Page 27 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
Dane kills the engine. No one moves.
“We’ll walk you in,” I say, already reaching for the door.
She hesitates for a heartbeat, then nods. “Thanks.”
The four of us move slowly toward the house, something like calm settling over us. She unlocks the door, and I feel her sway slightly.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer. But her shoulder brushes mine as she steps inside.
And for tonight, that’s enough.
Chapter fifteen
Cam
The front door clicks shut behind us, and the silence that follows makes my ears ring.
Gram’s house smells like cinnamon and lemon oil and the faintest trace of her rosewater perfume. But the cozy warmth is undercut by the chaos in the kitchen—the mess left behind from her fall. Chairs askew, tea spilled across the table and floor, the cookie tin dented on the linoleum like it was dropped in a rush. My chest tightens at the sight.
“Oh no,” I whisper, stepping into the kitchen. “I should’ve cleaned this up before we left...”
I move fast, grabbing a dish towel, righting a chair, crouching down to mop the floor like I can somehow fix what happened just by erasing the signs. The knot in my chest pulls tighter. Gram always kept a clean house—immaculate, even—and I know she’d hate the idea of anyone seeing it like this. Especially strangers.
“Cam,” Theo says gently behind me.
“It’s fine,” I mutter, too fast. “It’ll only take a second. I don’t want her to come home to this. It’s just—”
I’m reaching for the cookie tin when Jamie tries to pick up a fallen recipe card from the floor. His eyes pause on the open photo album on the table, one I left there hours ago.
I lurch forward. “Don’t—please. It’s personal.”
He immediately lifts his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry.”
I blink hard, swallowing down the sharp sting in my throat. “It’s not you. That album is full of Zae. We used to tape our favorite candy recipes into the margins. I thought maybe if I looked through it, I could find inspiration. Or just feel closer to her.”
Jamie nods, his voice soft. “Of course. I get it.”
I sigh, brushing hair out of my face. “I didn’t mean to snap. You’re all just trying to help.”
“We are,” Dane says, crossing the room with a dishcloth slung over his shoulder. “So go. Wash up. Let us handle clean up and cooking. You have to eat.”
“You’re cooking?” I ask, the corner of my mouth twitching despite everything.
“I make a mean grilled cheese,” Dane says, confidently heading for the fridge.
“Jamie makes a decent salad,” Theo adds, already wiping down the counters.
“And Theo thinks boiling pasta is wizardry,” Jamie chimes in with a wink.
“I do not,” Theo grumbles.
“You once set off the smoke alarm boiling water,” Jamie fires back.
“The pot was defective,” Theo replies.
I snort, hugging the dish towel to my chest.
