Page 156 of Close Knit

“I know that now. But after what happened with Rossi, Charlie, heck, even women I dated, I just kept avoiding it, hoping it would disappear.” He winces, looking at the waves. “After the livestream scandal, a woman I was seeing went public, claiming to be my suffering girlfriend. She plastered private photos of me online and even announced she was going onLust Islandbecause I was too broken for her. The media ate it up.”

I furrow my brows, trying to piece together what Jung had mentioned all those months ago about Mal Kelly being Cameron’s ex. It must be her he’s talking about.

“That’s really terrible,” I murmur, my heart aching for him.

“I felt like everyone had their lives together except me. But now I finally feel in control again. I know walking out on you was wrong, but I’ve been working on myself, going to therapy. I started the foundation. You inspired that.”

Cameron Hastings, the guy who used to hide his feelings behind a tough exterior and monosyllabic grunts, is actually opening up.

“I saw the press conference.”

“I was hoping you would.”

I pause, a small smile quaking at the corner of my lips. “Your stockinette has definitely improved.”

His golden eyes dance with laughter. “Sven is not as patient of a teacher as you.”

“You boys did all right.” I fumble with the bag on my shoulder. There’s so much I want to ask, so much I want to say, but my mind is a whirlwind. “So, you’re in therapy?”

“For over a month now. Apparently, I’ve been showing clear signs of C-PTSD, and it’s not all that rare for men to deal with,” he says, frowning. The thought of him enduring this alone twists my heart. “The team and I have been reaching out to players who might be struggling with their mental health, offering support. I didn’t realize how many of us were silently suffering and how normalized it had become.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would do. It’s the right thing.” He pauses, searching my face. “Daphne, I love you. I’ve never loved anything as much as I love you. Not even the game. You should’ve heard that from me sooner. I never should’ve asked you to lay low, suggested you step back from your platforms when that first rumor about us broke. I never should’ve tried to dim your light just because I was living in the shadows.”

Tears spill from my eyes, and I can’t hold them in. So much of him is still the same—the crease in his brow, the scruff on his face, that messily styled hair. But it feels like I’m meeting a part of him I never knew existed.

“Cameron, I never wanted to spend my time chipping away at your walls, only for them to spring back up again.”

He inches closer to me. The sky envelops him in a vibrant cocoon, painting him in the hues of a setting sun.

“You’re right,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the gentle crash of the waves. “The real apology I owe you is for leaving without an explanation. I couldn’t admit any of this to myself. I was too afraid, too ashamed, too embarrassed to say the words out loud, to admit that I was hurt. I had no right to avoid discussing it with you. I shouldn’t have ended our last conversation the way I did.”

Tears fall from my eyes. These past two months, I’ve thrown myself into being the best version of me. But his absence has been like a bad song stuck on repeat. The ache of what we could have been has lingered. Despite it all, I still dreamed of a life together, even when he needed to prioritize himself.

I still want us to have a chance. Could we?

“It really hurt when you walked out on me, on us,” I say, my voice steady but soft. “I understand why you had to do it. Trust me, of all people, I get it. I know how hard trauma and pain can be, and I’m genuinely glad you’re finding your way back. But you didn’t let me choose whether or not I deserved you. You didn’t give me the chance to understand. In a relationship, two people get to make that choice, and I didn’t need you to protect me from yourself.”

“I was foolish to try and protect you.”

My heart twists. “I thought we could get through anything, and these past two months without you…well, they’ve been dreadful, Cameron. I love my life in London. I love my friends. I love…I love you. And if we’re going to try again, I need to know we can face things together and that you won’t leave me when you’re scared.”

“I never want to leave you again.”

His words strike a chord deep within me. Despite everything, I can’t deny the love that still lingers, the hope that we can make it work.

The salty breeze tugs at my hair, and my heart races—not just for Cameron, but for the hidden burdens he’s been carrying. Change is hard, but if my Yes Year has shown me anything, it’s that the ache of disappointment is a small price for the growth it brings, even when it hurts. I want to be with Cameron, and that’s the choice I’m making.

“Do you mean that?” I ask, my voice wobbling like a poorly balanced Jenga tower, a cocktail of hope and fear swirling inmy chest. If his changes are real, maybe, just maybe, we have a chance.

“I do,” he says, flashing me a smile that’s all sincerity. “I’ll do a thousand push-ups to prove it, and I’ll untangle a million balls of yarn if it means you’ll forgive me.” He chuckles, and it’s this warm, genuine sound that makes my heart do an embarrassing little flip inside my chest. “I’ll show you every day, Daphne, that I’m on the right path now. No more bottling up my emotions. I feel like I can finally be the man I want to be.”

“You’re just saying that because you like it when I force you to do push-ups and untangle my yarn,” I tease, feeling a tiny bubble of joy pop inside me.

“Loveit. Almost as much as I love you,” he says, his eyes soft and sincere.

“I love you too,” I whisper, tears of relief pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I just need your word, because you’ve always had mine.”

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