“Corrie.” He said her name breathlessly. “I never said that I didn’t care about you. I care about you so, so much. So much it makes me feel like I’m choosing between the only two people in this entire world that I truly care about, except that the damage occurred before there was any other option.
“You say you hate what I did, but I guarantee I hate it even more. Hate it because I hurt you. Hate it because it will hurt my mother, knowing how I got the money. Hate it because I became the one thing I promised myself I’d never be—my father. But I hate that it’s planted this seed of self-doubt in you. Socorro Mejía, you are anything but a fool. I’m the fool for letting you slip through my fingers.”
His face strained, as if it pained him to speak those words. She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to force herself not to cry. Hopeless love. That was what this was.
“Will you hold me?” she asked.
His eyes were full of pain and uncertainty. “I’m completely sticky and gross.”
“I don’t care. Even you sticky and gross is better than the emptiness that I’m feeling at the thought of saying goodbye to you in a few days.” Her voice quivered. Tough chicas didn’t cry.
Maybe she wasn’t so tough after all.
He pulled her in toward his body and, yep, she was right. Even with the humidity and the sweat, it still felt better to be in his arms than not.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “If I could take it all back, rewind all the way to that night in the library, I would. I’d go back and kiss you and maybe . . . maybe we would have had a chance.”
She squeezed her eyes tight and buried her face in his chest, as if she could will the tears away. If only time worked that way.
She lifted her head and stared at him looking at her. Like that first night in the library—well, aside from the whole half-naked thing—but the look. That questioning in his eyes.
Should I kiss her? they asked.
She lifted herself on her toes and answered him by placing her lips on his. He took her in, holding her tighter in his arms as their tongues glided together. Much like their wet bodies. She needed his kiss, needed it once more before she never saw him again. Needed to implant the memory of his touch in her head so she could judge future relationships against this feeling. Because if she didn’t feel this, it wasn’t worth it.
But he pulled away and let go of her body, and the feeling of emptiness returned.
“Stop, stop. We can’t,” he said, backing up toward the bed. “We’re making it harder for ourselves.”
They’d never see each other after this. She couldn’t let that be their last kiss.
“Then kiss me one more time. One more time before we say goodbye.”
He took two slow steps toward her, his chest heaving and matching her breaths, one to one. Her heart pounded, fearful of this final kiss. Afraid that it wouldn’t be enough to remember him. Reaching one hand to her face and tucking a loose strand behind her ear, he pulled her into his body with the other hand once more and planted his lips softly upon hers. A kiss that said everything that his words couldn’t.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
And goodbye.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
How on earth was it possible to wake up with a hangover despite not having a single drop to drink in several days?
Ford sat in bed, his mind still processing the evening before. Corrie’s presence both eased and complicated things. Eased his immediate worries about how he would cover his mom’s treatments. But just about everything else made his life much more complicated. Complicated because he was one hundred percent certain that he was in love with Corrie and ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent certain he’d never love another woman like this. Complicated in that he was ninety-eight percent certain she loved him, but one hundred percent certain she would love another man someday. A man who deserved her and had earned her love.
But mostly complicated because, without a doubt, had he not stopped them, things would have ended with them in bed. He’d have been tormenting himself. Selfishly savoring her. Momentarily fooling himself into believing they still had a chance. A glimmer of hope that wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
The sooner they got out of Mexico, the better. If they stayed any longer, he couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t have a repeat of last night. Worse yet, he couldn’t guarantee he’d have the willpower to stop. All he wanted at this point was to get himself as far away from her as possible so she wouldn’t get hurt. Not by him. Not by Vautour. Not by anyone.
The entire camp dragged ass that morning, zapped of their energy from the unrelenting heat. Even though a light breeze had eventually kicked up in the middle of the night, finally providing some relief, the early-morning sun already warned of another scorcher. Too bad he’d promised himself he’d stay away from Corrie, otherwise he’d join them at the waterfall cave to cool down. But at least she’d be comfortable. He deserved the sun’s punishment. Preparation for his eternity in the underworld.
Okay, perhaps he was being a bit dramatic. But, then again, a life without Corrie would be hell.
The line at the shower was longer than normal for a workday morning. Ford’s skin had a thin coating of last night’s sweat. Others must have had the same.
“Sleep all right?” Ethan asked, patting Ford on the back as he got in line for the showers.
“No. Slept like garbage. You?”
“Lucky you slept at all. I spent half the night on the porch butt-ass naked.”
Ford laughed. Glad someone could find humor during all this. “Good thing no one was up to see you.”
“Oh, I’m not sure about that. Not about anyone seeing me, but about no one else being up.”
Ethan quirked his brow at Ford. Corrie. He’d seen Corrie.
“What is it, Ethan? Just come out with it. I’m too hot and exhausted to play coy.”
“Why was she crying? She barely made it to her tent before collapsing on the porch. What did you do, Ford?”
Ford’s insides ached. Sure, last night had been tough on both of them, but when she’d left his tent, she’d seemed okay, or as okay as she could be, all things considered. After that perfect yet torturous kiss, she’d smiled and told him good night like she’d done almost every night for the past few weeks.
And why did Ethan automatically assume it was Ford’s fault?
Oh right.
“We ended things,” he responded without further elaboration.
“What? Why? You two are perfect for each other.”
“It’ll never work. Not beyond the confines of this camp. And she’s the one who’s perfect, not me.”
“So you’re going to let her go?” Ethan asked, his voice full of disbelief.
“I’m not letting her go. Look, it’s complicated.”
“Yeah, complicated because you’re being a dumbass,” he argued back.
Ford narrowed his eyes at Ethan. “Okay, Ethan. Maybe you should stop acting like you know anything about this situation and drop it. Besides, it’s none of your business.”