Chapter 27
Cami
Paxton: What do you mean you’re at a hospital in VERMONT?
Blinking at my phone screen, I re-read the all caps and remind myself this is how my best friend texts when he’s panicked and fully dramatic.
Paxton: I don’t text for a few days, and suddenly you’re a repeat customer?? In another state??
I shake my head, smiling despite the antiseptic air and the hum of waiting-room fluorescent lights overhead.
Paxton: Honey, please tell me you’re simply running around collecting patient bracelets like souvenirs.
A quiet laugh escapes me, catching in my throat as I take in his string of messages. Leave it to Paxton to turn concern into a full-on comedic skit.
Staring down at my phone, I thumb my reply.
Me: Knox’s grandpa fell. We drove up this morning. He’s with his mom, grandma, and grandpa right now.
After hitting send, I breathe in the familiar, cedar-laced trace of Knox’s cologne woven into the jacket draped over my shoulders—a scent that feels a little too much like home.
Three dots bounce. Stop. Bounce again.
Paxton: Wait. Back the eff up. You DROVE to Vermont with Mr. Situationship?
Paxton: As in road snacks, Starbies stops, and gas station pee breaks?
Paxton: Hope his grandpa is okay.
Paxton: GIRL. You’re wandering dangerously close to “meeting-the-family” territory.
Paxton: When. Is. The. Wedding?
I roll my eyes at his last message. Only Paxton would spiral from zero to vows in under a minute. But dangerously close might be underselling it.
Knox had his hand in mine for most of the drive, which would’ve been fine if my heart hadn’t acted like we’d just eloped. And don’t even get me started on how he opened up.
Me: Stop. It’s not like that. He needed support. I came. That’s all.
I hit send, my nose growing faster than Pinocchio’s, because maybe it is like that. Maybe even more.
Paxton: Since you’re already at the hospital, might as well tell them to admit you for chronic, delulu-level denial.
Me: Ha-ha-ha.
My gaze lifts toward the hallway, where Knox’s conversation with hospital staff drifts from the nurses’ station, threaded with concern. And even though the bouncing bubbles tell me my unruly bestie’s typing again, I fire off another text.
Me: Gotta run. Knox is headed back over to me. I’ll check in later.
I lock my phone screen just as Knox rounds the corner. His shoulders look heavier than they did an hour ago, posture pulled tight like he’s holding himself together through muscle memory alone.
He spots me and tries for a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Sorry that took a while.” He lowers himself into the chair beside me, vinyl squeaking under his weight. “Grandpa’s awake. They’re keeping him overnight for observation.”
Relief unfurls through me. “That’s good news.”
“Yeah.” His voice is rougher now, like it’s been sanded down. “He’s in pain but still himself. Told the nurse their coffee tasted like burnt regret.”
Laughter spills from my lips. “That’s kinda funny.”
Knox huffs a small smile, then goes quiet, hand resting on his thigh. I reach over, threading my fingers through his, and his hand closes around mine right away, firm.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods, eyes on speckled laminate flooring beneath his shoes. “Just tired. Seeing him like that…” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening. “Maybe incidents like these hit different when it’s someone who used to seem unbreakable.”
I lean closer until my shoulder brushes his, the hush between us filling the space where words would only get in the way.
After a moment, Knox nudges my shoulder. “Told him about you. Mom and Grandma, too.”
Eyes wide, I ask, “What did you tell them?”
“Everything. How we met. Stripe and Shadow. That Millie, who Grandma and Grandpa know well, came home early, which led to you moving in. I even told them about our no-real-life rule. No last names. No strings. Just summer. And how that agreement’s grown somewhat…complicated.”
My pulse skips. “Complicated how?”
He tilts his head, that half-smile curving his mouth. “Complicated as in you’re not just the hot girl next door anymore.”
His words hang there, crackling the air between us.
“So…” A shaky laugh slips out. “What am I?”
His mouth curves, eyes molten as his hand tightens around mine. “Someone who feels a lot less like ‘just summer’…and a lot more like all seasons.”
Butterflies swirl low in my belly as the hum of waiting-room chatter fades beneath what we’re still not saying aloud.
“Better be careful,” I murmur. “You’re drifting awfully close to breaching our no-feelings contract.”
Knox leans in, breath brushing my lips, a low rumble meant only for me. “Are you going to sue me, Cami?”
My lips part, but I don’t trust what might come out. So, instead, I draw a slow breath, fingers tightening around his like I can hold this moment still.
“Actually,” I manage, mouth tilting at the corner, “we could settle out of court…”
A nurse passes by, the moment thinning but never breaking.
Several beats pass before Knox glances toward the hallway, then back to me. “C’mon, Bubble Girl. They’re excited to meet you.”
“Wait.” My heart stumbles. “Now?”
He nods, lips twitching into that almost-smile. “Mom insisted. Said she wants to thank the woman who drove all this way with me.”
Somewhere between panic and excitement, my stomach dips. “Knox—”
He squeezes my hand, his thumb tracing slow circles against my skin. “You’ll be fine. I told you on the drive up, they’re going to love you.”
I swallow hard. “Yeah, well, you’re biased.”
“True.” He gets to his feet. “But I’m also right.”
The look he gives me as he tugs me off the seat makes it hard to breathe.
Guess we’re really doing this.
We walk down the hall, hand in hand, my pulse like a hammer. I’ve never met anyone’s family before. Never been someone worth introducing. Somehow, that thought is louder than my heartbeat.
Knox slows outside the hospital room, his hand at the small of my back. Through the narrow window set into the door, I catch a glimpse of three people: one propped in a hospital bed, two leaning close, mid-conversation.
Knox’s gaze meets mine. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I whisper, pulse thrumming.
He gives a light squeeze at my waist, then pushes the door open.
A woman with calm confidence and kind eyes looks up first. Her hair’s pulled into a low twist, silver strands catching the fluorescent light. “You must be Cami,” she says, now standing. “I’m Claire. And I’m a hugger.”
Before I can react, she pulls me into a warm, unapologetic embrace.
“Oh,” I manage, laughing softly. “Okay. Hugger noted.”
From the chair near the bed, an older woman sets down her knitting with a knowing smile. “Correction, dear. We’re huggers.”
And then I’m hugged again, one that makes you feel instantly claimed.
When she releases me, the man in the bed raises a hand with an IV line taped to it. “I’ll hug ya too, soon as I escape from this nightmare.”
“Deal.” I fight back a silly grin. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Knox chuckles, moving closer to the bed. “Cami, this is my mom, Claire. And my grandparents, Hazel and Sy.”
Sy gives Knox a lazy salute. “You picked a good one, kid.”
“Dad…” Claire warns under her breath, though her smile doesn’t fade. She turns to me. “You’re beautiful, Cami. And brave. Volunteering to drive three hours with this guy?”
“Hey,” Knox protests. “I was excellent company.”
“Mm-hm,” she says, eyes twinkling. “I’m sure you were.”
“He handled the playlist and only got us lost once, right after insisting the GPS was wrong,” I offer.
Hazel laughs. “Then you’re a saint. He gets his stubborn streak from his grandfather, but his taste in music? That’s all Claire.”
Knox groans. “Here we go.”
The laughter that follows is light and real, and something in my chest eases.
Hazel pats my hand, her eyes crinkling. “You’ll stay at the house, of course. Both of you. No arguments.”
When Knox starts to protest, Hazel lifts a single brow that could silence a courtroom.
“Don’t even think about a crummy hotel,” she says. “You know the guest suite is always ready. You’ll both be comfortable.”
Claire nods. “You’ll stay at least a few days, won’t you? We’d love the company.”
Knox sighs. “That’s the plan.”
Hazel smiles, looking between us. “Then it’s settled.”
Sy leans back against the pillows, a grin that might be pure mischief—or medication-induced. “Good. More chances to embarrass my grandson. Best medicine there is.”