The Goodbye Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Series Book 3)

by Christina Benjamin

  Dark spots danced in the edge of Camille’s vision as she tried to reassure herself that everything was going to be okay. Things would go back to normal as soon as she kicked this cold.

  She’d been running a fever ever since she spent the night at Nate’s. Perhaps dancing in the frigid rain, then having sex in the back seat of a car was pushing her luck as far as her health was concerned. The stress of fighting with her parents hadn’t helped either. But even now, as she shivered from the chill that rippled across her feverish skin, Camille didn’t regret anything. Her only regret was hurting Nate. But she was sure he’d get over her. He was a gorgeous musician from California with a smile to rival the sun. Guys like that didn’t fall for dying girls.

  Camille’s fingers began to tingle. She made fists over and over to try to increase her circulation. Her chest felt heavy. She hoped she wasn’t getting pneumonia again. That would keep her out of school for a while. Then again . . . she didn’t need to go back to NOAH to graduate. They were accommodating to her situation. Camille had completed most of seventh grade from the hospital. Perhaps she could finish the last few weeks of school from home?

  That would make the Nate situation easier. He’d forget all about her in a few weeks. Camille closed her eyes and fought against the fear crawling up her spine. She just needed the strength to stick to her plan. Only a few more weeks until graduation. She could make it.

  This was just a little cold. Or maybe she was only heartsick. She’d certainly never felt agony like this before. As shivers racked her body, Camille found herself wondering why people even fell in love in the first place if the fall out was this bad. She’d rather go through another round of chemo than the pain she’d caused Nate.

  Telling him the truth about her cancer and her plan to end her life was the worst thing Camille had ever gone through. Fear that she’d made a huge mistake took root in her bones. And as much as she tried to reason with herself, fear didn’t listen to the truth—and Cami wasn’t even sure what that was anymore.

  Nate

  Nate didn’t know at what point his dad had come home, or how he’d stopped him from destroying his bedroom. But Nate stood, arms pinned at his side, crushed against his dad’s large frame. He smelled like booze, but his grip was steady and his eyes surprisingly clear.

  “I got you. I got you, son.” His dad repeated the phrase, crushing Nate hard enough to steal his breath.

  It was a long time before Nate calmed down. And even longer before he was able to speak. But eventually, he sat on his overturned mattress with his dad and told him everything that happened with Camille.

  Nate was crying by the time he was finished, and so was his dad. Nate had only ever seen him cry once, at Tyler’s funeral. And the sight of his tears now, only made Nate realize how hopeless things with Cami really were.

  “I don’t know what to do, Dad.”

  His dad sighed and scrubbed his rough hands over his face. “I wish I had an answer for you, Nate. You’ve been put in a tough spot.”

  “I mean she’s crazy, right? She can’t just quit life.”

  “I don’t think anyone who’s fought an illness like that for nine years can be called a quitter, son. None of us have any earthly idea what she’s been through or how much more she can take. I think we have a responsibility to let her parents know what’s going on in her head. But ultimately, I think she’s the only one who can make that call.”

  “But I don’t want to lose her, Dad. I can’t lose her, not after Ty, and mom, and . . .”

  “You haven’t lost your mother. Is that how you feel?”

  “No. I know I haven’t. I’m glad she’s getting to follow her dreams, but sometimes I feel like I’ve lost so much. Everything’s so different. And I know we can’t go back, but when I think about how much I miss my old life, when we were all together, it’s like I can’t breathe. But Cami made it better.”

  “Nate, I wish I could tell you it gets better, but life’s a struggle. Sometimes the only choice you have is who you wanna struggle with.”

  The answer was simple. Cami. But how the hell could Nate fight for someone who wouldn’t fight for herself?

  “I don’t know how to get through to her, Dad.”

  “This isn’t gonna be an easy road to go down, Nate. So I want you to ask yourself if you’re really prepared for this. Cause it’s not something any parent wants to see their eighteen year old kid go through.”

  “I know, but I love her. And if I don’t at least try to help her, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

  His dad nodded slowly. “If you care for her like you say you do, you have to let her choose her own path, and respect that choice, even if it’s not the one you want.”

  Nate swallowed hard.

  “Do you think you can do that, son?”

  “I don’t think I have any other choice. I just want to be with her, for however long that means.”

  Nate’s dad clapped him on the shoulder. “Sleep on it, and if you feel the same in the morning I’ll take you over there. I think I should be there when you talk to her parents.”

  Nate nodded, although he wanted to go back over to Camille’s that instant. He’d wanted to go back the moment he’d left her room. But his dad was probably right. Nate’s nerves were fried. He needed to get some sleep before talking to Camille’s parents. And he knew one night wouldn’t change his mind about wanting to be a part of Cami’s life—nothing would.

  27

  Nate

  Nate knocked on the front door at Camille’s house early the next morning. His dad called, thinking it might not be the best idea to show up unannounced with news like this, but no one answered the phone. Nate insisted they go over anyway.

  “I don’t like you missing school,” his dad grumbled glancing at his watch again.

  “Dad, some things are more important than school.”

  “Yeah, I’ll let you try explaining that to your mother if the dean calls her.”

  Nate knocked on the door again. He could hear Poo going ballistic on the other side. There was no way the LaRue’s didn’t hear him.

  Finally the door creaked open and an unfamiliar face peered out. “May I help you?”

  Nate smiled politely at the old woman. “Uh, yes. I’m Nathan Hawthorne and this is my dad, Charles. We were hoping to talk to Camille and her parents. We’re sorry to drop by, but it’s important.”

  “Oh I’m so sorry, dear. They’re not home.”

  Dread filled Nate. Not home? Camille hadn’t looked well enough to be anywhere but in bed when he’d last seen her. “Do you know when they’ll be back?”

  The woman gave Nate a sympathic look. “No I’m sorry I don’t. They just asked me to stop by and check on their dog while they were gone.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “They left for the hospital last night.”

  Nate’s legs bobbed like pistons in the hospital waiting room. He’d been there for two hours and didn’t know anything more than Camille was in the ICU. The nurse wouldn’t let him back since he wasn’t family.

  Nate couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He was terrified that this was his fault. What if he’d upset Cami so much that she’d accelerated her timeline? If she’d tried to kill herself and he hadn’t done anything to stop her . . .

  He was sick to his stomach at the thought. Nate’s chest felt hollow and tight. He vaguely wondered if maybe he was having a heart attack. At least he was in the best place possible, should his anxiety get the best of him.

  His dad’s heavy hand clamped down on his jittery knee. “Nate, take a breath. Worrying yourself to death isn’t doing Camille any favors.”

  “Do you think you could try talking to the nurse again?” Nate asked. “Maybe we should tell them what Cami said she was going to do.”

  Nate’s dad eyed him sternly. “Nate, if you think she tried to harm herself you need to tell me right now.”

  “I don’t know anymore than I told you, Dad. I just know she was
upset when I left her last night.”

  His dad sighed. “Let me go talk to the nurse again.”

  Nate checked his phone for lack of something better to do. He kept flipping through photos of him and Camille. She looked so alive. For someone who claimed to be tired of fighting, she certainly hid it well. She’d said he made her feel better. But could he really have helped Cami that much?

  Nate studied her smile in each photograph as if trying to spot the lie—by the river, at Jackson Square, on his skateboard, eating beignets, watching the sunset, making donuts at Sweet Thang’s.

  Sweet Thang’s! Did Ronnie know?

  Nate was dialing the number before he even knew what he was going to say. Of course Ronnie knew. He was a self-proclaimed psychic! And he’d known Camille forever. He was probably her best friend. Nate didn’t know if he was more hurt that Ronnie didn’t tell him, or grateful for the time he’d allowed them to have together. Because now that Nate knew, there was no going back.

  Ronnie picked up after four rings. “Sweet Thang’s, this is Ronnie.”

  “Ronnie? It’s Nate.”

  The phone was silent for a beat. When Ronnie spoke again all the joy had vanished from his voice. “Is it time?”

  “I don’t know. I’m at the hospital. They won’t let me see her.”

  “They will, sugar.”

  “Ronnie . . . I have to ask you something.”

  “I’ll save you the trouble, bebe. There’s some things even I can’t see.”

  “But you said—”

  Ronnie interrupted. “I told you it wouldn’t be easy, Nathaniel. But that it’d be worth it. Did I lie?”

  Nate took a deep breath. “No.”

  “Sometimes love means letting go.”

  “But I’m not ready.”

  “We never are, sugar. But keep the faith. I think our girl’s stronger than even she knows.”

  “Can you come here?”

  “Already on my way.”

  Nate hung up. It was strange talking to Ronnie on the phone—he somehow knew the questions before Nate got them out of his mouth. It was like he had a cheat sheet into Nate’s mind and it unsettled him. He pocketed the phone and looked around for his dad. He was standing near the desk talking to a doctor, who was taking notes on a clipboard. Nate’s dad caught his eye and waved him over.

  “This is my son, Nathan Hawthorne,” his dad said introducing him to Dr. Hamilton.

  “Nathan, would you mind having a conversation with me?” Dr. Hamilton asked.

  “Sure.”

  The doctor led Nate and his dad to a private meeting room just beyond the waiting room. When they entered, Camille’s father and a police officer were there. Nate stopped short and his dad walked into him.

  “Nathan. Mr. Hawthorne. This is Detective Alva. And I trust you know Mr. LaRue.”

  Nate nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt such a sudden flash of heat that he thought he might pass out. The room went white and his dad steadied him.

  “Please,” Nate managed to sputter. “Just tell me. Is she dead?”

  Detective Alva spoke first. “No, son. Have a seat. We were hoping you could tell us what Camille LaRue said to you in regards to taking her own life?”

  Nathan stilled.

  Camille’s dad reached across the table and took his hand. “Nate, you’re not in any trouble. And Cami’s doing as well as we can hope. But anything you could tell us would be helpful.”

  After Nate finished spilling his guts about anything that might have endangered Camille, which included telling her father about her planned suicide, their swim in the Mississippi, dancing in a frigid rainstorm and having sex in the back seat of her car, Nate was certain that even if Camille did pull through, he’d never be allowed to see her again.

  Satisfied with Nate’s testimony, the detective finally excused everyone from the room. Nate hadn’t thought he could feel much worse, but he couldn’t shake the guilt that his reckless behavior had caused Camille’s hospitalization. And he still didn’t know what exactly was wrong with her. Everyone in the meeting had tossed around medical words that he didn’t understand.

  Nate rushed to catch up to the doctor as they were leaving the small meeting room. “Dr. Hamilton. Can you tell me . . . was this my fault?”

  The doctor gave Nate a sympathetic smile. “While over exertion and stress can exacerbate the condition, her coronary artery spasm was most likely the cause of years of chemotherapy.”

  “Coronary artery spasm? Like a heart attack?” Again, Nate felt like he was having his own heart attack.

  “It sounds much worse than it is. As far as heart issues go, it’s minor.”

  “But she’s in the ICU.”

  “As you know Camille has stage four non-Hodgkin lymphoma. As a result, her immune system is rather compromised. She’s in ICU as a precaution.”

  “So she’s okay?”

  “We’re monitoring things, but her prognosis looks good for now.”

  “Do you think I can see her?”

  “I’m afraid that’s up to her parents.”

  Cami

  Camille opened her eyes to the subdued glow of the hospital room. Her mother was sitting in a chair next to her bed. Camille tried to sit up, but remembered the leads attached to her chest. She was sore, but her breathing was coming easier.

  “Hey, honey. How are you feeling?” her mother asked. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  Camille’s mother was in full hover-mode. She always got that way when they were in the hospital, never leaving her bedside, smothering her with questions, fluffing perfectly good pillows, repositioning blankets, requesting second and third opinions.

  “Can we go home yet?” Camille asked.

  “Not yet, honey. They’re just making sure you’re stable.”

  “I’ve been stable since this morning, Mom. I just want to go home.” Camille had a suspicion that there was something her mother wasn’t telling her. “Did you remember to ask Ronnie to come over to take care of Poo?”

  “I asked Rene to stop by instead.”

  “Mom! You know Poo hates Rene.”

  Her mother waved her off. “She’s our neighbor, it’s more convenient.”

  “Did you at least tell Ronnie I wasn’t coming in for my shift today?”

  “He knows.”

  Camille didn’t like the way her mother spoke with such finality. Something was definitely up. “Mom?”

  “Honey, please stop worrying. All you need to do is rest.”

  Before Camille could object, her father walked into the room.

  “Hey, sweetheart. Are you up for some visitors?”

  Her mother shot her father a warning glare.

  “Who’s here?” Camille asked.

  “Ronnie and Nate.”

  Camille’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Nate’s name. It was echoed on the heart monitor by a loud beep.

  Her mother stood abruptly. “Ray, we talked about this.”

  “Josie, can I speak to you in the hall for a moment?”

  Camille watched her parents step into the hall. She read her mother’s expression through the glass walls. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her mouth a firm line. Her father’s body language was the opposite, his hand gestures pleading and open.

  A few minutes later, her parents walked back in as a united front, pretending Camille hadn’t just witnessed their silent argument through the glass hospital walls.

  Her father spoke first. “Camille, we have to ask you something.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “Did you try to kill yourself yesterday?”

  “What?” The heart monitor spiked again. “Why would you say that?”

  “I just had a conversation with Nate and his father.”

  “And a police officer,” her mother added. “Camille this is serious. Why would you tell that boy you were going to kill yourself?”

  Camille was speechless. Betrayal roared through her veins like a tidal w
ave, but it receded just as quickly. What had she expected? It wasn’t fair for her to leave that burden on Nate. He’d have to tell someone eventually. At least now that it was out in the open Camille could relax. It was taking so much energy to lie to her parents.

  “Look, I’m sorry I said that to Nate, but I meant it.”

  Her mother looked appalled. “Why didn’t you tell us you felt this way?”

  “Because you never listen to me, Mom. You push and push for all these treatments and I’ve done everything for you. But we all know this is it. There’s nothing else we can do. And all the drugs and chemo make me feel like I’m already dead. I just want to enjoy the last few months I have left. Is that really so bad?”

  “Yes! Camille, you do not get to give up. I know this is a tough diagnosis but you can’t behave like this. You can’t just try to kill yourself because you had a fight with a boy. You—”

  “I didn’t try to kill myself! I had a heart attack, because my body is tired.”

  The monitor beeped faster.

  “Well you’ll have to excuse us if we don’t believe you, Camille. You’ve been lying to us for months about your medication and treatments. And now you invite this boy into your life with all these bad habits.”

  “Nate is not the problem, Mom! You are. I’m done. I don’t know what part of that you don’t understand. I’m going to graduate high school and then I’m done. I’m sorry. But I’ve given you everything I can.”

  “And what about what we’ve given, Camille? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. But this is my decision.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Camille’s mother stormed from the room and her father moved to go after her, but Camille called him back.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah, honey.”

  She felt bad about the exhaustion she saw in her father’s eyes. She knew she was putting him in a terrible spot. But she didn’t have a lot of time. “Do you think I could talk to Nate?”