33. Gabrielle
Gabrielle
I swore I never wanted to be back in a hospital like this.
This is no longer about my feelings for this place, though. It’s about Cam; being here for him is all I want to do right now. I’ve taken the next week off just to be with Cam and get him settled in and as comfortable as possible.
It’s been days—days of waiting, of hoping, of trying to convince myself that maybe this time, the universe wouldn’t be so cruel; that some mistake was made. But today, the waiting ends. Reality is one test result away. And I’m not ready.
I’m not ready for the last hope of a miracle to be ripped away.
The doctor is standing at the foot of Cam’s bed with a clipboard in hand and an expression that makes my stomach twist with anticipation. She doesn’t want to have to say it. They never do.
And then she confirms it.
It’s back. Actually back. For real back, no more denying it back. No more hoping for a different outcome.
Relapsed Acute Myeloid Leukemia.
The words land like a punch to the gut, making it hard to catch my breath. I knew it was coming. Obviously, deep down, we all did. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. There was a little part of us all that held out hope for the results to come back differently.
I feel my pulse pounding, but I keep my face neutral, forcing myself to hold it together. Cam doesn’t need my fear right now. He needs my strength.
His fingers tighten around mine as he processes the news. His jaw clenches, his eyes flicker toward the ceiling, and for a moment, he just breathes. Then he nods, just once, like he’s making peace with something nobody should have to make peace with.
“What’s the plan?” he asks, his voice calm but laced with exhaustion.
The doctor runs through the treatment protocol—aggressive chemotherapy, hospital monitoring, and possibly a bone marrow transplant if the first line of options fail and they can find a match.
He talks about remission rates, survival percentages, and side effects.
Words I’ve heard before, words that are too clinical to ever capture the sheer weight of what they mean.
Cam listens, not saying anything, nodding at the right moments, absorbing it all. But I see it—the way his fingers twitch against the blanket, the way his throat bobs as he swallows hard.
He’s scared.
And so am I.
How many times can you play with these odds and them continue to be in your favor?
When the doctor finally leaves. The silence stretches between us.
It all feels so suffocating. Wes and Kinsley are in the room too, sitting on the couch by the window.
Wes hasn’t said a word since the doctor walked in, and Kinsley has her arms wrapped around her legs, her usual sharp remarks nowhere to be found.
None of us knows what to say. You can’t make this better, so why even try?
Cam is the one who finally breaks the silence. His voice is quiet, and a little hesitant. “You don’t have to do this, Gab.”
“What?” I ask, blinking at him in confusion.
He turns his head toward me. “You don’t have to go through this again. You’ve already spent a lifetime in hospitals on your own. I know this is hard on you. You don’t have to stay…like…with me. Through this.”
My heart squeezes painfully. How can he even say that?
I shake my head, gripping his hand tighter. “Don’t be an idiot, Cam.”
“I’m serious.” He exhales sharply, turning to stare up at the ceiling. “I know what this is going to do to me. I know how bad it’s going to get. You know how bad it’s going to get. I don’t want you putting your whole life on hold.”
Anger flashes through me, annoyed he would ever think he’s a bother on my life. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re acting like I have a choice, like walking away is something I’d even be able to do.”
He closes his eyes. “Gab—”
“No.” I cut him off. “You don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.
Not with this.” I take a shaky breath, fighting back the tears that are dangerously close to spilling over.
“You were there for me every single second when I was sick. Even at your weakest, you showed up for me. You never left my side. And now, you expect me to just…walk away? Like I could ever do that.”
His eyes open again, the expression on his face raw and pained. “I don’t want you to hurt because of me.”
“I’m already hurting,” I whisper. “And that wouldn’t stop if I walked out of those doors. So let me be here.”
His lips part like he wants to argue, but no words come out.
“Stop,” I plead softly. “Just stop trying to protect me. Let me do this with you. Please.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Then, after a long, painful pause, he nods. “Okay.”
I let out a shaky breath, relief and fear warring inside of me.
Wes finally speaks from across the room, his voice coming out rough. “I hate all of this. But if there’s anyone else who’s as stubborn as you, Cam, it’s Gabrielle. I wouldn’t fight with that one.”
Kinsley lets out a small, watery laugh, rubbing her hand down Wes’s arm. “Yeah. You don’t really stand a chance there.”
Cam huffs a quiet laugh, but the smile doesn’t reach far. The room falls silent again. But this time, it’s a little lighter. Less suffocating. Maybe it’s just knowing we have each other that’s making it more bearable.
Eventually, Wes and Kinsley head out to grab coffee, leaving just me and Cam by ourselves.
The second the door closes behind them, I move, climbing up onto the hospital bed beside him, pressing my body close, curling into his chest. He stiffens for half a second before relaxing into me, his arms instinctively wrapping around my back.
“You’re not supposed to be in the bed,” he murmurs against my hair.
“Let them try to kick me out,” I mumble back.
His chest rumbles with a quiet laugh, then he exhales. “I don’t deserve you.”
My throat tightens up at his words. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze. “And I’m serious when I say that if you try to push me away again, I’m going to hurt you.”
A slow, tired smirk tugs at his lips. “The love of my life, threatening me into submission.”
The love of my life.
I tuck the words deep into my heart, hiding them away like a secret love note.
Cam sighs, his hold on me tightening. “I don’t know what’s going to happen this time.”
“Neither do I.”
“But I know one thing,” he continues, voice softening, “if I have to go through this again, I’m at least relieved I have you by my side again. I might try to push you away for your own good, but selfishly, I would never want you to leave.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I push them away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
We lay there like that, holding onto each other and soaking in this moment of calm before the storm.