Page 32 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
“Alright, bed for me,” I announce, standing and stretching. “You three try not to rearrange the entire living room while I’m gone.”
Jamie pops up. “Wait—let me walk you to your room.”
I lift an eyebrow. “It’s ten feet away.”
“Still.” He shrugs, eyes glinting. “It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
There’s a beat of charged silence, the kind that hums under the skin. My breath catches. I nod, wordless.
The hallway feels smaller with him beside me, his scent warm and steady, like cedarwood and cinnamon. My shoulder brushes his arm once, twice. Neither of us pulls away.
When we reach the door, I pause with my hand on the knob. Jamie’s gaze is intense in the low light, a flicker of something unspoken passing between us.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice softer than I intended. “For tonight. For all of this.”
His mouth quirks, and he takes a step closer. My pulse trips.
“I meant it, Cam,” he says quietly. “Anytime.”
The heat in his gaze settles low in my belly. For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to kiss me—if Iwanthim to. But then he nods, as if breaking his own spell, and steps back.
“Sleep well,” he murmurs.
I slip inside the room and close the door gently behind me, leaning against it for a breath, hand pressed to my fluttering chest. The room is cool and dark, and the scent of lavender from the linen spray Gram always uses still clings to the sheets. I sit on the bed for a while, just listening to the low murmur of voices downstairs.
Then a loud thunk.
“Ow. Damn it. Why is this doorframe so low?” The voice rumbling from below.
“Because it was built for humans, not lumbering tree giants,” Theo replies.
“You’re just mad because I got the last cinnamon roll.”
“He’s not mad,” Dane says. “He’s bitter. It’s different.”
Their banter fades into softer voices, and eventually into silence.
I pull the blanket over myself, safe in the familiar nest of Gram’s linens, the echo of their teasing still warming my chest. For the first time in a while, I don’t feel quite so alone.
And when sleep takes me, I go willingly.
Chapter nineteen
Theo
The house settles into quiet around us, a kind of hush that feels like it belongs more to forests and late night summer porches than a suburban living room. I lie on my back on the rug and a few pillows, one arm tucked behind my head, staring up at the ceiling fan that isn’t turning. Moonlight filters in through the front window, turning everything into shades of soft gray. The blanket covering my legs smells faintly of lavender and something sweet—sugar maybe. Cam.
Jamie’s to my right on the couch, curled up like a massive golden retriever who somehow believes he’s compact enough for couch life. Dane is sprawled across the recliner, long legs hooked over one arm, a pillow pressed against his chest like it might give him answers.
“Y’all still awake?” Jamie whispers.
Dane grunts. “Unfortunately.”
“Can’t sleep,” I mutter.
“No kidding. I can hear you thinking from over here,” Jamie teases.
“You can’t hear shit. You just like to talk when it’s dark,” Dane says.
