Page 111 of What Should Have Been Ours

The night has been perfect.

After I get through the embarrassment of people singing to me, enduring Wes’s terrible speech about me being the “most annoying best friend he’s ever had,” and eating way too much cake, Gabrielle disappears for a second and then comes back with a wrapped box, holding it out to me.

“I have something for you,” she says.

I take the box, eyes flicking up to her. “It’s not lingerie, is it? This could get a little awkward with my parents sitting right over there.”

She laughs, cheeks turning red. “Just open it.”

I tear off the wrapping and lift the lid—and freeze.

Inside is a quilt.

But not just any quilt.

It’s made of hospital gowns, blankets, old clothing, and scraps of fabric—pieces of things that hold every memory of our childhood. The pink blanket I was embarrassingly attached to when I was little, that my mom must have given her. The sleeve from the sweater Gabrielle used to wear every single day in the hospital. The corner of the superhero pillowcase I used to bring to every single chemo session—all pieces of our past, stitched together.

I swallow hard, my throat tightening up.

Gabrielle’s watching me carefully. “I, um… I had to get some stuff from your mom. I tracked down what I could. I just—” She shrugs, her voice soft. “I wanted you to have something that reminds you of how strong you are. Of everything you’ve already survived and how far you’ve come.”

I stare at the quilt, my jaw locking as I try to keep it together. “This is amazing, Gabrielle. I can’t believe you took the time to put something like this all together.”

Wes, of course, chooses this moment to ruin it.

“Oh,” he says, grinning. “Are you gonna cry?”

I snap out of it, glaring at him. “Shut up.”

Wes then reaches over to the table, grabbing something and tossing it onto my lap.

Another box.

I furrow my brows. “What is this?”

Wes just smirks. “Had to top your girls’ present, remind you who loves you more.”

I roll my eyes, opening it—

And then everything stops.

Inside is a donor match confirmation letter.

Wes is a match.

My brain short-circuits as I look up at him. “You…you did this?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I had them run my blood a couple of weeks ago.”

I can’t even process it. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

He sighs. “I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up if I wasn’t a match. But I am. So—” He grins. “Guess you’re gonna be stuck with me forever.”

The room is dead silent, like everyone is trying to wrap their heads around what just happened.

I shake my head. “Wes, you really don’t have to—”

He glares at me. “Cam. You don’t get to argue about this. You’re my best friend. I can’t let you go that easily. I need someone to pick on for at least another fifty years.”