“Well, I knew you’d never forgive me if I let him get away with that knife. And I’d never forgive myself if you got hurt. What else was I supposed to do?”
Her heart pounded. He’d saved her. Saved heragain. Badass Mejía had needed saving by Weak Sauce Matthews, and in his mind, he’d had no other options.
“Ford... I—”
“We should get back,” he cut her off. “They’re going to be looking for us soon and we don’t want them to think we took off.”
He started to sit up, then cried out in pain and collapsed on the ground.
“What’s wrong? What is it?” she said, scooting closer to examine him, his arm wrapped around his waist. “Is it your arm?” she asked, seeing the blood everywhere.
But he lifted his shirt and it was so much worse. Blood pooled out of a wound in his side. “Oh my God, Ford! He stabbed you!”
As if that wasn’t obvious.
“It’s fine,” he said, sucking in a breath and closing his eyes. His lips pulled into a tight line as he tried settling his breaths. “I just need to get to camp.”
“No, Ford, it’s not fine. You’re losing a lot of blood. Here,” she said as she pulled off her shirt and bundled it into a wad to press against the wound. But Corrie was no medic. Sure, she’d found herself in enough scuffles to know her way around a first aid kit, but she’d never encountered a wound like this. Never something life-threatening.
He cried out once more when she pressed the shirt against his body. “Okay, maybe it’s not fine,” he said.
“Then come on. We need to get you back,” she said, trying to wrap his arm around her neck. But his body was like dead weight, impossible for her to lift. And he winced again.
“I can’t,” he said. “I don’t think I can move.”
“Then we’ll wait. Like you said, they’ll be looking for us soon.”
“You should go get help.”
“No, I can’t go.”
“I don’t... I don’t think I’m going to make it if you don’t get someone.”
“No, Ford! Don’t say that. You’ll make it,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I’m not leaving you alone out here!”
Her body trembled as she pressed firmly against his wound, willing the blood to stop.Let him live. Please, God, let him live.
“Corrie?” His voice was calm. Serene. She studied his face as he brought his hand to hers. “Corrie, I love you.”
What was this? Was he... was he saying goodbye?
“Ford, please just relax. Conserve your energy.”
“I want you to know,” he continued, completely ignoring her pleas, “these last few weeks have been the best weeks of my life. You brought adventure to my life. Passion. A reason to live. I’d say I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, and in many ways I am,but... I’m not sorry for any of those moments I had with you. And I’m not sorry that I fell in love with you.”
“Shh,” she hushed, touching his lips and chest and hands. “Quit talking like that. Quit talking like this is the end.”
“Isn’t it, though? I can’t feel the pain anymore. Not in my stomach. The only pain I have is in my heart for having to say goodbye to you.”
“No! No, Ford. You’re not leaving me!” She shot her hands on both sides of his face, forcing him to hold her gaze. “Stay with me!”
“I’ll always be with you. Part of the legend of Badass Mejía. When Weak Sauce Matthews saved her life half a dozen times,” he said with a slight chuckle, followed by a wince.
She laughed through her cries. How, even after everything, could he still make her smile? Still make her heart sing? Even in the worst of times.
“Hey...Isavedyouthis time,” she said through her sniffles.
“Corrie... you’ve saved me in more ways than one.” He took her hand and squeezed. “Promise me something.”
