Raiders of the Lost Heart(89)

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.”

“Well, you made it my business by making her cry. I’m not going to let you hurt one of my best friends—”

“It’s too late for that, Ethan!” Ford yelled, spinning around to face Ethan head-on. A few of the other campers turned, then Ford quieted his voice. “I fucked things up, okay? I fucked it up and there’s no taking it back. No fixing things. So I don’t need you standing here telling me what I should do, because none of it will make a lick of a difference.”

Ethan gave Ford a sad smile, then said, “Come on, let’s take a walk,” patting Ford on the shoulder and heading away from the showers.

Ford growled to himself. Why wouldn’t Ethan let it go?

A shower opened, and for a moment Ford debated letting Ethan go off on a solo sojourn so he could get ready and wash away the evening. Wash away the vision of Corrie crying alone in the darkness. But with a heavy sigh, he gave in, following Ethan away from the rest of the camp. They walked over to the fire pit area, deserted and empty, where Ethan took a seat on the ground, resting his back against a log. Tension filled the air. Ethan was waiting—waiting for Ford to spill it. Explain what he’d done so then Ethan could chew him out. What was the point in trying to hide it any longer though?

Ford plopped onto the ground beside Ethan and stared at the sky for a moment before unloading everything—his dad’s debt, his mother’s treatments, the payout from the dig, the blackmailing, and his deception. He didn’t leave anything out. Not his failed relationship with Addy. Or his unsuccessful attempt at tenure. Not even Corrie’s late-night loan. And with every bit of information, every flaw, he sank deeper into his shame. Did he have any good qualities?

“That it?” Ethan asked, almost jokingly, when Ford finally finished.

“Yep.” Ford mangled a stick in his hands, twisting it around and around until a piece snapped off. “Though I’m sure I’ve done some other terrible things that I’m forgetting. Or, more likely, that I’ve blocked out. Like I said . . . I fucked it up. I’m a selfish piece of shit. I honestly don’t even know how you can stand being next to me right now.”

“Eh, you’re not so bad. And you may have made some bad decisions—I mean really bad,” he said, causing Ford to wince. “But you’re anything but selfish. Selfish would mean you took this job to get rich. Or you let that dickwad ruin the rest of us. Or you didn’t tell Corrie the truth. You could have easily gotten away with her not knowing. And that would have been the ultimate douchebag move. But you didn’t do those things. And the fact that you’re letting her go . . . that’s the least selfish thing you could do. Because she’s amazing and you’ll never find another woman like her.”

Ford sighed, resting his head back on the downed tree trunk behind them and staring at the green-and-blue-speckled canopy above. “Please tell me something I don’t already know.”

“All right. Did you know I’ve only ever seen Corrie cry two times in the twelve years I’ve known her and both times were because of you?”

He lifted his head and raised his brow. Two times? “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, it’s supposed to make you realize that despite everything, she probably still wants to be with you.”