Page 66 of Knot Your Sugar

"And what about your responsibility to yourself?" James challenges. "To your own happiness? Does that not factor into your equation?"

"I’m a firefighter," I say flatly. "Personal happiness isn’t exactly in the job description."

James lets out a snort that’s surprisingly loud and derisive. "That, my friend, is the biggest, steaming pile of self-sacrificing bullshit I have ever had the misfortune of hearing."

I'm ready to glare him into submission, to put him back in his pretty-boy place, but he meets my gaze unflinchingly, his own blue eyes blazing with an unexpected fire.

"You think you’re the only one here with something to lose, Cole?" he challenges, stepping closer, his usual playful charm replaced by an aggressive honesty. "You think you’re the only one who’s terrified? I’ve spent my whole goddamn life trying to prove myself, trying to live up to impossible expectations. I amthis close," he holds up his thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart, "to getting everything I’ve ever worked for, everything I’ve ever wanted. And yeah, this whole situation… it complicates things. Spectacularly. But running away? Turning your back and pretending it’s not happening? That’s the coward’s way out, Cole. And I didn’t peg you for a coward."

"James," Dorian warns, his voice a low, soothing rumble, trying to diffuse the sudden tension crackling between us.

"No, he needs to hear this," James insists, his gaze still locked on mine, unwavering, almost accusatory. "You’re not the only one who’s scared, Cole. We all are. Deeply, profoundly, shit-your-pants terrified. But at leastI’mwilling to admit it. At leastI’mnot hiding behind some bullshit notion of duty and responsibility to avoid facing what’s right in front of me."

His words hit with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. The kid… damn it, the kid is more perceptive than I ever gave him credit for.

"I'm not—"

"Save it," James interrupts, his voice gentler now, anger giving way to something like weary understanding. "We all have our go-to defense mechanisms, right? Mine's charm. Wit. Acting like I don’t have a care in the world. Dorian’s," he adds, glancing at him, "is control. And yours, Cole? Yours is duty. Carrying the weight of the world on those big, strong shoulders. But in the end, they’re all just armor, aren’t they? Different ways to avoid getting hurt. Different ways to run."

A heavy, loaded silence falls between the three of us, punctuated only by the distant, cheerful sounds of the festival. But in our small bubble, something fundamental is being negotiated. Not just about Elena. But about us. About who we are, and who we might become… possibly together.

"Let’s focus on tonight," Dorian says finally, his voice a soothing balm on our nerves. "Let's stick to my original idea. I will try to speak with Elena. After that…" He shrugs, a small, elegant gesture of acceptance. "We'll see."

With that regal evasion, he turns and heads back to the competition area, his posture radiating an unshakeable determination that I can’t help but admire. James and I watch him go in silence.

"For the record," James says quietly, his gaze still fixed on Dorian’s retreating figure, his earlier bravado replaced by a surprising, vulnerable sincerity, "I… I think you’d regret leaving, Cole. We all would."

Chapter thirty-four

Elena

My chocolate curls finally cooperate, the delicate dark spirals setting perfectly on parchment paper.

Muscle memory is the only thing carrying me through this 'low-pressure' workshop (which feels about as relaxing as wrestling a buttered alligator) since Cole dropped his omega-scent-match-late-bloomer bomb.

"Impressive work, Elena."

I practically jump out of my skin, stiffening at the sound of Dorian's smooth voice right behind me.Oh, great. Another one.

When I slowly turn, bracing myself for another round of ‘let’s discuss your newly discovered omega biology,’ he's examining my display of chocolate decorations with what appears to be genuine interest. His hands are clasped neatly behind his back in that formal way of his. Unlike earlier in the competition, andthankfully unlike Cole’s close-talking routine, he's maintaining a very respectful distance from my workstation. Small mercies.

"Thank you," I manage, my voice deliberately neutral, hopefully conveying absolutely none of the chaos currently happening in my head. "Did you need something,Mr. Beaumont?"

His silver-gray eyes meet mine, making my pulse skip, and I instinctively brace myself for the follow-up to Cole’s earlier ambush. Instead, he gestures vaguely toward the sun-dappled festival grounds, specifically toward the shimmering expanse of the lakefront.

"Actually, Elena," he says, his tone perfectly even, "I was wondering if you'd mind taking a short walk with me? There's something I'd like to discuss with you." He pauses, his gaze direct, unwavering. "And it has nothing to do with what Cole may or may not have spoken to you about earlier."

I eye him skeptically, my internal alarm bells already ringing at a fever pitch somehow finding a higher octave. "Is that so? Because Cole made me understand it was a… group-oriented topic."

"This is an entirely separate matter," he confirms with a slight, almost imperceptible nod, his expression sincere.

Something in his calm, measured tone, in the way he holds my gaze without a flicker of deceit, makes me believe him. Or at least, partially. "Alright," I say, unbuttoning my slightly chocolate-smeared apron.

* * *

Lake Vienne shimmers in warm amber tones as we stroll along the relatively quiet waterfront path.

The cheerful cacophony of the festival fades to a muted hum behind us, replaced by the gentle, rhythmic lapping of water against the shore and the distant cry of a heron.

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