Page 26 of Finding Gideon
My throat went dry. I wasn’t used to people making space for grief without trying to fix it—or steer away from it.
Malcolm swiveled toward me, legs angled open in an easy posture. “Anyway, I liked hearing about him.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. And the Raines twins? That’s a hell of a title.”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “We thought we were cool as hell with that name.”
“You probably were.” His smile was slow, warm. “You still are, Gideon.”
Something warm uncurled low in my chest, unfamiliar enough that I shifted my weight like that might shake it loose. “Anyway,” I said, glancing toward the hall, “I just wanted to say thanks.” I huffed out a breath. I so wasn’t used to having emotions I couldn’t explain.
His voice softened. “You think I’m doing you a favor, but truth is, I kind of like having you around.”
It landed simple. Uncomplicated. No agenda. And it made me want to say more, do more—but I didn’t trust myself to hide what I shouldn’t be feeling.
So I just said, “Guess I’ll go start closing up.”
His smile lingered. “Alright. See you in a bit.”
Chapter 9
Malcolm
A low hum of voices drifted out as I pushed the door open, warm air rolling against the cooler evening behind us. Not packed, but full—like this place always had a handful of regulars, faces shifting with the seasons, stories changing, the bones of it staying the same.
Pints ‘n Pool had that almost-cabin feel, the wood paneling warm under the lights, booths lining the far wall, tables filling the center. The bar hugged the edge of the room near the stairs that led up to the rental rooms. Everything felt tended to, not pristine, but cared for. The kind of place that didn’t mind a little scuff as long as the beer stayed cold.
Gideon followed behind me, close enough that I caught the faint edge of soap and something sharper I couldn’t place yet. Not that I was trying to place it. Just… noticed.
Theo and Ronan were already at a booth, side by side like they’d been molded that way. Theo caught sight of us and lifted his chin in greeting, forearm draped loosely over the back of the seat, the other hand curled around his pint. Ronan glanced up with a grin like he’d been told a secret and was deciding when to share it.
“Malcolm! Thought you’d changed your mind,” Ronan called.
“Not yet,” I said, stepping aside for Gideon to follow. “I didn’t want to miss the chance to meet more folks.”
Gideon gave a nod—polite, not stiff, but careful. His whole posture readguest at somebody else’s family dinner, even though this wasn’t that.
We were halfway to the booth when Merle’s voice cut across the room like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. “Evening, Doc. Bringing company tonight, I see.”
Didn’t even have to look to know he was on his usual stool by the bar, boots hooked on the lower rung, half-empty glass sweating rings onto the polished surface.
Gideon flinched like the words hit skin. A soft flush started to climb the side of his neck, just below the curve of his ear.
“Evening, Merle,” I said evenly, steering us toward the booth before the man could decide to get creative.
“Don’t mind him,” Theo murmured as we reached the table, barely hiding his grin. “He’s been stationed there since electricity.”
Ronan huffed a laugh, already making room for us. “And he’s still not house-trained.”
I slid into the seat opposite them, the booth’s wooden edge warm under my arm. Gideon settled next to me, careful again, as if he hadn’t quite decided whether he belonged here yet.
Theo leaned in, elbows on the table. “First round’s on us. What’re you having?”
“Pale ale, whatever’s local.”
“Same,” Gideon said, quick, like the word had been wound up and waiting for release.
