Nate

Nate lay in the bed of the pickup truck staring up at the clouds. Camille was curled against him. Her breath warm on his neck was enough to make his heart turn over in his chest. It was a soft reassurance that soothed him like nothing else. The rise and fall of her breath matched the ocean, creating a euphoric lullaby that made him close his eyes.

He held her tightly, willing himself to stay in the moment. He just wanted to hold onto the happiness. Making love to Camille had broken him apart and put him back together again. He laced his fingers with hers, trying not to think about how fragile she was. He could truly feel it now, with nothing between them.

Camille was putting up a good front, but it was hard not to notice how much thinner she was. Rage ignited inside of him. Nate wanted to burn the world apart for being so unjust to someone like Camille. Nate shoved his anger aside. He’d become an expert at locking it away. He knew there would be time for it later. But right now, he just wanted to be present with Cami.

He kissed the top of her head and she snuggled closer. She sighed into him. He tried to remain focused on the good. Like the warmth of her body and the strength with which she clung to him when they made love. Her resilience amazed him. Every day he watched and waited, knowing each moment brought them a step closer to goodbye. But she was still here. The girl he loved was still with him. And he was desperate to make himself believe that was enough.

He took it as a good sign that she hadn’t had a relapse since the hospital. There was a time when she’d first come home when her parents had wanted to call in hospice. Nate didn’t know what that meant at the time, and since Camille hated talking about anything cancer related, he’d decided to Google lymphoma and hospice. It had been a mistake. One horrible webpage led to the next and before he knew it, Nate was being swallowed by the black hole of cancer and the stages of dying. He’d promptly thrown up his dinner and spent the next forty minutes hiding his tears in the shower until the water ran cold.

Nate had abstained from morbid online research ever since. But still, he knew Camille was dying. No matter how tangible and warm she was, he was losing her little by little each day. It was excruciating to watch someone you loved disappear before your very eyes. Nate felt like he was constantly trying to hold water in the palm of his hand, but no matter what, it kept slipping through the cracks.

He felt guilty thinking like this when he was with Camille. Each moment with her was so exquisite that he didn’t want to waste it not being completely present. But it still didn’t stop him from being angry. He was mad at everything. Mad at cancer and the doctors for not being able to fix it. Mad at Cami for not wanting to give them more time. Mad at God or maybe the universe, because sometimes Nate didn’t know what he believed in anymore. The world seemed upside-down. Because in what universe was it okay for someone as wonderful as Cami to be taken away? And why did it have to hurt so bad?

Nate had never experienced pain like this. He thought losing Tyler was the worst thing he’d ever have to go through in his life. And it was awful. But Nate had survived. He’d fought through the grief and suffocating depression of losing his only brother. And he’d come out the other side. Nate was stronger for it. He’d learned to grab life by the balls and soak up every opportunity to live. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to get knocked down again. Not like this. It wasn’t fair.

With Ty it had been different. Not better or worse. Just different. Ty was there one minute, gone the next—just wiped away. There was nothing for Nate to do. But with Cami, it was a constant tilt-a-whirl of torture. And it was killing him. Nate wanted to scream and cry and shake her, begging for her to fight.

He’d promised her he wouldn’t ask her to change her mind, but it still didn’t stop the wave of despair that pulled him under. It was worse in the quiet hours of night, when Nate held Camille in his arms, just trying to hold on—to stay in place. It was becoming impossible to do without imagining what it soon would be like without her there beside him. How could he not try to memorize her, when he knew she was going to be taken away?

Nate knew he had no right to ask her for anything more. Not after all she’d already given. Everyone asked for more. Her parents, the doctors, teachers, students—but Nate couldn’t be one of them. No matter how much the voice inside him was screaming—Stay! Stay with me. I’m nothing without you. Don’t leave me.

He needed to be strong for her. He needed to be what she needed. Nate pushed his thoughts down deeper, shutting them away as he studied the sliver map of scars that disrupted Camille’s perfect skin. They shimmered in the moonlight as he traced his fingers across them. It’d taken months for Nate to be able to skim his fingers down Camille’s back without her flinching. He knew she hated her scars, no matter what he told her. He saw beauty and strength, but he could see it in her eyes . . . she only saw the surgeries and biopsies. And that was why he couldn’t ask her to give anymore of herself. She’d already given too much.

Nate was lucky to just be in her presence. He held her tight praying for a tenth of her strength, so he might be strong enough to keep going, when she could not.

Cami

Camille reveled in the warmth Nate spread through her. She could still feel the echoes of fireworks beneath her skin. Making love to Nate in the ocean had been a form of magic she didn’t know existed. She was currently lying next to him, reliving every moment of their night together.

As if the night wasn’t already everything she’d ever hoped for and more, Nate had surprised Camille further by carrying her from the ocean to the truck where the entire bed of the pickup was full of blankets, cushions and pillows. Nate had dried her off, wrapped her in a blanket and climbed into the bed of the truck with her. And Camille had never felt more at peace, as she lay there, wrapped in Nate’s arms gazing up at the stars.

It was a rare cloudless night, and the sky glittered with winking starlight. It reminded Camille of the dress Nate bought her for prom. He was the most thoughtful person she’d ever met. The way he constantly surprised her was mind-boggling. And as she looked at him, his face turned up to stare at the heavens, she wondered how she’d ever managed without him.

Thinking of herself without Nate was like listening to a song missing a chord. The thought struck Camille and her heart faltered. Nate turned to look at her, as if he somehow sensed her sorrow. The grief she witnessed in the shine of his eyes was impossible to bear. She knew she was breaking his heart, because she too was shattering apart and Nate was the only thing holding her together.

This wasn’t part of the plan. She was never supposed to fall in love. Love made everything impossible. And for the first time, Camille could name her fear. She realized that she wasn’t afraid to die, but to die afraid. If she let go now, she would always regret it. She owed it to Nate to fight. She owed it to herself.

Nate’s hand brushed her cheek, catching the tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. “Cami?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “I love you, Nate.”

“I love you, too.” His eyes searched hers. “Are you okay? Do you want to go inside?”

“Not yet.” She sat up and so did he.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Okay.”

Nate took her hands, warmth and patience present in every touch.

Camille didn’t know how to start. She closed her eyes. “I never planned for this. I never planned to fall in love with you. But now . . .” She took a shuddering breath and let the rest of the words tumble out in a rush. “But now all my plans are ruined. I’m ruined. But I’m grateful for it. Because you showed up with your ridiculous smile and your chaos and you showed me what it’s like to be alive. You make me want to forget my plans, Nate. You make me want to live.”

Camille watched her words register on Nate’s face. Even with the moonlight washing the world pale, she could see the color drain from his cheeks.

“Cami . . . what are you saying?”

“I want to fight, Nate. I don’t know how much more time it will give us, but I want to fight for every second.”

His voice was so soft that she barely heard him over the crash of the waves. “You want to fight?”

She nodded. “I want to fight.”

Nate threw his arms around her and pulled her into a trembling embrace. “Oh thank God,” he whispered, tears streaking down his face.

In that moment Camille knew it had never really been a choice. She couldn’t leave Nate of her own free will. He was her heart, and it wouldn’t beat without him.