45. Daphne

Chapter 45

Daphne

May 1

Lyndhurst FC’s Birds of a Feather Foundation Raises a Groundbreaking ￡2.5 Million One Week After Inception

May 3

More FC Players Speak Out About Mental Health

May 5

Cameron Hastings Files Charges Against Charlie Lewis, Leading to Shocking Suspension Right Before Lyndhurst and Overton Final!

May 11

Daphne Quinn Hosts Second Knitting Retreat in San Francisco, Donating Half the Revenue to The Kindness Coalition

At the end of the pier, a man sits alone on my green bench. His back is to me, but there’s something achingly familiar about the way his shoulders hunch and the lazy waves in his hair. The setting sun splashes the sky with pinks and purples, casting a golden glow around him. The sound of waves crashing and seals barking does nothing to calm the milkshake of excitement and fear bubbling inside me.

Be big . You’ve got this.

The boardwalk planks groan under my hesitant steps, each creak matching my jittery nerves. Kids’ laughter fizzes like soda, and tourists snap photos. None of that matters—my world has zoomed in on just him. Cameron must sense me; he turns, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a delicious shiver down my spine. Then he’s up, and suddenly it’s like the universe is holding its breath.

He’s wearing the red sweater I knitted for him, paired with his usual dark jeans and sneakers. His small, adorable smile is infuriatingly disarming, especially considering the serious conversation we need to have. There’s an undeniable confidence in his stride as he walks toward me.

Something’s different, but I can’t put my finger on what.

Suddenly, my tongue feels like it’s been replaced with a sandbag, and my throat tightens. All the words I carefully rehearsed over the past nineteen days vanish into thin air.

He stops just inches away. He opens his mouth, hesitates, and then says, “I love you.”

“Oh.” Of all the things he could have said, I never expected those three words. My eyes blink rapidly, my brain scrambling to process his declaration.

“Sorry, that’s not how I planned to do that.”

“Cameron—”

Another step forward, and I can barely catch my breath. “I put so much pressure on myself this season. I wanted to win so badly, both for me and to prove to everyone I wasn’t broken. But as the season went on, I realized the only time I was happy, the only time I could forget about everything holding me back, was when I was with you. Even being in the box didn’t bring me the joy it used to. So when I wasn’t with you, it felt like I was drowning and—” His eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with a sincerity that makes my heart do a little dance. “I didn’t want you to be my life raft, Daphne. I didn’t want to need saving.”

“I don’t think you need saving.”

“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 on Lust Island because 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 in my 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.

“ Love it. 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.”

“You have it. You have me. Always,” he says, his voice ringing with conviction.

We kiss, and it’s like a thousand tiny fireworks explode in the most delightful way. The Santa Cruz Boardwalk hums around us, the laughter from the roller coasters and the salty ocean air blending into a perfect symphony.

My trusty green bench, the one that’s been a silent witness to all my dramatic monologues and tear-filled moments, now gets to see this burst of happiness.

His lips are soft and warm, moving with a tenderness that makes my heart do an actual gymnastics routine. I feel the promise of new beginnings and the comforting realization that maybe we’re finally on the right path.

“I want to go back home,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.

“I want that too,” he replies, his gaze steady and full of affection.

“I can’t yet, though. There’s stuff going on here that I need to wrap up,” I say, a twinge of regret in my voice. “And Lust Island is flying me out for the premiere next week. But I can come to your final game,” I explain, feeling this weird mix of excitement and responsibility. “We can press play on us then.”

“I’d love that,” he says, his eyes sparkling with appreciation. He takes my hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Daphne Quinn. For everything.”

His apology, sincere and heartfelt, dissolves the last of my defenses. I pull him close, feeling our hearts sync up like a perfectly choreographed dance number. “You’ve really leveled up your apology game.” I giggle.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” he asks.

“I do,” I say, unable to hide my smile.

“Then there’s one last thing I need to do.” He grabs my hand, and I can feel my cheeks heating up. “Duck, will you be my girlfriend?”

“For real?”

“For real.”

“Well, in that case, of course, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

I kiss him hard. I kiss him like I’m trying to make up for every second we spent apart, every second we weren’t together. The warmth in my chest fills me with joy and hope, like I’ve just discovered the meaning of life in a really soft cardigan.

“Now, how about we ride a roller coaster?” he asks, grinning like he’s just invented fun.

“What?” I laugh, shaking my head. “Who are you, and what have you done with Cameron?”

“I mean it! Let’s go have some fun. It’s what we do best, remember?” he says. “Say yes.”

“All right, but if I scream, you owe me ice cream,” I declare, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. “And if we’re giving this a shot, then everything is one giant yes, okay? One giant Yes Life.”

“A Yes Life. Deal.”

“Deal. Now let’s go find the craziest roller coaster out there.” And with that, we’re off, laughing like kids who just discovered their parents’ candy stash.

Maybe second chances are just chances, and maybe we all take steps forward and back, but we can’t be big all the time. If Cameron’s learning that it’s okay to be small, then I can rely on him to be any size with me, and I can be any size with him.