Page 75 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter seventy-five

Cam

W e set off under a sky that feels too perfect to be real—crisp blue above, just a few high clouds curling like brushstrokes, sunlight slanting through the canopy in bright ribbons.

The air smells alive, full of pine and damp earth, the kind of clean scent that makes me breathe deeper without thinking about it.

Theo leads the way with the map tucked under his arm, occasionally slowing to point out a landmark or check our heading.

Dane stays close to my right, his hand hovering near the small of my back every time the trail dips or rocks shift underfoot.

Jamie keeps a steady pace on my left, his stride careful but even, his injured leg moving with more ease than I’d expected.

Every so often, Theo or Dane subtly reaches to take more of the load from his pack, no teasing, no comments—just quiet, easy care.

The trail winds upward at first, the morning light dappling across our shoulders. The higher we go, the more the forest opens, until the view spills wide—rolling ridges layered in shades of blue-green, a pale mist clinging to the valleys far below. I stop to take it in, my chest full to bursting.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Theo glances back at me, the sun catching in his hair.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “My sister would have loved this.”

There’s a quiet moment after that, a soft weight in the air, but it’s not heavy.

Just… full. Zae’s face flits through my mind, her grin when she’d drag me into some half-baked adventure.

She’d have been all over this—boots muddy, hair wind-tangled, laughing at every wrong turn. I smile through the ache in my throat.

Dane must catch it, because his hand brushes against mine as we start moving again. Not holding, not quite—just enough to steady me.

We climb for another hour, the banter picking up as we find our rhythm.

Jamie tells some ridiculous story about him and Dane getting stuck in a canoe in their teens, complete with Dane’s unimpressed muttering at every embellishment.

Theo hums under his breath now and then, his eyes scanning the terrain like it’s an old friend.

The sun warms my shoulders, my boots scuff against stone and roots, and everything feels… right.

By midmorning, we crest a low ridge and start down into a narrow valley.

The air shifts—cooler, shaded by the way the hills curve around us.

There’s the faint trickle of water somewhere to our left, the earthy tang of damp moss and leaves.

My pulse quickens without me telling it to. This feels like the place.

Theo slows near the bottom of the slope, his eyes scanning the ground. Dane steps ahead, brushing aside a low branch, and I catch my breath.

There—clusters of tall, leafy stems, their flower heads drooping gracefully at the ends. For a heartbeat, my heart leaps. But then… I see the petals.

They’re curled in on themselves, edges browned. The color—once vivid, I can tell—is muted now, fading into the same warm golds and tired reds that litter the forest floor. The cooler days heralding the season’s passing has already claimed them.

I stop beside Dane, my boots sinking into soft earth. The valley smells faintly sweet under the cool mossy scent, a ghost of what it must have been just weeks ago.

“We were close,” Theo says quietly, crouching to touch one of the stems with careful fingers.

Jamie hobbles up beside us, eyes narrowing at the plants. “Next year, maybe. Or… maybe there’s another patch somewhere still holding on.”

I swallow, my throat tight for a different reason now. It’s not quite disappointment, not really. We made it here. Together. And even if the petals are gone, the promise of them lingers.

The silence in the little valley feels heavier now. The stream keeps murmuring somewhere off to the left, birds call lazily from the tree line, but all I can hear is Jamie’s voice, low and raw.

“This is my fault,” he says, eyes fixed on the ground. “If I’d gotten the first flower… if I hadn’t slowed us down—”

“Jamie,” I cut in, but he talks right over me.

“I should’ve pushed harder. Should’ve kept going, even when—”

“Stop,” Dane says firmly, the sound sharp enough to still him mid-sentence.

Theo straightens from where he’d been crouched near the wilted blooms, brushing soil from his fingers. “You didn’t cause the season to end,” he says, tone patient, even. “Nature runs its own clock. We just… missed it.”

Jamie shakes his head, jaw tight. I can see the guilt etched into every line of him, the way his shoulders curve inward. “Yeah, but if I’d—”

I step closer, catching his gaze until he can’t avoid mine. “Then we’ll just have to try again.”

The words come out sure, steadier than I even feel. But as soon as I say them, something in my chest loosens. I glance toward Theo. His mouth tips in a faint, regretful smile.

“Season’s over,” he says gently.

“Then that means…” I take a slow breath, my heart beating steady and full, “we’ll just have to come back next year.”

I let my eyes rest on Dane first, letting the weight of it sink in. His brows lift slightly, but there’s a flicker in his expression—something warm, almost surprised. Then I turn to Jamie, who’s still standing stiff and uncertain, and to Theo, who’s watching me with that measuring look of his.

“All of us,” I finish.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the cool whisper of wind through the leaves. Then Dane’s lips curve into a slow grin. “Guess we’ve got ourselves a plan.”

Theo gives a small nod, one corner of his mouth lifting. “I’ll keep looking at the maps. There might be another patch we can find.”

Jamie exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours. “All of us,” he echoes softly, and there’s the barest smile there now, the guilt easing from his shoulders.

I look at each of them, the way they stand—different but anchored together somehow—and my chest feels like it might burst. “Good,” I say quietly. “Because now we need to head back.”

Theo tilts his head. “Back?”

“Yeah.” I glance toward the path that winds out of the valley, the sun starting to lean toward afternoon. “I’ve got a store to open. And I…” I swallow, the lump in my throat half sorrow, half pride. “…I finally feel ready.”

Zae’s laugh comes to me then, bright as the sunlight on the ridge this morning. She would’ve been proud—of the journey, of the stubbornness, of the way I’ve let myself open up to these men. She’d have teased me about it, too, but she’d have been proud all the same.

“Zae would be proud of you,” Dane says softly, like he’s plucked the thought right out of my head.

“I know.” I smile at him, at all of them. “Let’s go home.”

We start back together, and the valley behind us stays quiet, holding its fading flowers until next year.