Page 100 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
When the stars have wheeled a little and the coals sigh, the world settles.
We lie in a tangle of limbs and blankets and satisfied breath. Dane’s chest is a warm wall at my back; Jamie’s fingers draw idle circles over the inside of my wrist; Theo’s palm spans my hip, anchoring, protective, his mouth pressed to my hair. The night smells like smoke and pine and us.
“Still happy?” Dane murmurs, voice threadbare with feeling.
“More than,” I say.
Jamie’s laugh is a breath against my neck. “Next year, then. All of us.”
“Next year,” Theo echoes, and I hear the map unrolling in his mind, not lines on paper but the path of a life.
I tilt my head and kiss Dane’s knuckles, then reach for Jamie and Theo in turn, pressing soft thanks where skin is closest. The three answering hums are different notes in the same chord.
“Stay,” I whisper, to the night, to the moment, to the men whose warmth has become my own. “Stay.”
They do. And the stars look like they approve.
Chapter seventy-eight
Cam
The 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.”
