Page 28 of Finding Gideon
The thought came out of nowhere, landing sharp before I could shove it aside.
Gideon caught me looking and blinked like he’d been somewhere else too.
The flush hadn’t gone anywhere.
Plates hit the table a little while later, carried by a server who looked like she could deadlift any one of us without blinking. Burgers stacked tall, fries spilling over the sides, cheese melted recklessly down the edges. The loaded fries Ronan had talked up arrived in a heap, buried under bacon and scallions, the whole thing shining like it should come with a warning label.
Theo whistled low. “Gorgeous.”
Ronan reached for one before the plate hit the wood. “Don’t fall in love with it. You’ll get your heart broken.”
I unwrapped my burger, already feeling grease slick my fingertips. “Looks like heartbreak’s worth it.”
Across from me, Gideon shifted, like he wasn’t sure where to put his elbows or his attention. He reached for a fry but stopped halfway, wiping his palm against his jeans first.
“You’re not allergic to any of this, are you?” Theo asked, chewing halfway through his sentence.
Gideon shook his head. “No. Just... not used to all this.”
“All this... food?” Ronan raised a brow.
“All this... people.” Gideon’s voice dropped near the end, soft, like maybe he hoped the fries would speak for him instead.
I didn't expect that. Thought maybe he’d just been tense because of Merle’s poking, or the way towns like this sometimes got too nosy about folks they didn’t know yet. But no—this was something else. Like he wasn’t just unused tohere. He was unused tocompany.
“Small towns are quirky,” I said finally, offering a kind of truce. “Everyone’s either in your business, or they’re pretending they don’t notice you at all.”
“Or both at the same time,” Theo added, licking grease from his thumb.
Gideon let out a short breath, not quite a laugh, but it curled around the edges of one. His shoulders relaxed a notch, like someone letting out a breath they’d been holding for too long.
And I noticed that. Noticed the shape of him in the window light, the line of his jaw beneath that scruff, the way his hands curled carefully around the pint glass like he was afraid of breaking things he touched.
I didn't know what to do with that noticing, but it was there now, sharp and insistent at the edge of my thoughts.
Theo elbowed Ronan lightly. “Remember when you first moved in with me, and you were weird about the couch?”
“Wasn’t weird about it. I was cautious. That couch looked haunted.”
“Itwashaunted,” Theo agreed, pointing his fry like a weapon. “But that’s not the point. Point is—new things are weird until they’re not.”
“Good talk,” Ronan deadpanned.
Theo ignored him. “You’re good, Gideon. Take your time.”
For the first time since we’d sat down, Gideon looked directly at someone for longer than a blink. “Thanks.”
His gaze slid over to me next, just for a second, like maybe I was part of that too.
I didn't have a name for what that did to my chest, so I picked up my burger and took a bite like that solved something.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
The conversation drifted after that—small-town events, whose dog had done something ridiculous, Theo’s loud opinion on the best pie in the county—until he suddenly slapped the edge of the table, making the pint glasses jump. “Enough carbs. Let’s shoot something.”
The pool tables sat under their own set of overhead lamps, green felt glowing softly beneath the light. Cues leaned in acrooked row against the wall, and someone had left a scribbled chalk heart near the rack of balls, fading but still visible.
“Teams?” Ronan asked, already rolling his shoulders like this was a sanctioned event.
