60. Cameron
Cameron
The high is starting to wear off.
I’ve been pushing through, trying to pretend like everything still feels as good as it did a few weeks ago.
I don’t want Gabrielle to notice, I don’t want her to see me struggling this much yet. She deserves more time—more good time. So I’ve been ignoring the fatigue creeping in, the way my legs feel heavier when I walk, the way my body aches in places it didn’t before.
I can still fake it. For now, at least. For her.
Gabrielle had to work this morning, something that makes me feel both relieved and guilty.
She barely leaves my side, and even though I love having her with me every second, I need her to have something else too.
Something that isn’t just this. As selfish as I want to be with her, I’m afraid it will only make it harder when I’m gone.
Wes had the day off, so he came over, acting like I didn’t need a babysitter, but we both know that’s exactly why he’s here.
He’s currently leaning against my kitchen counter, sipping his coffee, watching me closely. “Damn, you look good, man. Almost like you’re not dying.”
I smirk, shaking my head. “That’s the goal.”
But I don’t crack a joke like I normally would, don’t say anything else really, and Wes notices immediately.
His expression shifts, his usual cocky smirk softening into something more serious. “Alright, what’s up with you?”
I glance away, gripping the edge of the counter, flexing my fingers. “Don’t know what you mean?”
“You’re too quiet.” He sets his mug down, crossing his arms. “And not in the brooding heroic kind of way, more like the ticking time bomb kind of way.”
I exhale slowly, pressing my lips together. I should lie. Say I’m just tired. Say it’s nothing. But I’m honestly tired of carrying it alone.
“I can feel it coming, Wes,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper.
Wes straightens, his arms dropping to his sides. “What do you mean?”
“It’s happening faster than I thought. I thought I’d have more time than this.” I shake my head, forcing myself to look at him. “But I can feel it. I can feel my body is starting to give in, and I don’t know how much longer I have before I can’t hide it anymore.”
His face falls, the reality of what I’m saying hitting him. “Cam…”
“I don’t want her to see it yet,” I say, my voice cracking. “She’s been so happy. I just—I want to keep her happy for a little longer before it fully falls apart.”
Wes rubs a hand over his jaw. “You don’t have to protect her from this. She wouldn’t want you to, and to be honest with you, she probably already knows. She always knows.”
I nod, because yeah, she probably does. Gabrielle’s always been too in-tuned not to see right through me. But I’m still hoping she hasn’t yet.
I look down at the floor. “You know…I’m not afraid of dying, Wes.”
He stays silent, waiting for me to finish.
I swallow hard, my hands clenching on the counter’s edge.
“I am afraid for her after I’m gone. I don’t know how she’s going to be, man.
And if I could do anything—anything—to keep from leaving her, I would.
But I can’t.” My voice breaks, and I hate it, hate how weak I sound.
“It’s killing me more than the damn cancer ever could. ”
Wes exhales sharply, blinking fast, trying to keep his own emotions at bay. “Cam…”
I lift my eyes to his desperately. “I need you to promise me something.”
He nods instantly. “Anything.”
“Take care of her.” My voice is raw and aching at the thought. “Don’t let her drown in this, Wes. You and Kinsley…just…be there for her, please. Make sure she has something to hold on to still.”
Wes stares at me for a long moment, his jaw clenching before he steps forward, gripping the back of my neck and pulling me into a hug.
It’s the kind of hug that’s tight and unrelenting—the kind that says all the things neither of us can to each other.
I close my eyes, gripping the back of his shirt, feeling the weight of everything that’s happening.
After a moment, Wes pulls back, clearing his throat and rubbing his hands over his face. “I love you, man.”
I huff out a laugh, wiping my eyes. “Only took me dying to get some real emotions out of you.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re an asshole.”
I smirk. “Yeah, but I’m your favorite asshole.”
Wes exhales, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to hold back his emotions. “Yeah, you really are.”