Page 58 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter fifty-eight

Cam

T he room smells like warmth — buttered bread lingering in the air, a hint of cinnamon from the tea, and beneath it, the grounding mix of the three alphas’ scents threading through the space.

It’s not oppressive, it’s… safe. Like a blanket you didn’t realize you needed until it’s wrapped around you.

Theo gets the fire going with a confidence that makes me think he’s done it a hundred times before.

He crouches near the hearth, coaxing the flame from ember-orange to steady gold.

Dane’s by the table, shuffling a deck of cards with a smooth, practiced flick.

Jamie’s still stretched out on the lounger, a blanket over his legs, eyes following every movement in the room like he’s cataloguing it for later.

I tuck my legs under me on the couch, cradling my tea. The fire pops, sending a small shower of sparks up the chimney. The sound makes me smile — it’s such a simple, human noise, the kind that belongs to nights without fear.

Theo settles beside me with the deck Dane’s passed over, his knee brushing mine just enough to share heat. “We’re playing something easy,” he announces. “Cam’s still recovering, Jamie’s still pretending to be injured—”

“Pretending?” Jamie scoffs, straightening up. “I’d like to see you limp across the room on this leg.”

Theo grins. “I’d carry you like the delicate flower you are.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “What are we playing?”

Dane drops into the armchair opposite, stretching his long legs out. “Rummy. Simple, competitive, and I’m good at it.”

We play in rounds, the fire snapping and hissing behind us, the cards soft from years of use.

I lose the first hand miserably — distracted by the way the light flickers against Theo’s jaw, the slow curl of a smile from Dane when he beats us.

Jamie wins the second game by pure luck and looks smug enough to make Theo demand a rematch.

Somewhere between the third and fourth rounds, I realize my shoulders have relaxed entirely.

The tight knot in my stomach from earlier is gone, replaced with an easy warmth.

I sip my tea slowly, just to have an excuse to watch them — their banter, the casual way they toss cards down, the glances they throw me to make sure I’m still comfortable.

When Dane leans back after a win, stretching his arms behind his head, the firelight catches in his eyes, turning them molten. “Not bad for a night in,” he says.

Theo nods toward me. “Better than not bad. We’ve got food, warmth, company. We’re not on edge for once.”

Jamie hums in agreement. “If I had a drink in hand, I’d call it perfect.”

It is perfect. I hadn’t thought I’d get this — not here, not now, not after the way things fell apart in the city. But here we are, in a half-fixed safehouse with creaky floors and mismatched furniture, and I feel more at home than I have in years.

We play until the cards start to blur and the fire burns low, the warmth soaking into my skin. My heat’s still simmering under the surface, but for the moment, it’s muted, softened by the comfort of this little world we’ve built tonight.

When we finally drift toward the sleeping spaces — Dane and Theo moving to help Jamie up — I can’t help but linger by the fire a moment longer. Their voices are low and warm, full of the kind of ease that only comes when everyone feels safe.

And for tonight, that’s enough.