“Yeah.” He gave me a small, understanding smile. “Want to come by tonight? I can drive you.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “I’ll come with you.”
“I’ve got to run,” he said, already turning away—always in a hurry. “I’ll find you here tonight.”
“Yeah, see you then.”
After that, I was swamped with patients again. Later, I had to head down to the administrative office to assist a patient who’d requested a consultation about costs, but none of the staff had arrived yet. They were often overwhelmed and understaffed, so I sometimes had to track them down myself.
I took the stairs down one floor and jogged toward the office, knowing I only had a few minutes to spare. Passing through the lobby, I had to weave between a crowd of patients, their families, doctors, nurses, and hospital staff. I slipped into a small gap in the throng but accidentally bumped into a woman, who shot me a fierce glare. I mumbled an apology and kept moving.
Then the crowd parted.
And what I saw in front of me stopped my heart for a beat.
It was Cameron.
A woman stood close to him, arms linked around his waist as she looked up at him.
I knew without a doubt it was Evie Moore.
Chapter Nine
Cameron
Isat alone in my apartment, slouched on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of peppermint oil in the other. I flipped the bottle between my fingers, watching it spin slowly.
Just a small bottle of oil.
Unremarkable, yet it carried the weight of a thousand memories.
The kind that didn’t shout but lingered quietly.
Desperation.
It took hold of my heart and clouded my judgment.
I made a choice in the grip of it when, one day, out of nowhere, a glimpse of happiness appeared. And so, I reached for it, both hands open, telling myself chances like that didn’t come twice.
But I realized too late that nothing good ever came from a decision made in desperation.
It only bred poison, seeping everywhere and causing pain for everyone involved.
Because my desperation caused me to overlook what truly mattered.
And I forgot.
Somewhere along the line, I stopped seeing it.
Stopped seeing her.
The way she uniquely showed her love.
How she kissed the corner of my eye, my cheek, my jaw, my lips whenever I said I loved her, as if she were whispering her love softly into my skin.
How her fingertips sought mine in silence, needing a touch only I could give to quiet the noise inside her mind.
How she kept a bottle of peppermint oil close at hand, ready for the moments when my headache struck.
