Page 51 of Knot Your Sugar Rush
“Look ahead,” Dane calls, his voice carrying easily over the water.
I follow his gaze—and there it is.
The island rises out of the glittering expanse like something out of a dream. Lush and green, its forested slopes tumble toward pale strips of sand, the treeline hugging the coastline in a deep emerald band. Cliffs on the far side gleam pale gold in the sunlight, waves breaking white at their base. From here, I can’t see much beyond the first rise of trees, but there’s a hush about it, even from this distance, that feels almost… expectant.
“Looks untouched,” I murmur.
Theo closes his book, smiling faintly. “It nearly is. Belonged to the Harroway family for generations. Old money, old manners. They built a mansion up there—” he gestures toward the highest point “—but no one’s lived there for decades. Family line died out, or so the story goes.”
Jamie leans in, grinning. “Some say the place is haunted. Others say they just left one day, no warning, and no one’s ever figured out why.”
“Cheerful,” I tease, though I can’t help glancing toward the dense green as if the trees might be listening.
The closer we get, the more the details sharpen—the way sunlight glitters off hidden inlets, the flash of seabirds circling overhead, the sudden scent of pine and damp earth carried across the water. My pulse skips a little. This is real. We’re actually here.
The boat eases into a sheltered cove, the water here calm and impossibly clear, shifting from deep blue to jewel-green over the sandy shallows. Dane cuts the motor, letting us drift the last few feet toward the dock—if you can call the weathered stretch of planks a dock. It looks like it’s been here as long as the trees.
Jamie hops out first, tying us off, then offers me a hand. I take it, the sun hot on my skin, the wood warm under my sandals as I step onto solid ground.
“Welcome to Tern Hollow,” Theo says with mock formality, sweeping an arm toward the wild green.
I laugh, and my stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly enough for all three of them to hear.
“Guess we know what’s next,” Jamie says.
We haul a blanket, a basket, and a small cooler up the gentle slope beyond the dock, finding a patch of soft grass beneath a wide-limbed tree. The air here smells different—freshwater from somewhere inland mixing with the heady perfume of blooming wildflowers. Bees hum lazily, and every so often a salt-tinged breeze slips in from the cove to cool the heat.
Theo spreads the blanket, smoothing the corners like a man on a mission. Jamie starts unloading the basket: sandwiches wrapped in paper, chunks of sharp cheddar, crisp apples, a container of Theo’s suspiciously perfect scones. Dane sets the cooler down with a clink of bottles.
I kick off my sandals and curl my toes into the grass. The earth is warm from the sun, and I can’t help the sigh that escapes me. “This is perfect.”
“Good food, good view, good company,” Jamie agrees, passing me a sandwich.
I take a bite and nearly groan—soft bread, cool chicken, just the right hint of tang from the mustard. Theo pours tea from a thermos into enamel mugs, and the scent of it—dark, malty—mingles with the grassy sweetness in the air.
We eat and talk lazily, swapping bits of Starling Grove trivia and debating whether the Harroway mansion is more likely to be full of ghosts or dust. Dane leans back on one elbow, hat tipped forward to shade his eyes, smiling faintly at something Theo says.
The sun filters through the tree above us in shifting dapples, warm on my skin, the sough of the breeze like a lullaby. Thatstrange heaviness in my belly is still there, but wrapped now in the kind of ease I haven’t felt in years.
I could stay here forever, I think. Just like this.
***
The last crumbs of scone are gone, the mugs drained, and we lounge for a few more minutes in that hazy, sun-drowsy state that comes after a good meal. A gull cries overhead, the sound carrying across the cove, and the breeze shifts—bringing with it the green, wet scent of the forest ahead.
I sit up, brushing grass from my shorts, but there’s a restless hum under my skin that wasn’t there before. Like my body’s impatient to move, to do something. My pulse feels a little too quick for how relaxed I should be.
“You ready?” Theo asks, already gathering the plates into the basket.
“Absolutely.” I smile, partly because I am, and partly to hide how keyed-up I feel.
We pack up and start toward the tree line. The ground slopes gently upward, the grass giving way to leaf litter and moss as the shadows grow deeper. The forest smells alive—pine and damp earth, threaded with something sweet I can’t quite place. Every scent feels… sharper, more distinct. I can pick out the resin of sap from the bark, the faint musk of some small animal that darted away ahead of us. Even the salt lingering on Dane’s shirt from the boat ride is more noticeable, a grounding counterpoint to the wild green.
Dane takes the lead, navigating the faint trail like it’s second nature, his shoulders broad and steady in front of me. Jamie lags a little behind, scanning the undergrowth with the kind of alertness that makes me wonder if he’s looking for flowers or trouble. Theo walks beside me, pointing out little things—an oldbird’s nest tucked in the crook of a branch, the way certain ferns curl when you brush them.
I laugh when a leaf drops onto his hair, and he tips his head at me, a smile tugging his mouth. “Good to see you laughing,” he says.
“It’s hard not to, with you three.”
