Page 95 of What Should Have Been Ours

“Extremely debatable,” I add, smirking.

Wes throws his hands up. “I don’t like how I’m being treated here.”

Gabrielle rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, and for a moment, everything feels normal for a change. Like we’re not sitting in a hospital room. Like I’m not sick. Like I haven’t spent the last two months watching my body betray me all over again.

I want to hold onto this moment.

Gabrielle glances at the clock, sighing. “Alright, I should walk Kinsley out.”

She looks reluctant to leave, so I squeeze her hand under the table, silently telling her it’s okay.

“I’ll be back,” she tells me.

“I’ll be here,” I say, keeping my tone light, even though we both know I don’t actually have any other option.

Kinsley stands, stretching out a little. “Come on, let’s go before Wes gets desperate and starts robbing the bank.”

Wes gasps. “Wow. That’s crazy. I would never—”

Gabrielle gives him a look.

“…be dumb enough to get caught,” Wes corrects.

I shake my head, laughing, as the girls leave the room.

Once the door swings shut, Wes turns to me, his smirk fading. “So…how are you feeling?”

I exhale, leaning my head back against the pillow. “I’m tired.”

Wes studies me, his usual easygoing demeanor dimming slightly. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

I don’t answer right away. I don’t have to. He already knows. I try not to talk about my treatment or progress much, but I know he can tell.

“It’s just…” I sigh, rubbing my fingers over my jaw. “This time feels different. It’s hitting harder. The cancer’s more aggressive. And I’m so…damn…tired, Wes.”

He nods slowly, his expression starting to look more worried, even though he’s trying to hide it. “Yeah, well, you’re fighting harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. You’re allowed to be tired. But you’re not allowed to give up.”

I look up at him. “I want to fight. I am fighting. But it’s scary, man.”

Wes swallows, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know.”

And he does. Maybe not in the same way Gabrielle does, but he’s seen the worst parts of this disease up close, too—he’s seen the losses, the miracles, the ones who barely made it out—the ones who didn’t.

He gives me a soft smile. “You’re gonna beat this, Cam. If anyone can, it’s you. After everything you’ve been through and everything you’ve given back to so many others, this isn’t how the story ends. It can’t be.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I try to clear it. “You’re getting a little too sentimental, man. Don’t go getting soft on me.”

Wes scoffs, leaning back in his chair. “Shut up. I’m allowed to have emotions. Don’t make this weird.”

I smirk. “You’ve already made it weird.”

He flips me off.

“Speaking of emotions…you wanna tell me what’s going on with you and Kinsley?”

Wes makes a face. “What? Nothing.”

I arch a brow. “Really?”