21. Gabrielle
Gabrielle
I don’t know what it is about Cam in scrubs. Maybe I’m ovulating.
Maybe it’s the exhaustion in his eyes, the slight stubble on his jaw from a long shift, or the way his sleeves are pushed up just enough to reveal his perfect arms. Maybe it’s just…
him…sitting across from me on my living room floor, his long legs stretched out under the coffee table, looking like he’s finally somewhere he can relax.
We’re playing Scrabble.
It’s one of the many games we were obsessed with as teenagers, stuck in a hospital room with nothing else to do.
We would always raid the nurse’s closet, where they had all the best board games hidden away, to pull out for when a kid was having a bad day and play one with them.
Cam is losing miserably right now.
“Cam,” I deadpan, staring at the board. “What the hell is ‘zorp’?”
He smirks, leaning back on his hands. “It’s a word.”
“It’s absolutely not.”
“Oh, so now you’re a dictionary?”
I roll my eyes, reaching for my phone. “Fine. I’ll look it up.”
“Cheating,” he whines.
I snort. “I’m sorry—me cheating? You just made up a whole word.”
Cam just grins. “I don’t remember you being this competitive as kids.”
I shoot him a look. “Oh, please. You were the worst sore loser back in the day.”
“Was not.”
“Were too. You threw an actual tantrum when I beat you in Mario Kart once.”
His jaw drops. “That is slander. I had the right to be upset. You hit me with a red shell right before the finish line.”
I shrug, smug. “Survival of the fittest.”
Cam shakes his head, reaching for his water. “I really should’ve known better than to agree to this game.”
I watch him take a sip, my eyes lingering a little too long.
There’s something about having him here, in my space, that makes my heart happy. It’s been like this since that night at the drive-in. This feeling that we’re more now, but still haven’t officially given it a title. Although we don’t need to. We know what we mean to each other.
And maybe it’s that thought that makes me blurt out something I’ve been too scared to bring up until now—
“So…when do we have the ex’s talk?”
Cam chokes on his water, coughing as he sets the bottle down. “Damn, that came out of nowhere.”
I smirk. “What? Scared of the ghosts in your closet?”
He clears his throat, still eyeing me. “Not scared, just…surprised. But fine. You wanna go there?”
I nod, waiting.
Cam leans forward on his elbows, tilting his head. “You want the truth?”
“Always.”
He exhales, tapping his fingers against the table. “There’s not much to say. There are very few, and none of them ever really…mattered.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s kind of a depressing answer.”
“Not really.” He shrugs. “Just proves I never stopped being stuck on someone else.”
My stomach tightens at that, but I try to keep my voice even. “And who would that be?”
His eyes flick to mine. “Just someone special enough to invade my mind for twelve years when they weren’t even around.”
I swallow, looking away before I let myself get too caught up in what he’s saying.
Cam’s expression darkens slightly. “Your turn. Tell me about all the men I should hate.”
I hesitate, but then sigh. “The last one was…pretty bad.”
His jaw tics. “How bad?”
I shake my head, not really wanting to go into all the details of William.
“He wasn’t physically abusive or anything.
He was just…controlling, and manipulative.
Knew exactly how to make me feel like I wasn’t enough or like I was the lucky one to have him, even when I was miserable in the relationship.
Then, to put the cherry on top of it all, he cheated on me with one of our vet assistants at the clinic.
I still have to be around them both at work. ”
Cam’s whole posture changes. He sits up straighter, his hand flexing against his knee. He’s visibly trying not to look pissed.
“You still have to see him at work?” he asks, voice tight.
I nod. “He’s my boss technically.”
Cam’s eyes darken, his jaw clenching hard enough that I swear I hear his teeth grinding.
“Cam,” I sigh, nudging his foot with mine. “Don’t do that face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you look like you’re planning the full fight you want to have with him in your head.”
He exhales, shaking his head. “I mean, can you blame me? Kicking his ass sounds pretty nice.”
I snort. “Yeah, because that would look so good for me professionally.”
“I wouldn’t do it at your job. I’d catch him out in a back alleyway in the city, where no one would even bat an eye at me pummeling his face in,” he tells me, as if that makes it better.
I laugh.
It feels good seeing how much he cares.
His voice softens suddenly. “You know I’d never do that to you, right?”
I look up at him, my heart stumbling over itself at the reassurance.
“The days of me being able to even look at another woman the way I look at you?” He shakes his head. “Long gone, Gabrielle.”
Before I can respond, he reaches for me and pulls me onto his lap.
I let out a small gasp, my hands instinctively going to his shoulders. He just holds me there, leaning his back against the couch, and looking up at me.
“You’ve always been it for me,” he murmurs. His hands are warm as they slide up to cradle my face. “I’ve spent twelve years dreaming of what it would be like to have you back and what I would do if I ever had another chance with you. I would never want to screw this up.”
Without missing a beat, he kisses me. Taking his time and savoring every second.
I shift on his lap, pressing closer into him. And damn, it feels so good, so familiar. It feels like the past. Like the reckless, head-over-heels, no regard way we used to love each other.
I smile against his lips. “Are you trying to take me back down another memory lane, Cam?”
Cam laughs, lips brushing against my jaw. “When I do…I promise it will be nothing like you remember.”
I arch a brow, teasing. “Oh yeah?”
He grins, trailing kisses down my neck before pulling back just slightly. “Yeah, but I’m not rushing this.”
I lean my forehead against his, trying to steady my breathing. When I do, I notice his skin is burning up.
I pull back, frowning. “Cam…are you feeling okay?”
He blinks like he’s trying to shake off the haze he was just in. “What?”
“You feel like you have a fever.”
He exhales through his nose, gaining his composure. “I’ve been feeling okay. Maybe a little off, but not in a sick kind of way. Probably just exhaustion from work.”
I cup his cheek, feeling the heat radiating off him. “You sure?”
He smirks lazily. “What, are you offering to take care of me if I am?”
I roll my eyes. “If you start feeling worse, yes.”
Cam hums, eyes flicking to my lips again. “Mmm, I might have to play sick just to have an excuse for you to role-play as my personal nurse. It would check off at least two of the many fantasies I’ve imagined you in.”
I smack his arm lightly. “Cam.”
He chuckles, holding me tighter, resting his forehead against mine. “I’m okay, Gab. I’ll get some rest on my day off and see if it goes away.”
I sigh but nod, still unconvinced.
* * *
When we finally untangle ourselves from each other later in the night, Cam tells me he needs to go home, take a shower, and get some sleep before his next shift at the hospital.
“You know…you could always stay the night if you wanted. I’ve always hated how empty the bed feels sleeping all alone in it,” I tell him dramatically.
Cam laughs, bringing his hand up to cup my face, “Gabrielle. You’re not making the not rushing this part easy right now with that invitation.”
He pulls me in, and I can feel just how much he’s fighting for control—every bit of that restraint pressed firmly against me.
I smirk, tilting my head slightly. My fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his stomach. “I think twelve years counts as not rushing, Cam.”
He lets out a long exhale, his grip on my waist tightening. “Gabrielle,” he warns, but his voice is strained like he’s already close to showing how little restraint he has left.
I press a little closer, my lips grazing just under his jaw. “Come on, Dr. Hayes,” I whisper, letting my fingers trail lower to the waistband of his scrubs. “Show me how good your bedside manners are.”
He groans, dropping his head back for half a second like he’s about to give in, then he grips my wrists, stopping me. His chest rises and falls heavily.
“You mean too much for me to do any part of this casually.”
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering against his touch. “And what if I don’t want to wait?”
He chuckles, but it’s rough, pained like he’s barely holding himself together. “Then you better find a way to distract yourself, because I’m not messing this up.”
I groan, dropping my head against his chest. “You’re so unfair.”
He laughs, tilting my chin up to steal one last kiss. “Go to bed, trouble.”
I huff, watching as he stands, adjusting himself with a quiet, muttered string of curses.
He grabs his keys, then looks back at me like he’s debating on whether to actually leave or not.
“I’ll text you when I get home,” he says.
“You better.”
He smirks, then, before I can say anything else, he’s out the door, leaving me completely wrecked.
I walk over and flop back against the couch, exhaling hard.
I am so screwed when it comes to him.