I looked down at my hands, trying to ground myself, trying not to fall apart.
“And more than anything, I just want you to be happy. Truly happy. And right now, I’m not sure if I can give you that. Not the way I am.”
I paused, throat tightening, words catching in the back of it like thorns.
A beat of silence passed. Then I finally whispered, “This therapy isn’t just for me, Cam. I’m doing it for you, too. Because of the guilt I carry, the remorse, and everything I’ve come to see about how I hurt you over the years.”
I took a breath, steadying myself.
“But it also made me realize I need to fix myself first. I have to. And maybe... maybe you do too. Because you did give up, Cam. And I don’t want you to carry that hurt again.”
I looked up at him, eyes glassy. “Before we can be anything again, we need to figure out who we are on our own. Otherwise, we’ll continue to hurt each other. That cycle will come back, and I don’t want that anymore.”
He stared at me, as if trying to catch the full weight of my words.
“Which means...?” he asked quietly.
“Let’s start from the beginning, Cam. Not as a couple, but as friends again. This time, with clearer minds and a promise to keep working on ourselves. We’ll keep growing, healing—separately, but with honesty between us. Until I’m sure I can trust you fully, without her shadow hanging over us. And until you can believe, without doubt, that I won’t hurt you like that again.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sloane
“Hey.”
I turned and saw Gabriel standing behind me.
“It’s been a while,” he said.
“Yeah. Been busy,” I said quietly, my eyes drifting away from him.
Because behind Gabriel, I caught a glimpse of Cameron walking by. He paused when he saw me, offered a small smile, then turned away and continued heading toward the operating room.
I had been keeping a distance from Cameron. Two months had passed since our last conversation.
I just needed space. Room to breathe. A clean break from everything so I could finally let go. Because it was the only way to start over.
Even though it hurt.
Staying away from him hurt. And I had to keep reminding myself that distance, aside from what was necessary for work and for Harper, was the right thing, even if it didn’t feel like it.
I needed to heal.
I needed to find my footing again. To remember who I was before the whirlwind of us knocked me off my feet. Because right now, the memory of him hurting me was still a fresh bruise, tender to the touch. And so was the memory of how I had hurt him.
The space between us was the gap between what I wanted and what I knew was right. And maybe, someday, the ache would fade. Perhaps the memories would soften around the edges, no longer sharp enough to cut.
But I was not there yet.
I couldn’t be with him while the pain still sat heavy in my chest. Our conversation that night lingered in my mind—his honesty, the rawness between us. We had hurt each other deeply, and space was the only thing that made sense. He might not have realized it, or maybe he could not admit it, but we were both carrying the same unspoken question like a splinter in our mouths.
Can I trust you not to break me again?
And that was the hardest part. Love couldn’t erase doubt. It didn’t make us invincible because forgiveness isn’t the same as forgetting.
We carried the memories like stones in our pockets, weighing down every step forward. The love was real, but so was the hurt. And some scars didn’t fade, but they taught us where to be careful.
For now, I had to hold firm, even when every fiber of me ached to return to him. Even when the silence between us screamed louder than all the words we had ever spoken. This wasn’t about assigning blame—I knew my mistakes had left their deep mark on him, too. But if I ever wanted to begin again, whether with him or on my own, I had to quiet the uncertainty still echoing inside me. And he would have to do the same.
