Page 78 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)

Chapter seventy-eight

Cam

T he kitchen smells like heaven—garlic, butter, herbs—and sounds like family.

Theo’s got his knife moving in precise, quick strokes, slicing vegetables like he’s competing in some high-stakes chef competition.

Dane is at the stove, forearms dusted with flour, brow furrowed as he stirs a skillet of something sizzling and golden.

Jamie’s leaning on the counter “supervising,” which really means he’s stealing bites whenever Theo’s back is turned.

“You know, Jamie,” Theo says without looking up, “if you keep taste-testing, there won’t be anything left for dinner.”

Jamie grins, unrepentant. “I’m making sure it’s not poisoned. You’re welcome.”

“More like making sure you get the biggest portion,” Dane rumbles, not even glancing over.

From beside me, Gram chuckles. “He’s got the right idea. I always said the cook should be the first taster.”

Theo gives her a side-eye over the cutting board. “I think you’re just encouraging him.”

“I am,” Gram says primly, though the sparkle in her eyes gives her away.

Dane laughs, deep and low, and even Theo’s mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile.

I sip my tea, letting the warmth fill me as much as the sound of them—Gram holding her own with my alphas, the easy flow of voices like this has always been home.

“You did well yesterday,” Gram says, referring to my store’s opening as she turned her attention to me. “Better than well.”

“We nearly sold out,” I admit. “I spent the whole day making more just to be ready for tomorrow.”

“That’s how you know you’ve made something worth keeping.” Her hand settles on mine, warm and steady. “Your sister would have loved it. She’d be in there bossing you around, eating half the stock.”

The ache in my chest is sweet, not sharp. “I know. I kept thinking about her all day. This was our dream. And… now it’s real.”

“She’s still here, Cam. In the sign over your door. In the way you smile when you talk about your candy. She’s in you.”

My throat goes tight, and I squeeze her hand. “Thank you. For giving me space when I needed it. For letting me come home.”

“For you? Always.” Her smile softens. “And for them—” she tips her chin toward the stove, where Jamie is trying and failing to distract Theo long enough to steal a carrot “—I’m happy. They suit you. You breathe easier with them.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking at them. “I do.”

Jamie catches me staring and grins, holding up a stolen piece of bread like it’s a prize. Dane offers me a spoonful from the skillet without missing a beat, and Theo, despite his mock glare, doesn’t stop him.

“Go on,” Gram murmurs. “They’re making that for you.”

I stand and drift over, and the teasing shifts to include me immediately.

“Careful,” Jamie says, “she’s the final taste-tester. If she doesn’t approve, dinner’s canceled.”

“Better hope she’s nicer than you,” Theo says, sliding the vegetables into Dane’s pan.

Dane smirks, lowering the spoon toward me. “She’s definitely nicer than him.”

The warmth in the room wraps around me like a blanket—Gram’s quiet pride, Zae’s memory woven into every heartbeat, the easy way these men fold me into their banter and their care. For the first time in years, I feel not just at home, but like I’m exactly where I belong.

There’s just one more thing I need to do—that I’m finally ready to do—and I won’t have to do it alone.

***

The cemetery is quiet.

Late afternoon light filters through the oaks, laying dappled gold across worn stones and iron fences.

A breeze carries the faint sweetness of clover and freshly cut grass, stirring the wildflowers planted along the path.

My chest feels tight, but my hand doesn’t shake as much as I feared when I rest it against the cool wrought-iron gate.

Gram stands beside me, her arm linked through mine. She’s strong, steady—still recovering, but she insisted on coming today. Behind us, the alphas wait a respectful step back, silent shadows who fill the air with warmth and patience.

For so long I avoided this. Told myself I wasn’t ready. That Zae would understand. But the truth is, I was afraid of what it would feel like to stand here, of how much it would hurt.

I take a breath and step forward. The gravel crunches underfoot. Each step feels like crossing a river of years I thought I’d drowned in.

Her stone is simple, exactly what she would’ve wanted. Azalea Vale. A swirl of vines carved around her name, and beneath it: Wild at heart, forever free.

My throat tightens.

Gram releases my arm so I can kneel. My fingers trace the engraving, cool and rough, and I whisper, “Hey, Zae.” My voice cracks. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Behind me, someone shifts. I don’t have to turn to know who—it’s Dane, his weight shifting like he wants to move closer but is holding back. Jamie and Theo are statues beside him, but I feel their attention, their care like a net ready to catch me if I fall.

“I opened the shop,” I say softly, tears blurring the letters. “It’s ours, Zae. Just like we dreamed. There’s laughter in the kitchen and sugar on the counters, and Gram’s already claimed the best seat in the place. It feels alive. Like you’re there.”

Gram kneels beside me, her hand covering mine. Her smile is gentle, though her eyes are shining. “She is there,” Gram murmurs. “Every step you’ve taken, she’s been with you.”

I bow my head, shoulders shaking. “I miss you so much.”

For a moment, it’s just grief and love, raw and sharp. Then Dane’s voice, quiet but sure, breaks the silence. “She’d be proud, Cam.”

I look up, and all three are there—Jamie with his steady warmth, Theo with his quiet gravity, Dane with his fierce certainty. My alphas. My pack.

I draw a shuddering breath, and for the first time in years, the ache doesn’t crush me.

It softens. I set down a bundle of candy I made that morning—a ribbon-tied box filled with bright sugar flowers.

Our flowers. Maybe not made with special petal sugar, but with love, and grief, and the promise of forever holding her in my heart.

“For you, Zae,” I whisper.

We stand together in the fading light, Gram on one side, the alphas on the other. Their presence surrounds me, holding me upright as the ache in my chest eases into something almost tender.

When we turn to leave, I glance back once more. The wind stirs through the grass, brushing over the candy box and the stone, and I swear it feels like a promise carried on the breeze.

Like Zae saying goodbye, and how proud she is of me.

And how she’ll always be a part of me.