blanket that he’s not asleep. Dane’s outside again, probably pacing just beyond the door, watching the tree line like the enemy’s about to come spilling out of the shadows. And Cam—

Cam is curled in the nest I made her.

I keep my eyes on the door and my body in the chair, but my thoughts keep circling back to her.

The soft fold of her shoulders. The way her hair spills over the quilt.

The way her scent has changed, grown warmer, heavier—like honey warmed over a slow flame.

It should be a good smell, instinct says.

But it’s mixed with the sour edge of strain, the telltale hint of fear.

I’m not an idiot. I know what it means. And I also know the last thing she needs is me crowding her or letting my instincts run wild.

So I sit here. I keep the lantern low. I make sure her water’s within arm’s reach. I tell myself I’m in control.

Except I’m not.

I haven’t been since Jamie went down. Since the building started to collapse under our feet and I realized—really realized—that we could lose him.

And now Dane’s talking about moving, about opportunities in the city, like everything we’ve built here is just a waystation.

Like I’m supposed to watch all of it scatter and call it progress.

The only thing I can control tonight is this room, this safe house, the air between her and danger.

So I keep my hands busy. I shift the blankets to make sure nothing’s bunching under her legs.

I set another one within reach in case she gets cold.

I manage to pull myself away from her and back to my chair, though every instinct in my body begs me to stay with her.

“You’re hovering,” Jamie says suddenly, his voice low but amused.

“I’m making sure she’s got what she needs,” I mutter back.

Jamie smirks. “You’re fussing.”

I glance at him. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am resting. You’re the one pacing like a caged bear—”

“I’m not pacing,” I hiss, though I can feel the truth of it in the twitch of my legs.

He grins, and for a second, the tightness in my chest eases. This is how we’ve always handled things—shoving back against the worry with teeth and banter. But his eyes flick toward Cam, and there’s nothing mocking in them now.

“She’s safe,” he says. “You’re making sure of that.”

I nod once, because it’s the only answer that won’t catch in my throat.

The door creaks, and Dane steps inside, moving quiet as he can. He glances at me, then at Jamie, and I can see the unspoken conversation happen between them—Dane checking, Jamie confirming. Cam stirs, shifting deeper into the blankets, and I’m on my feet before I can think.

But I stop halfway there. My fingers curl into a fist. I want to go to her. I want to crouch down and brush the hair from her face and tell her she’s okay. That she’s not alone. But my instincts would bleed into hers, and right now she needs space to breathe.

So I swallow it down.

Dane settles against the wall, his posture loose but his eyes sharp. Jamie watches him, then me, and finally says, “You know, for a guy who swears he’s not the nurturing type, you’re starting to act like a grandmother.”

I glare at him. “You’re lucky you can’t stand right now.”

Jamie snorts, and the sound is ridiculous enough that it almost makes me smile. Almost.

I turn back to Cam. The blankets shift again as she exhales, and for a fleeting moment, the tension in her face eases. And I think—if this is all I can do, if this is all the control I get—then fine. I’ll hold the line here. I’ll make sure she has the space she needs to get through this.

Even if I’m holding back a thousand other things I want to give her.