‘Yikes,’ is what he eventually says, and for some reason it makes both of us laugh. He seems like a good guy, Cam. I can see why Florence has been friends with him so long.
‘Yikes is right.’
He shakes his head with another chuckle as he secures the tape over the cotton ball. ‘Well, the good news is that you’re done here now, so no more of the red stuff for a while.’
‘Thanks, man,’ I say, straightening my shirt and standing from the chair, but just as I’m going to leave, he stops me with a hand on my arm.
‘Look,’ he says in a low voice. ‘I know I’m not as pretty as Florence, but if you need help with anything, my door’s always open. It’s kind of crazy, what you’re going through.’
I smile my thanks, and I should leave it at that, but my mouth is three steps ahead of my brain, like usual, and so I blurt out, ‘I think she’s avoiding me.’
Cam rocks back on his heels, studying me through his wire-framed glasses. ‘Oh yeah?’
I mean, I’ve already overshared, I may as well commit to it. Plus, Cam’s a doctor and they have the whole confidentiality thing, don’t they?
‘We kissed a few days ago and she hasn’t spoken to me since.’
He watches me for a moment, his brows tugging together in thought, before his face relaxes into an almost-smile and he nods. ‘Ok,’ he says eventually.
I’m confused. ‘Ok?’
‘Quinn,’ he says, his expression softening, ‘I don’t know if you know this about her yet, but Florence is not someone who loves easily. As far as I know, she’s only done it once, and that was a century and a half ago.’
‘Josiah?’ I ask, remembering our first interaction and the way Florence came at me.
Cam stops, assessing me carefully from behind those wire-framed glasses. ‘She told you about him?’
He sounds shocked, or maybe something softer than that. Surprised, perhaps.
‘Not really,’ I reply, because she didn’t. Not beyond that one simple fact, anyway. ‘Just that they were engaged and he was killed.’
Cam nods soberly. ‘A few weeks before they were due to get married.’ He scrubs a hand over his stubble, his expression tightening. ‘She was completely in love with him, and when he died, it tore her apart.’ His eyes flick back up to mine. ‘When we lost him, I honestly thought we’d lose her too.’
His voice thins on the last few words and he looks away from me quickly, blinking a few times before his eyes meet mine again. ‘The strangest part is that you look just like him.’
I knew this, of course, but it feels different in the context of whatever Florence and I are now. It was just the strange coincidence that brought us together at first, but now a much darker thought crosses my mind.
Does she only want me because I look like him?
I don’t want to think that about her. God knows she’s given me no reason at all not to trust her, but now the thought has implanted itself into my brain I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to get it out.
I try to say something but the only thing that comes out is anohsound, which Cam seems to take as a question.
‘Yeah,’ he replies sadly. ‘Anyway, I’m just saying… And it’s hard on her being back here too, with it being the place where she lost him.’ His shrug feels laboured, like he’d take on some of that pain for her if he could. I know how he feels. ‘But she likes you, I can tell. She probably just needs time.’
Time. Just time.
You know, that thing I don’t have a lot of.
I blow out a breath, more conscious than ever of this whole vampire business hanging over my head, of the constant, vague threat of the unknown that lurks just outside of my grasp.
‘What if I don’t have time?’ I ask, as a cold shiver races its way across my skin. When Cam smiles this time, it’s almost solemn– a world away from his usual chipper grin.
‘I wish I could answer that for you,’ he says, one hand brushing his hair back from his face. ‘I wish I could tell you that these things always have a way of working themselves out. But I’ve worked in healthcare for a long, long time and the honest answer is that in this life there are winners and there are losers and all you can realistically do is enjoy your time while it lasts and hope like hell you’re one of the lucky ones.’
My heart thumps out one of its extra beats and I rub my chest with the heel of my hand to ease it. I don’t like leaving things to chance. All the good things I have in my life now are there because I’ve worked my arse off for them.
Fate, historically, has not been on my side. So hoping for the best, in my book, generally means bracing for the worst. But I like Cam, and I appreciate his candour, so I smile and hold out my hand.