Page 51 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)
Chapter fifty-one
Jamie
I hate being useless.
The others don’t say it—hell, they go out of their way to make it not a thing—but every time Theo hauls me up so I can hobble to the other side of the room, or Dane disappears outside to check the perimeter without me, it grates under my skin.
I’m supposed to be in the thick of it, not sitting here while my leg throbs like a damn drumbeat.
The safehouse is warm, maybe a little too warm.
A small fire crackles in the stone hearth, giving the whole place a faint scent of woodsmoke that seeps into my clothes.
Shadows dance along the rough-planked walls.
The air is heavy with the smell of old timber, damp wool from our coats, and something else—something softer, sweeter—Cam.
She’s curled in the nest Theo made earlier, knees drawn up, hair loose and shadowing her face.
The blankets around her are thick, rumpled in a way that makes them look inviting even from across the room.
She looks about how I feel—off-balance, restless, trying to keep it together while her body’s working against her.
She’s kept the door open, meaning she doesn’t want to be alone.
“You look like you’re plotting a prison break,” I say finally. My voice comes out rough, but the corner of my mouth pulls up into something resembling a grin.
She tilts her head, the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth. “You’re one to talk. You’ve been staring at the door like you think you can glare it into bringing you your freedom, or miraculously heal you.”
I chuckle, but it’s hollow. “Might work. Haven’t given up yet.”
Her eyes soften, and for a second it’s just the two of us, trading glances that say yeah, this sucks without either of us having to put it into words. I can see the sheen on her skin, the way her breaths are coming slower, heavier.
Dane passes through, quiet as always, but I notice the way his gaze lingers on her before he heads back toward the door. Protective. Hyperaware. The same thing I feel clawing at my own gut.
Theo’s sitting nearby, pretending to read an old, dog-eared book we found on a shelf, but I know better. He’s watching everything . The firelight catches on the faint crease between his brows every time Cam shifts.
She pulls the blanket tighter, and I swear her scent thickens, like warm honey with a sharp twist of citrus. She’s trying to hide it, but there’s no hiding from the three of us. My body responds before my brain can tell it to settle down.
Theo glances my way, catching the tension in my shoulders. Neither of us says it, but I know we’re both thinking the same thing—she’s close. She won’t be able to shed this heat by herself.
I shift in my chair, wincing as my leg reminds me why I’m not up and pacing. I rub at my aching thigh just to have something to do with my hands.
Theo gets up after a while, pours me some water from the dented kettle, and sets it on the table beside me. “Drink. You’re turning into a grumpy old man.”
“Grumpy, maybe. Not old.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He sits again, drumming his fingers against his knee.
“Stop that,” I mutter.
“Stop what?”
“Acting like a caged wolf.”
He smirks faintly. “Says the guy who keeps twitching like he’s about to sprint a mile.”
We trade barbs for a while, the way we always do when the air’s too thick. The teasing works, at least partly—it loosens my jaw, makes me forget for a few minutes that every nerve in my body wants to be on my feet.
Cam listens from her corner, her gaze darting between us now and then. I catch her smothering a smile when Theo tells me I’m just slacking to get out of patrols, and I shoot back that I’d beat him in a race even on one leg.
The fire pops, and her laugh—soft, but real—threads through the moment like something precious.
Hours stretch. The light from the single window fades into twilight. Dane returns from his latest check, shakes the rain from his hair, and moves silently around the room. The smell of cool air follows him, crisp and bracing.
Then Cam shifts again, and her voice is so quiet I almost think I imagined it. “I think…I think I’m going to need help.”
The words hang there, heavy as stone.
“Alright,” Theo says first, his tone steady but gentle. “You tell us what you need, and we’ll make sure it happens.”
Her eyes lift, scanning the three of us. I can feel the unspoken weight of her choice pressing against my ribs.
“Dane,” she says, almost a whisper.
For a heartbeat, there’s only the crackle of the fire. Dane straightens, something unreadable flickering across his face. He nods once—steady, sure—but I see the way his jaw clenches, like he’s holding back more.
Theo and I nod, too. Respectful. Supportive. But it doesn’t mean it’s easy. My gut twists, and I can tell from Theo’s brief glance that he feels it too. Not jealousy, exactly. Just that ache of wanting to be the one she trusts enough to ask.
I lean back, my fingers tightening on the armrest, and tell myself it’s fine. We’ll get there.
Right now, what matters is that she’s safe.