Cameron
Walking back to the elevators with the other doctors, I can’t help but replay her voice over and over in my mind.
You know when you get a song stuck in your head, so you play it on repeat until you get sick of it and start to hate it?
I still haven’t gotten to the point where I hate the melody of her voice being played on repeat in my head. I could keep it on a loop and be satisfied forever.
Her face has always been etched into my memories over the years that we were apart, but now it’s been replaced with an older, even more beautiful version to obsess over.
I can’t help but sulk a little over the way she hesitated when I told her I wanted to see her again, like the thought of being around me again seemed too painful for her.
We were both left with broken hearts at sixteen when we were ripped from each other’s lives.
At the time, I wanted to hate my parents so much for taking me from her, but I couldn’t.
I knew how much the financial burden of my treatments and the new trial weighed on them.
I knew they were only doing what they could to give me a fighting chance against the cruel disease that Acute Myeloid Leukemia was.
Then, when my sickness took a turn for the worse, I thought that was it.
I thought I wasn’t going to make it much longer.
So I made the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make and cut her out of my life.
I didn’t want her to know how bad it was, and I didn’t want her to watch me die.
I wanted her to move on so it wouldn’t hurt her as badly.
That’s what my sixteen-year-old brain told me was the right thing to do.
My chest feels too tight, too full, too overwhelmed with the thought of letting her go again after I’ve spent years dreaming about this exact moment of seeing her again.
I would be lying if I said the thought of magically running into her in this city wasn’t a contributing factor to my decision to transfer here.
Let’s be real, it was the only reason I wanted to be here, to feel connected again to the only girl I’ve ever loved.
Never thought I would get lucky enough for it to actually happen. Let alone on my first day back in the hospital.
How can this not be fate?
“Who’s the beautiful mystery girl, Dr. Hayes?” Wes asks, bringing me back out of my thoughts.
“Huh, oh, that was…that was Gabrielle,” I answer, trying to get my head straight again.
“That was Gabrielle?” Wes says dramatically. “Damn, you always talk about how beautiful she was, but that’s another level, man. I think I might finally understand your obsession over the girl you haven’t seen in twelve years,” he says, laughing in disbelief.
I just shake my head at him.
Westly Reed—aka Wes—and I have been best friends since undergrad.
We made a pact that we would always go wherever the other went.
So when he chose D.C for residency, that’s where we went, and when I told him I needed a change and wanted to go back to New York, he gave in and transferred with me.
He’s family…the closest thing to a brother I have.
Wes nudges my shoulder, “Twelve years apart, and she still has you looking like a love-sick puppy.”
I roll my eyes, leaning back against the wall as the elevator doors close. “Shut up.”
“So…” He looks at me, lifting his brows, “you gonna see her again or what? Cause how crazy is that? To run into her on your first day back? What the hell?!”
“I know. And I’m not sure. I gave her my number but…” I say, trailing off, not wanting to acknowledge the way she basically wanted to run as far away from me as possible.
Wes hums knowingly. “So, what I’m hearing is you’re gonna sit around staring at your phone like a lovesick idiot until she decides to use it?”
I shoot him a glare. But he’s not wrong.
Just as I’m about to shoot him back a response to play down my obvious feelings, the elevator dings and the doors open up on our floor.
Our second set of rounds are next, and I should be staying focused, pushing my personal life aside like I always do when I put on my white coat. But my chest still feels too tight, my thoughts still tangled up in her.
As we round the corner, my vision suddenly blurs for a split second.
It’s fast, barely noticeable—just a quick wave of dizziness that makes me slow my step.
I grip the stethoscope slung around my neck, roll my shoulders, and shake it off.
Probably just dehydration…or the fact that I haven’t eaten since yesterday.
Westly must notice, though, because he slows beside me, eyeing me. “You good? Gabrielle has you tripping that badly already?”
I force a smirk. “You’re just jealous that I ran into my long-lost soulmate while you’re still out here collecting meaningless phone numbers and bed buddies.”
Westly scoffs, shaking his head. “Please. That love sickness is a disease I refuse to catch.” He side-eyes me, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“You swore you never wanted to catch it again, either, Dr. McDreamy Jr. Sure looks like you’ve got a bad case now.
Better go get that checked out.” He pauses for a moment.
“Also, get whatever is going on with you checked out. Don’t try to play it off.
You look like you’re about to pass out, and if you dramatically collapse in front of Dr. Covington, just know I’m stepping over your body and keeping it moving. ”
I flip him off, pushing the moment aside. It’s nothing. Just been a long morning.
And I have much bigger things to think about than a second of dizziness.
I can’t believe Gabrielle Voss is back in my orbit again.
* * *
If I could have my pick of any other attending Doctor besides Dr. Covington right now, I would gladly jump ship. Too bad he’s an amazing pediatric oncologist despite his lack of a decent personality and not an ounce of humor in his body.
The hospital lights are so bright today, the sound of the machines beeping and the carts rolling down the hallway are all turning into a dull ache around my temples as we keep moving from one patient’s room to the next.
I need to be focused. But I can’t help my mind from slipping back to Gabrielle.
Thinking about the way she hesitated is stuck on repeat in my mind.
What am I going to have to do to win her over again? Even if it’s just as friends. Which, let’s be honest, has never been the only thing Gabrielle was to me.
I would still take it. I would take anything with her.
I can’t imagine the fate of us running into each other on my first day back here and then never being around her again.
That would be a pretty cruel joke from the universe.
I shake the thoughts off as we step back into the hallway after finishing up with a patient, falling into place beside Wes as Dr. Covington reads over the charts out loud. The second set of rounds for the day has just started, and he’s already looking irritated, which is not a good sign.
“Dr. Reed,” Covington says, looking to Wes. “Your patient, Room 14, is a ten-year-old male who underwent a recent stem cell transplant. What’s the biggest post-op concern in his case?”
Wes responds, without missing a beat, “Graft-versus-host disease. We’re monitoring for skin rashes, liver dysfunction, and gastrointestinal symptoms. His labs this morning showed mild elevation in liver enzymes, but nothing that’s alarming yet.”
Covington gives him a tight nod before turning to me now.
“Dr. Hayes. Room 12. We have a twelve-year-old female, ALL relapse. She started her new chemo treatment yesterday. What is the primary concern in the first forty-eight hours of induction therapy?”
I know this. I’ve answered this question a hundred times before. I also know very well everything there is to know about ALL, since that’s what Gabrielle was diagnosed with when we were kids.
But when I go to open my mouth, a wave of light-headedness crashes over me. It’s quick but intense.
The room tilts for a split second.
I blink hard, gripping my clipboard tighter, trying to right myself.
What the hell is going on today?
It’s fast, barely noticeable, but enough to make me feel like I just stepped off a moving sidewalk without any warning.
I force my breath to be steady and try to answer, keeping my voice as even as possible, brushing off whatever that was.
“Um, Tumor lysis syndrome? Rapid cell breakdown can lead to electrolyte imbalances, renal failure, and cardiac complications. We need to monitor potassium, uric acid, and…calcium levels closely.”
Covington watches me for a second, not saying anything. Just keeps a blank expression, and then he gives me a small nod. “Correct.”
I release a slow breath, keeping my face neutral.
But when I glance to my right, Wes is already looking at me, and not his usual amused, smug expression. This one is different, more…concerned.
I avoid his stare, rolling my shoulders as we move on.
As soon as we stepped into the residents’ lounge, Wes turns to me, getting close and asking in a low voice so the other doctors won’t hear him. “Cam, seriously. You good?”
I waved him off. “Yeah, I just need to eat something. All I’ve ingested today was that hot chocolate.”
He snorts. “Dude, what are you, five?”
I glare at him as I reach into the lounge’s fridge, grab my lunch, and take off the lid of the glass container. “Wasn’t in the mood for coffee,” I say, shrugging.
“Be for real. You had a crap morning and let Dr. Covington get under your skin, so you turned to that nasty chocolate water for comfort because you can’t let go of the safety blanket it’s been for you since you were a kid.”
I look at him, appalled that he’s reading me like a book. “Okaaaay…you don’t need to air out my trauma response like that, dude.”
He gives me a sympathetic look before saying, “Every time you’ve had a rough day since I’ve known you, you go straight for that crap.
You flunked that one organic chem test? Hot chocolate.
That girl in med school dumped you? Hot chocolate.
That first kid coded during your rotation?
I had to physically remove you from the vending machine before you overdosed on Swiss Miss. ”
I roll my eyes, taking my food out of the microwave. “Okay, first of all, I don’t even remember the organic chem thing.”
“Bull,” he chuckles, “that test was hella hard. I almost took a Swiss pack from your stash.”
“And second, I did not have a Swiss Miss problem.”
Wes lifts a brow, unimpressed. “No, you had a ‘crap day equals hot chocolate’ problem.”
I think I have more of a ‘holding on to and obsessing over old memories’ problem. That much is apparent, especially after seeing Gabrielle today. But I keep that to myself. Wes gives me enough crap on a daily basis as it is. I don’t need to give him more ammo to torture me with.
I take the first bite of my food, and Wes doesn’t even try to hide the way he’s watching me, like he’s waiting for me to keel over mid-chew.
I sigh, setting my fork down just to glare at him. “Can you not stare at me like that? I’m fine.”
Wes smirks, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “Yeah, well, try not to face-plant into your lunch. You look terrible.”
I flip him off without looking up, but even as I eat, I can feel his stare still lingering, still assessing.
Truthfully, I feel better now that I’ve actually eaten, but there’s still this weird weight pressing at the back of my skull. A nagging sensation I can’t quite shake. Not about my health. Not about the dizziness.
About Gabrielle.
I don’t know why I expected her to be as excited to see me as I was to see her. Maybe some naive part of me thought she’d smile the way she used to, throw her arms around me, and say something ridiculous like, “Took you long enough to come back to me.”
Instead, she seemed like she was searching for a way to nicely blow me off.
I’m not sure if she’ll call. I don’t know if she even wants to, but I meant what I said to her. She knows where to find me and how to contact me.
And I really, really hope she does.