9. Gabrielle
Gabrielle
Cam is still watching me carefully.
His expressions have always been so hard to read.
Outside of him being goofy and the life of the party anywhere he goes, it’s always been harder to read his real thoughts. I think that’s how he copes. He covers things up with humor, keeps things light, so no one ever sees what’s really going on beneath the surface.
But right now? There’s no humor in his eyes. No teasing remark on the tip of his tongue.
Just him.
Watching me.
And all I can focus on is the weight of this conversation that’s hanging between us.
Curious about you. About…who you are now.
I meant it. The problem is, I don’t think I’m ready for the answer. I don’t think I’m ready to know he hasn’t changed, and he’s still the same boy I fell in love with so easily before.
A small, knowing smile appears on his lips. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m still the same guy,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “Just now, with a medical degree and a few more questionable life choices on my record.”
I raise a brow at him while taking a sip of my drink. “What kind of questionable life choices are we talking about?”
He shrugs, smirking. “Mostly ones like letting Wes convince me that putting an EKG on ourselves during a night shift to see whose heart rate spiked the fastest after chugging four energy drinks wouldn’t result in actual heart palpitations.”
I choke on my hot chocolate. “Cam!” I cough, shaking my head. “I feel like that goes against every medical principle ever.”
“Yeah, well, lessons were learned. Wes almost passed out, and I had to use bribery to get my hands on the security footage before we became a cautionary tale in one of our lectures.”
I blink at him. “I have so many follow-up questions, but first—who is Wes?”
Cam tilts his head slightly like he just realized I have no idea who he’s talking about.
“Oh. Right.” He scratches the back of his neck, “Wes is my best friend. We met in undergrad and did med school together. He’s in the same residency as me, also a Peds Oncologist. Kind of a douche, but in a lovable way.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So…a second version of you, but with worse judgment?”
Cam smirks. “Depends on the day. Sometimes, he’s the responsible one. Other times, he’s the reason we almost had to explain to an attending why there was an actual fire in the resident’s lounge.”
I stare at him. “You set something on fire?”
Cam pauses. “Not on purpose. It was a minor incident. Completely under control. And technically, it was Wes who—”
“Cam.”
“Fine, we set something on fire. But in our defense, I was sleep-deprived, and he thought using a Bunsen burner to reheat takeout was a great idea.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t even know where to begin with that.”
He grins. “Probably best if you don’t.”
I shake my head, but my chest tightens a little.
He has an entire life I don’t know about.
Friends, inside jokes, stories that don’t involve me.
It shouldn’t sting.
But it does.
I know it’s been twelve years, and it shouldn’t surprise me that his life has gone on like normal without me in it. Of course, it has. Both of our lives had to keep moving. But it’s one thing to know it and something entirely different to see it.
“When did you move back to the city?” he asks.
“Um, back when I started college, actually. But my mom is still back in New Jersey. She loves to come into the city, but after we all moved, she said she couldn’t go back to living on top of everyone like that again.”
Cam laughs. “Yeah, I can understand that. I miss New Jersey. It definitely still holds some of my favorite memories.”
I can’t help but blush at that, and I hope he doesn’t see it.
When our parents moved us out to New Jersey together, it quickly became a place we made our own little paradise. A lot of good memories were made there together as teenagers, but a lot of dark and sad moments were also created there after he left.
It gets quiet again, and I grip my mug tighter, trying to steal some of its warmth.
I can feel Cam’s stare. Watching me carefully like he always has, trying to figure out what thoughts are swimming around in my head, like he knows this conversation needs to go deeper, and we’re just tiptoeing around it.
And maybe we shouldn’t.
Maybe that’s why, before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Did you ever think about me? Through all these years?”
Cam stills.
I instantly regret asking it, wishing I could take it back. Maybe he didn’t want to rehash the past. Maybe he just wanted to catch up with an old friend. That’s all this was—
“I never stopped thinking about you, Gabrielle,” he says, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.
My heart seizes.
He says it so matter-of-factly, like he didn’t even need to think about it.
“Then why—” I pause, trying to keep my voice steady when I ask, “Why didn’t you try to find me?”
Cam drags a hand through his hair, shaking his head like he doesn’t even know where to start. “I wanted to. More times than I can count. I just…never followed through.”
“Why?” I ask quietly.
He hesitates for a beat. “Because I didn’t think you wanted me to, and…I told myself I needed to let you move on.”
I blink several times. A little puzzled.
That was not the answer I was expecting.
“What?” I scoff, narrowing my eyes at him. “What do you mean you didn’t think I wanted you to?”
Cam rubs the back of his neck, looking almost uncomfortable for the first time since I sat down with him.
“I don’t know, Gab. It all got really dark for a while, and I didn’t want you to see that.
And then after things were finally better…
there was just so much time that had passed.
I thought…maybe you had moved on. Maybe it would be better if I just left you alone. ”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You thought I wouldn’t want to hear from you? After everything?”
He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what I thought. All I know is that every time I got close to reaching out, I convinced myself it wasn’t a good idea.
That I never deserved you to begin with, and that I was never promised a good future I could give you, so it was probably better for you to have a clean slate.
Find someone better. Someone who wasn’t waiting to die. ”
I exhale, trying to process all of this. Because while I was spending years missing him, forcing myself to keep going without him, convincing myself he had moved on, he was doing the same thing for different reasons.
I set my mug down, leaning forward on the table slightly. “That wasn’t your decision to make,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
His eyes snap to mine, something almost sad sits there.
“I know…and I never stopped regretting it.”
Silence settles between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s just…heavy.
Twelve years of distance. Twelve years of so much left unsaid.
I should change the subject. Lighten things up. But I don’t want to.