Page 134 of What Should Have Been Ours

A semi-crazy idea pops into my head, and I pull back slightly, grinning up at him.

“What?” Cam asks, immediately suspicious.

“I just thought of something we need to add to our list,” I say. “And since we’re out—we could do it right now…before they close.”

His brows raise. “Do I get to know what it is?”

“Hmm…no.” I shake my head. “It’s a surprise. You just have to agree.”

He laughs. “Honestly, I’d agree to anything you asked for, Gabrielle.”

I grin, taking his hand and tugging him down the street.

* * *

“You’re not serious,” Cam says, staring up at the neon-lit sign.

I nod, looking up at him with my most innocent and sweet expression to convince him to do this with me.

Minutes later, we’re seated side by side in chairs, fingers laced together, the sound of buzzing needles filling the space.

Cam watches the artist work on my hand first, then his.

When it’s over, we both glance down at the small, delicate ink on the sides of our hands. A single, simple string, with a singular loop.

The invisible string that has always tied us to each other.

I look at him, my heart in my throat.

“In this lifetime,” I whisper.

He runs his thumb gently over my knuckles, his voice just as soft as mine when he replies, “And every lifetime after.”

60

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?”