Page 85 of What Should Have Been Ours

He didn’t believe me, just like he never believed he’d make it out of that hospital. But he did. We both did. We survived, we fought through it, we won, and that was supposed to be it.

But now—now we’re here. Again.

Is he strong enough to fight this again?

I blink back to the present, my nails digging into Cam’s skin as I force myself to release my grip. I have to focus on now, to stay here with him, to hold him together the way I did before; the way he always did for me.

Across the room, Wes paces restlessly. His hands keep running over his thick, short curls, his jaw tight with tension, eyes dark with what looks like pure pain.

None of us have spoken since the doctor gave us the news, and I really don’t know if any of us can.

The room is too quiet. It’s too heavy, and I hate it.

Finally, Wes stops pacing, exhaling sharply. “Okay, so—what the hell do we do now?” His voice is rough, edged with panic, and it snaps something inside me.

The fact that he’s turned off his doctor mode tells me what state he’s in.

The doctor clears her throat, shifting awkwardly before looking back at Cam. “The next step is a bone marrow biopsy to confirm everything. From there, we’ll determine the treatment plan—chemo, and potentially a transplant depending on the results.”

I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until my chest feels like it’s on fire, and my vision darkens slightly as I try to keep hold of reality.

Chemo.

A transplant.

Hospital stays.

Another fight.

It’s all I hear in my mind on repeat.

I can’t—I can’t watch him go through that again.

Cam is still silent, staring at the ceiling like he’s not really even here.

“Hey,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.

Nothing.

The silence makes my stomach twist.

“Cam,” I try again, my voice barely above a whisper.

Finally, he blinks, his eyes shifting over to mine slowly. His hazel eyes are normally so beautiful and pure, and bright. But right now, all I see is distance in them, like he’s looking at me, but not really seeing me.

It shatters me, breaking my heart.

“I don’t want you having to stay here all night,” he murmurs. His voice is calm—too calm. It’s almost…detached. “You should go home and get some rest, Gab.”

Is he serious?

I shake my head immediately. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Gabrielle, you know how long this gets—”

“No,” I snap, gripping his hand tightly again, like it can get him to really hear me, like I can snap him back to reality here with me instead of the spiral I can see his mind starting to slip into. “Don’t try to pull that crap already.”

His expression cracks for the first time, just slightly, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. I feel his fingers twitch in mine before he finally speaks, voice lower, rougher. “I was done with all of this,” he mutters. “I was done.”