Page 154 of Hawaii Can Suck It

She glances down at our joined hands, then back up at me. “Iwasgoing to ask you to promote my channel,“ she admits. “That part was true. But all that other stuff, Astrid twisted…”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” She shakes her head. “I’m not cut out for this. The scrutiny. The comments. The way people picked me apart—it’s like being thrown into a woodchipper.”

My chest constricts painfully, and not from the probable broken ribs. “Cam—”

“I was so naive,” she continues. “I thought I could just make my documentaries, and that would be it. But now I get it—there’s no separating the content from the creator. I’d be signing up for all of it. The hate, the obsession, the constant judgment.”

A single tear trails down her cheek, and I softly wipe it away with my thumb. My hand cradles her face, and for a half second, she leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

That’s when I notice she’s wearing my shirt. The ridiculous rhino one with the animals getting frisky. Memories flood in of that night in the tent when I couldn’t hold back my feelings any longer.

It’s a sign.

I’m an idiot.Two years—two freaking years—with this insanely brilliant, talented woman right in front of me. A heart the size of the fucking Pacific, and what did I do? Pushed her away because I was too scared to admit how much I wanted her.

No more.

Her lips part slightly, her breath catching.

“I love you, Camila Morales. Not for what you can do for me or my channel or my fucking brand. I love you because you call me on my crap, you see through my walls, and you make the most obscene noises when I go down on you.”

“Reece—”

“I love the way you mutter in Spanish when you’re pissed. I love knowing when you wear those cargo pants, you mean business. I love that you care more about telling stories that matter than getting famous for it.”

Another tear escapes, but this time she doesn’t try to hide it.

“I understand you’re terrified of the influencer life,” I continue. “But you don’t have to do any of it. Not the comments, not the meet-and-greets, not the merch, not the fucking TikTok dances. You can make your documentaries, and I’ll build a fortress around you so thick that not even the thirstiest internet trolls can get through.”

“You can’t protect me from the whole world.”

“Watch me try.” The intensity in my voice surprises us both.

The ambulance pulls up alongside us, red and blue lights painting Cam’s face in alternating colors, like she’s caught between two worlds.

“How do I know you won’t run again?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper. “The next time you get scared or somebody makes you doubt me—why should I believe you won’t shut me out?”

I take her hand and place it over my heart, letting her feel the wild, erratic beat that’s all for her.

“Because for the first time in my life, I didn’t run away from something—I rantosomeone. I flew across an ocean, jumped onto a moving vehicle, and turned myself into a human toboggan in order to reach you.” I gesture at the chaos around us, the flashing lights, the stopped traffic, the gathering crowd. “This isn’t a stunt, Cam. This is me, terrified but showing up anyway. Because losing you would hurt worse than every fall, crash, and burn I’ve ever taken on camera combined.”

EMTs push through the crowd, medical bags in hand, expressions caught between concern and confusion as they take in the scene.

“Sir, we need to check you out,” a man says, kneeling beside me. “Possible concussion, lacerations—”

“One minute,” I reply, not taking my eyes off Cam. “Your video… the Lahaina fundraiser, already hit two million. The DareSquad showed up in force. They listened toyou.”

She blinks in surprise. “Really?”

“They saw what I see—someone who actually cares about others, about causes worth fighting for.” I clasp her hand again, pushing off the EMT’s attempt to wrap a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

“Mr. Dare, please,” he says, “your injuries—”

“I fired Gordon. I’m changing the whole company, the content—all of it. No more empty stunts or superficial bullshit.”

“That’s… good,” she says carefully. “But that’s not why I—”

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