Page 79 of Knot Your Sugar Rush (Starling Grove #2)
T he island greets us with a softness I didn’t notice last year. The salt air isn’t just brisk—it’s warm from the late summer sun, laced with the sweetness of the wildflowers edging the trail. The cry of seabirds blends with the slow, steady hush of the tide far below.
We move together easily. Theo leads, map in hand, his eyes tracking the lines and landmarks with that steady focus of his.
Dane walks beside me, his arm brushing mine in the kind of quiet contact that says I’m here .
Jamie is behind us, whistling low—an absentminded, tuneful sound that threads through the wind like it belongs there.
When we crest the ridge, the valley spills open below us—brimming with pale pink and cream blossoms, swaying as if they’ve been waiting for us. The petals seem to catch and hold the light, glowing in the lowering sun.
Jamie exhales a soft “Wow.”
Theo just smiles, slow and certain.
Dane glances at me. “First one’s yours.”
My fingers hover before I touch a bloom, feeling the velvety softness give beneath my skin. Zae’s voice comes to me as clearly as if she were here: Pick the biggest, brightest one and wear it, just to make them look. I blink hard, my throat tightening, and carefully clip the stem.
We work together, filling our packs with careful hands. The air is heavy with the flowers’ sweetness, the kind of scent that clings to skin and hair. Now and then Theo calls out a direction, Jamie steadies me with a gentle hand to my back, or Dane leans in to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
By sunset, our packs are fragrant and full. We set camp at the valley’s edge, and the fire snaps to life, throwing amber light against the deepening blue. Theo passes me a steaming mug of mint-and-honey tea, Dane hands over a plate of bread and roasted vegetables, and Jamie settles against my side.
The banter is warm and easy—Theo pretending to guard the bread, Jamie “accidentally” dropping crumbs that send Dane into mock outrage, me swatting at all of them in turn.
The fire’s heat warms my back, and the mingled scents of charred bread, woodsmoke, and flowers weave into something that feels like home.
When the conversation lulls, I set my mug aside. My heart beats fast, but my voice is steady.
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
All three look at me—open, attentive, their focus so complete it makes my breath catch.
“I’m pregnant.”
The silence that follows isn’t shock—it’s reverence. Theo’s lips part on a breath, his eyes softening like the moment before dawn. Jamie’s smile blooms slow, as if he’s holding it back to savor this second. Dane leans forward, his gaze steady, as if committing my face, my words, to memory.
Theo’s hand is the first to touch, warm and sure against my stomach.
His palm presses with just enough firmness to ground me, his thumb brushing in a slow arc that feels like a promise.
Dane’s follows, larger, the heat of him soaking through the thin fabric of my shirt, his touch steady and protective.
Jamie covers them both, his hand layered over theirs, his thumb stroking once before stilling, as if to anchor the moment in place.
The firelight catches on their eyes—Theo’s dark gaze gleaming, Jamie’s holding that quiet joy, Dane’s fixed on me with a devotion that makes my chest ache. The warmth of their hands seeps into me, pulsing in time with my own heartbeat until I’m not sure where they end and I begin.
Theo’s voice is low. “Ours.”
Jamie nods. “Completely.”
Dane adds, almost a vow, “Always.”
The fire pops softly. The valley beyond is dark now, the flowers just pale blurs swaying in the night breeze. I lean into them, into the shared silence that says more than words.
No one rushes to speak again. The crackle of the fire and the sigh of the wind through the valley say enough. I rest my hand over theirs, feeling the combined strength and warmth of my alphas beneath my palm.
Theo is the first to break the stillness, his voice quiet, meant only for us.
“We’ve got time before the season’s over. We’ll gather more, make sure there’s enough for anything we need.”
“Not just for the shop,” Jamie says, smiling gently. “For home.”
Dane chuckles low, shaking his head. “Guess this means you’re not getting rid of us after all.”
I give him the same look I did the day we first set out together—the one that meant you couldn’t if you tried . He grins back like he remembers it too.
We finish our meal slowly, talking in low voices, the conversation weaving between practical plans—how we’ll store the flowers, what route we’ll take back—and little teases that make the corners of our mouths lift.
Dane refills my tea without asking, Theo adjusts the blanket around my shoulders, Jamie leans his weight into my side just enough that I feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
When the fire burns down to glowing embers, we shift closer together. The night air is cool, scented with woodsmoke and the sweet lingering fragrance of the blooms. The stars are a scatter of silver over the deep indigo sky, so clear and bright they almost hum.
I stretch out between Dane and Theo, with Jamie pulling the blanket up to cover us all. The ground beneath me is firm but familiar—like the earth itself has made a space just for us.
Theo’s hand finds mine under the blanket, his fingers curling loosely, his thumb tracing idle patterns against my skin. Dane rests a palm over my stomach, protective and tender, his body warm against my side. Jamie tucks in close behind me, his breath brushing the curve of my neck.
No one says I love you aloud. We don’t have to. It’s in the way Theo presses a kiss to my hairline before settling in, the way Dane’s hand never drifts from its place over our future, the way Jamie hums low in his chest as if to anchor us all here in this moment.
Somewhere beyond our little fire, the flowers in the valley sway unseen in the dark, their perfume drifting toward us.
The firelight fades, and the sound of my alphas’ breathing evens out around me.
I let my eyes close, held on all sides by warmth, by belonging, by the promise of everything still to come.
“Next year,” Theo murmurs as he drifts, “we’ll do it all again.”
“Yes,” I whisper back, smiling in the dark. “All of us.”
Here, in the heart of the valley, under the stars, we’ve already found what we were looking for.
A year ago, I came here looking for a flower and maybe, secretly, for a way forward.
I found both. And as the tide hushes against the shore in the distance, with my pack beside me and our future taking root, I know Zae would tell me the same thing the island whispers now: you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.