Page 94 of What Should Have Been Ours

He grins, but I see the exhaustion behind it, the way his body is already demanding rest so often.

I get up and smooth his blanket over him, brushing my fingers along his cheek. “Sleep, Cam.”

He sighs, closing his eyes as he leans into my touch. “Stay?”

“Always.”

He drifts off, his breathing evening out while his fingers are still curled around mine.

Even if the moments of lightness are fleeting, I’ll hold onto them as tightly as I can.

36

Cameron

I really thought I’d be out of here by now.

I thought after the first round of chemo, after the blood tests and transfusions, after getting my immune system strong enough to function without crashing, they’d let me go home for a while. At least give me a second to pretend that my life hasn’t completely crumbled under the weight of this disease again.

But that hasn’t been the case.

The chemo is helping, but not as much as they’d like. The numbers aren’t bouncing back the way they hoped. The cancer is more aggressive this time—more stubborn, more vicious.

After all this time has gone by, now it wants to come back and be crueler than ever. And as much as I want to stay positive, it’s getting hard. Because I know how this disease works. I know the good cases, the ones where remission sticks and people go on to live full, healthy lives. I also know the other side. I know how fast it can all turn. How many times I’ve had to sit across from parents and kids who look at me with hope in their eyes, asking if they’re going to make it, and I can’t give them an answer.

I try to push those thoughts aside as best as I can, but they linger, clawing at the back of my mind.

I know too much about this disease, and it’s making it all a lot scarier.

* * *

Gabrielle, Wes, and Kinsley are all huddled around my hospital bed, completely immersed in a game of Monopoly.

“I swear, if you put another hotel on Boardwalk, I’m breaking up with you,” Gabrielle warns, narrowing her eyes at me.

I smirk, lazily shaking the dice in my hand. “I thought you liked a man who’s financially responsible?”

“Financially responsible, yes. A money-hoarding tyrant, no.”

Wes snorts from across the table. “Tell us how you really feel.”

“I will,” she says, shooting him a pointed look. “After I get out of jail for the third time this game, which, by the way, is starting to feel like a personal attack.”

“You just have bad luck,” I tease.

Kinsley grins, nudging Wes. “Remind me never to play another board game with these two. The tension is insane.”

“Please,” Wes says. “I live for this. I’m thriving and thoroughly entertained.”

“You’re losing,” I point out.

Wes glares at me. “Okay, Dr. Browne, don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m making my comeback.”

“Tell that to your empty bank account. And Dr.Browne? The woman with cancer in The Good Doctor? Really? You’re getting worse at these comparisons.” I mutter under my breath, organizing my bills.

“A doctor with cancer,” he waves. “The rest is details. And you listen here,” Wes says, dramatically leaning forward, “I might be financially struggling right now, but at least I still have my dignity.”

Kinsley hums. “Debatable.”