30. Cameron
Cameron
I weave through the crowd, drinks in hand, making my way back to the table where Gabrielle, Wes, and Kinsley are all waiting. The fundraiser has been fine—as fine as these snobby fundraising events can be.
At least I was semi-able to get through that introduction to Gabrielle’s ex.
A douchebag like him never deserved to call someone like Gabrielle his.
I look up and spot her across the room, laughing at something Wes is saying.
She’s beautiful tonight.
I couldn’t be luckier.
Things are going great.
But, as I’m walking back to our table—
Everything tilts out of nowhere. My vision blurs as the room spins around me like I just jumped off a moving train. I stumble, gripping the back of a chair to steady myself.
My hands feel weak as I try to find some grip, not having the strength to keep myself up. My chest tightens like bricks are suddenly being placed on it, and suddenly, it’s hard to catch my breath at all.
Okay, so…not great.
I blink hard, trying to clear the haze in my head, and push forward. I Just need to get back to Gabrielle and sit down for a second.
But my body has other plans. Halfway to the table, my legs give out. The glasses slip from my hands, shattering against the floor, and the last thing I see before everything goes black is Gabrielle’s face, her expression shifting from mid-laugh to pure terror as she runs over to me.
Then—
There’s nothing.
* * *
“Cam—Cam!”
Someone is gripping my face, shaking me. I blink as my vision swims, and the chandelier above me is blindingly bright when I try to open my eyes.
Gabrielle’s face finally comes into focus. Her fingers press against my cheek, her voice tight with panic. “Baby, talk to me. What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words won’t come.
I don’t know what’s happening.
I feel…wrong. I feel heavy, and dizzy, and like I’m not really here.
I try to push myself up, but my arms buckle, sending me back down to the floor.
“Hey—don’t,” Wes’ voice cuts in, worry clear in his tone. “Stay down, man.”
I feel hands on me—so many hands. Someone’s checking my pulse, pressing a cool hand against my forehead.
“I need to get him to the hospital,” Gabrielle says, voice shaking.
“I’ll drive,” Wes jumps in immediately. “No way we’re waiting for an ambulance.”
“I’m fine,” I manage, but my voice sounds weak, like someone else is speaking for me.
Gabrielle stares at me, wide-eyed, pissed that I would even try to play this off. “Fine? You collapsed, Cam! Your pulse is erratic, your face is pale as hell, and you can barely hold yourself up right now.”
She doesn’t give me time to argue. She’s already pressing her hand under my arm, helping Wes as he pulls me up. The entire ballroom is staring—a sea of rich donors and their spouses with horrified expressions, whispering behind their champagne glasses.
Kinsley moves quickly, clearing the way as Wes and Gabrielle keep me steady, half-dragging me towards the exit.
My body feels wrong. My chest feels wrong. Everything feels wrong.
I hear Gabrielle whisper, “Please don’t do this to me.”
And that’s the moment I finally stop fighting them, knowing this isn’t something I can just shake off.
The drive is a blur, but I hear Gabrielle’s voice the whole way. I just can’t really make out the words anymore. It’s not until we’re inside the ER, the overhead lights giving me a pounding headache, that I start coming back to myself more, even as I’m in pain.
“Dr. Hayes?”
I blink up at the nurse. Confused.
Right. I work here.
I almost laugh at the irony—being on this side of things.
Gabrielle is still gripping my hand, and Wes is pacing all over the waiting room. Kinsley is harassing the nurses about getting me checked out faster when she realizes they’ve just called me back.
Blood work. Scans. EKG. All the things I just did a few weeks ago. Yet, this time, I can’t brush off how serious it feels.
I hear Gabrielle talking to the nurses, asking too many questions, and over-explaining everything. She’s scared, so I squeeze her hand, trying to calm her, even though I feel like my body wants to give.
The doctor finally walks in after what feels like hours, and without her saying anything, I know. The way she looks at me, the hesitation before she speaks. I know. I’ve given that same look too many times to count. I know exactly what it means.
The air in the room shifts, getting cold all of a sudden. I hear Gabrielle exhale sharply beside me, her fingers tightening around mine. She’s trying not to cry before the doctor tells us anything, but I can tell she’s barely able to hold back.
The doctor sighs, flipping through my chart even though she clearly already knows what it says. “Dr. Hayes…we ran your tests.”
My stomach twists, everything inside me bracing for the impact.
“Your blood work was pretty concerning. Things that didn’t show up previously,” she tells me. “Your white blood cell count is dangerously high, your platelets are low, and when we ran further testing…”
She doesn’t have to say it.
I already know.
I don’t think I can stomach hearing it, though.
I can tell Gabrielle knows too, because she literally stops breathing.
The doctor finally meets my eyes. “We need to do a bone marrow biopsy to confirm…but we’re pretty confident that we’re looking at a relapse.”
Silence. Total, deafening silence.
It doesn’t feel real. This is actually happening again. After everything. After my longest remission that I thought would be my last.
I hear Gabrielle suck in a breath like she’s trying not to break down, and I should say something. I should reassure her. But I can’t.
Because my mind is spiraling.
Because no matter how strong I’ve been, no matter how much I’ve convinced myself I’ve become untouchable—
I’m not.
I never was.