I frowned, narrowing my eyes just a little. “You keep insisting on this.”
He paused for a moment before speaking.
“Because I know what it feels like to keep everything bottled up, thinking you’re doing everything right, only to realize in the end that you were wrong. Sometimes we just need someone else—someone with a clearer perspective, not clouded by emotion.”
“Did something happen to you?” I asked curiously.
“Yeah,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I lost my wife because of it.” His gaze wandered, distant and full of things unsaid. “And even now, I find myself wishing there’d been someone I could talk to, someone who might’ve helped me find my way back before it was too late.”
I wanted to ask what happened with him and his wife, but the way he said it told me he didn’t want to go any further. So I stayed quiet.
Then he added, “And the way Cameron’s quietly hurting now, the little things he does to show up for you, the way his eyes follow you with that longing... that used to be me. But by the time I realized it, it was already beyond saving.” He smiled softly at me. “I’d catch him in the locker room sometimes, just staring at the wall with this hollow look. Completely wrecked. Yeah... I recognize regret when I see it.”
He looked at me and smiled, just slightly, like he knew more than he was saying. And I remembered how he accidentally overheard my conversation with Lina. He knew about my situation with Cameron.
A thought suddenly struck me. “Why are you talking to me about this instead of him?”
He turned to face me.
“Because you’re my friend first,” he said. “And he doesn’t need me. He’s already handling it better than I ever did.” When he caught the question in my eyes, he added softly, “He’s setting you free, isn’t he? That’s love, if you ask me. Sacrificing your own heart for their peace.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, as if trying to ease a memory that still stung.
“So I’m here. If you ever need someone. As a friend. And if you ever want to know what it feels like from the other side, youcan ask. It’s not the same as what you’ve been through, but the remorse, the regret, and trying to fix what you broke—it might be close enough. And who knows? Maybe I can help.”
He walked backward, away from me. “It’s your call.” Then he picked up his pace. “Gotta go. Surgery in a few minutes. See you, Sloane.”
Iheard the sound of the car pulling in and knew it was Cameron, dropping Harper off. I hurried to the door and opened it just as he stepped in, carrying our sleeping daughter in his arms.
“It was a big day for her,” he said with a soft chuckle. “There was an outdoor event with games and all at school. She got really into it and wore herself out.”
“She told me this morning. She’d been looking forward to it all week,” I said.
“Can you help me with her bed?”
“Of course.”
I followed him upstairs to Harper’s room. I slipped off her shoes and pulled the blanket back while Cameron gently laid her down. He paused for a moment, smiling at her, then leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“Love you, baby girl,” he whispered.
When he turned to me, the look in his eyes stopped me for a second—that same expression I saw every day. Quiet desperation. And a flicker of hope that was already beginning to fade.
“I’m gonna go now,” he said softly. “Good night, Sloane.”
I watched him leave the room, staying where I was for a moment before quietly following him down the stairs. I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t have anything planned to say. I just knew I had to stop him.
“Cam.”
He was already off the stairs. He turned around and waited for me to catch up. I paused.
“Are you going back to Anita’s?”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes searching my face, slightly puzzled by the question. “Like I do every day.”
“You’re not going out? With Dean and Ben, maybe?” I paused for a moment before adding, “I asked because tomorrow is our day off.”
And also because I went out with Lina and her friends twice this week, just trying to get used to being around people again. And the whole time, I kept wondering if he was doing the same. Going out, having fun, maybe even just living his life without me.
