10. Cameron
Cameron
Why didn’t you try to find me?
If she only knew just how many times I wanted to. How many times I tried to.
I thought, after all the time that had passed, that she would have moved on with her life in a way I no longer fit into anymore.
That’s what I told myself she needed to do.
She didn’t need to be attached to someone who had a high chance of dying early in life.
She had been cancer-free for a while before I relapsed that last time and had to leave.
I wanted her to have a normal life going forward.
Not stuck in the same cycle over and over again. I saw how it broke her each time.
If I’m being honest with myself, even back then, I never thought I was good enough for her, and sometimes I felt like leaving her behind gave her the chance to find someone who was.
But the more time that went by, the more I still wanted to be the someone who could become good enough for her.
No matter how many times I tried—really tried—I never fell in love again after Gabrielle.
I had hook-ups and not-so-serious relationships, but I could never get myself to feel the things I knew I was supposed to with anyone else. I could never feel the same way I felt with her. Trust me, I tried.
I tried to want someone else the way I wanted her. I tried to convince myself that what I had with her was just an innocent childhood love story. Something that didn’t mean as much as I had built up in my head.
For a while, I even started to resent Gabrielle for plaguing my love life. No woman was ever good enough, no woman met the standards she set for me.
I wanted to hate her for haunting every kiss I had. Every date. Every possible new start. Even showing up in my head every time I had another woman under me, making love to her memory instead of the woman I was with.
But how do you resent someone for something they didn’t even know they were doing?
How can you blame them for ruining you when they never asked you to let them go?
I never stood a chance with anyone else.
And sitting here now, looking at her, I know I never will.
“Are you happy?” Gabrielle asks, catching me completely off guard.
Happy?
“Happy in my career? Yeah. Happy with my accomplishments? Sure. Happy that I’m still here, living, fighting, not scared of dying anymore? Of course…but what does any of that matter if I don’t have someone to share it all with?”
I see her taking in my answer, thinking about what it means.
“Oh, so—you’re…single ?” she asks.
I wanted to laugh at how adorable she was right now, but I don’t want her to think I’m laughing at her. I think her being so naive about what I feel for her is the sweetest thing in the world. It makes it that much more special.
“Yeah. I don’t really do relationships anymore. I tried, but they never worked.”
“Oh—yeah, that makes sense. Seems like your life is pretty hectic too. You probably don’t have a lot of time for a relationship either.”
“Yeah,” I reply, watching the way her mood shifts.
“Are you seeing anyone?” I ask, needing to know if I’m already too late and someone else has her heart.
Honestly, thinking about it now, I don’t know why I asked. I’m not sure I can handle it if I know someone now has her the way I’ve wanted to have her for years.
I can’t think about someone else touching her the way I used to. Being obsessed with her the way I was—am.
I don’t want to know if someone else has been sharing all the moments I’ve missed out on with her—
“No. I’m not,” she answers.
Relief washes over me.
It’s short-lived, though. Replaced with the very real and obvious possibility that just because she’s single, doesn’t mean she’ll want any of those things with me again.
Knowing I can’t handle any rejection from her, I steer the conversation back into a safe, comfortable, friendly territory.
“So…how much do you still hate sports?”
“I never said I hated sports,” she huffs.
“You said, and I quote, ‘I would never torture myself watching men barbarically throw around balls and pretend it’s not just a pissing contest disguised as an event they can make other people pay to watch’.”
“Okay, sixteen-year-old Gabrielle was a little harsh and opinionated, I will admit. She always came to watch you, though. Cheered you on from the sidelines, even when she didn’t know what was happening.
Now I would say she’s more selectively appreciative of certain sporting events.
Especially when there’s alcohol involved,” she retorts.
“You were always my favorite fan,” I tease. “But, selective, huh?” I raise a brow. “Does that mean there’s hope you’ll come watch me make a fool of myself in a flag football game the doctors all play in up at Bryant Park?”
She tilts her head, curiosity playing on her face now. “Flag football team, huh? Isn’t that one of those sports used as an excuse for men to pretend they could have been a real athlete?”
“Okay, ouch…but yes—that’s exactly what it is. And it’s necessary for the male ego, so don’t let them know you’re in on the secret.”
“I don’t know, Cam…”
I can see her pulling back again, but I’m not letting her off that easily this time. At this point, I’ll get down on my knees and beg for this girl to stay in my life this time, in any way possible.
I know how pathetic that sounds, but it’s the truth. We didn’t run into each other after this long just to go back to our lives without each other in them. Even if she just wants a friendship, I’ll give her anything she asks for.
And anything she’ll give me, I’ll take.
“Look, it’s just a casual hangout. Low expectations and a good time with good people. And we normally just grab dinner and drinks after, so it will be pretty laid back.”
She shifts in her seat a little, like she’s weighing her options.
“Okay, but I’m bringing a friend, and a cooler of alcohol, and your other doctor friends better be just as hot as you are, so it’s worth watching.”
“So you still think I’m hot, Gab?”
She scoffs, “Oh please, I’ve never needed to stroke your ego in that department, Cam.”
“But I always liked it when you did,” I say, winking at her.
She just shakes her head and laughs.
“I’ll text you the details, okay?”
“Okay,” she answers softly.
We both stand up after I give the waiter the bill back.
I step closer to her, my voice low now, softer. “It was really good seeing you again and catching up.” I pause, watching the way she swallows. “But being back around you feels too good to walk away from again, Gab. So don’t make me.”
She drops her gaze and then looks back up at my eyes. “Just try not to run off for another twelve years and ghost me, okay?”
“Promise,” I say, holding up my pinky. “Promises are only legally bound by the pinky,” I add, holding mine out to her like we’re still kids.
She hesitates and then reaches up, locking our pinkies together, and a shot of electricity shoots through me at the simple touch.
I wonder if she remembers the little handshake we used to do every time we made a pinky promise to each other.
I fight the urge to do it and embarrass myself.
We drop our hands, and both stand there for a moment, not wanting to walk away.
Before she can step away, I move—slow and careful, like I’m giving her every chance to back out. But she doesn’t. She just watches me.
I slide an arm around her waist, pulling her into a hug.
My touch is careful but firm, like I need her to know—this isn’t just a polite hug.
This is me memorizing how she feels in my arms again.
This is me grounding myself in the reality that she’s here, that I’m here, that somehow, after all this time, we’re in the same space again.
She instantly melts into my arms, and it feels right.
I don’t want to mess any of this up with her. I don’t want to push her too fast. I want to keep her this time.
For as long as I’m alive, I swear I’m not letting her slip away again.
She exhales softly against my chest, hugging me back, and I close my eyes for just a second, memorizing everything—the way she fits against me, the way her fingers curl slightly into my jacket like she doesn’t want to let go either.
How did I survive all those years without this?
I hold her there, tightening my grip just a little. Not enough to make her pull away, just enough to let her know that this hug means something more. That she means something more. That even if we don’t have the words for it yet, something between us is still there.
Then she shifts, and I feel it before she even moves, the way her body tenses up slightly, the way she exhales like she’s pulling herself back into reality.
I don’t want to let go, but I do, slowly, hating how it feels.
She steps back, her arms falling to her sides, and her eyes looking up to meet mine. There’s something in her expression I can’t quite read, something cautious.
And then she smiles just a little, easing the tension. “Still obnoxiously good at those, huh?”
I laugh quietly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Not my fault you turn into putty the second I touch you.”
She rolls her eyes while shaking her head. “Still delusional, huh?”
At least she’s smiling. And if I didn’t already know how utterly screwed I was when it came to this girl, that smile would seal it.
I take a slow step back, nodding toward the door. “I’ll text you the details for the game?”
She hesitates for just a fraction of a second before nodding. “Yeah, sounds good.”
At least I have another reason to see her again, and I’ll take any excuse at this point to be around her.
I pause to look at her one more time before turning toward the door. “See you soon, Voss.”
And as I step outside into the cool air, I swear—I feel lighter than I have in years.