Page 75 of Spurred On

“Be nice,” Cody growled. “She’s having a rough time.”

While it was nice to have Cody defend her, Cade didn’t seem contrite. “She can take it,” he said with a wink.

Claire gusted out a sigh. “She’ll have to, if she’s staying here.”

Sidney blinked. “Oh, I can’t stay here.”

Four heads whipped around. Claire frowned. “Of course you’re staying here. You can’t do this all on your own.”

She shook her head and focused on the pile of pastries on the tray. “I can’t. Mama wouldn’t be comfortable here. She’s restless when she’s not in her own home.”

Lisa set her hand on Sidney’s. “Of course she is. No worries. I’ll come and stay with you. We’ll do this together.”

Claire frowned. “She’s my friend. I should be the one to stay with her.”

“We’re all friends,” Cody said. He caught Sidney’s gaze. “Aren’t we?” When she nodded—she had to—he added, “We’ll take turns. I’ll take you to the hospital this morning, and Claire and Lisa can go get your mother from Mrs. Johnson and take her home.”

She couldn’t ask them to disrupt their lives. It was too much. “I—”

Oh, but they ignored her. In fact, they broke into an animated conversation—amongst themselves—about how and when and where things would happen. Sidney was just washed along like so much flotsam in the arroyo during a flood. And strange as it seemed, it felt . . . nice.

“Great,” Cody said, slapping his hands on the table. “It’s all settled. Ready to go into town?”

She was, but she had to object, at least once. “You guys, I can’t let you—”

“Hush,” Lisa said with uncustomary curtness. “You would do the same for us.”

Sidney gaped at her. That was utterly and completely debatable. She liked to think she was that kind of person, but her choices in the past certainly did not seem to concur. But faced with such stolid determination, it was better to just go along with it. So as Cody rose, she did as well, and she followed him to his truck. He helped her in—it was impossibly high. Why did trucks in Texas need to be to freaking enormous?

She settled into the seat and waited for him to come around to the driver’s side. As soon as he was in, she felt the need to object, one more time. “Cody . . .” He turned to her—those big blue eyes boring into her soul—and she forgot what she’d been going to say. “I . . .”

He grinned. “It’s okay, Sidney. Just relax. Everything is going to be all right.”

And somehow he made her feel like it was.

All the way into town, it bothered her—him being so nice when she’d been such a horrible person to him. All kinds of uncomfortable thoughts swirled in her head. Her conversation with Hanna, her conversation with Ben, her conversations with him. They all made her feel small.

So when they pulled into the parking garage and he turned off the engine, she set her hand on his. He stilled.

“Cody.” She waited until he looked at her, because he deserved to hear this face-to-face. “I’m sorry.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you.”

“Oh. That.” There was no call for him to grin. “It’s okay, Sidney.”

“No. It’s not. I was holding a grudge against you for something you did when you were a kid, and that was wrong.”

He shifted as though her apology made him uncomfortable.

“What you’ve done for me here . . . makes me feel like the lowest creature on the planet.”

“Sidney—”

“No. No. It does. Because I was wrong. Would you . . .” She swallowed because the words were really prickly in her throat. “Would you be willing to start again? As . . . friends?”

A shadow flickered over his features and his jaw tightened, but he nodded and said, “I’d like that very much, actually.”