Page 87 of Spurred On

“I’m not sad.”

He sent her a dubious look.

“I’m not. I was just . . .” She waved in the general direction Hanna and Logan had gone. “I’m happy for them.”

Cody sighed. “I’ll never understand women.”

“What?” She scowled at him. “How is that germane to the conversation?”

“Very germane. You’re happy for your sister, so you weep?”

“I wasn’t weeping.”

“What then?”

“Happy-leaking.” She held up two fingers, very close together. “And only a little bit.”

He gaped at her. “‘Happy-leaking’? Is that a thing?”

“It is very much a thing.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

She patted his knee. “Well, men happy-leak in a very different way.”

His stunned expression, as he caught her meaning, was priceless. And then he threw back his head and laughed. It was a mellifluous sound, enchanting and enticing, and she realized she’d never heard him laugh—really laugh—before. She liked it.

She endeavored to make him do it again.

And so, as incomprehensible as it may have seemed, they spent the morning in the hospital waiting room, chatting and jesting and making each other laugh. Sidney gathered all this hope, this happiness, this positive energy and willed it to her father, mentally surrounding him with love and affection and the great joys of life. Hoping her efforts and energy somehow bolstered his strength and lit a fire in his soul to fight this illness and overcome it. And if that was a prayer, so be it.

She and Cody were just starting to talk about what to do for lunch when he suddenly stilled. “Oh my God,” he said. “She’s coming.”

Sidney’s eyes went wide at the horror in his tone. “Who?”

“Tibby.” A flare of panic flickered in his eyes, but she was certain he was only joking. Probably. “Remember, you promised to save me?”

“Did I promise to save you?”

“I’m pretty sure you did.”

“I remember talking about grenades and letting Ford fall on them.”

“Ford’s not here. Please, Sidney. I need you.”

She snorted a laugh. “You never need anyone.”

His expression went solemn. “How very wrong you are.”

His words threw her for a loop, tugged at her heartstrings, weakened her . . . which was probably why she said, “All right. But remember, I’m taking a bullet for you. You owe me.”

“I do. I totally do. Oh . . . there she is.”

Sidney saw Tibby out of the corner of her eye in that pink-striped uniform and the jaunty cap that would never be allowed in any other setting.

“Okay. What do you want me to—?”

But she never finished the sentence, because just at that moment, Cody cupped her cheeks and pulled her closer and—good lord—kissed her.