Page 33 of Finding Gideon
“And now?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
Malcolm hesitated. “I’m still figuring that part out.”
Dennis chose that exact moment to leap up and rocket toward Malcolm again, this time throwing his whole body into his thigh like a four-legged missile.
Malcolm laughed, this time fully. “Okay, okay, I get it—you havethoughts, dog.”
I grinned. “He’s not exactly subtle.”
“No, but he’s persistent.” Malcolm looked at me again, and there was something quieter in his eyes.
That laugh stayed with me. It was low and warm, the kind of sound that made you want to hear more. And the way he looked at me… it tugged at something I hadn’t realized was there. Like a thread woven through me all along, only now catching on something solid.
I glanced away before he could read anything on my face. There was a warmth I wasn’t used to feeling, or maybe I’d just never stayed in one place long enough to recognize it. Garrett would’ve teased me about it—he always knew when someone had slipped past my guard, usually before I did. The only person who could ever read me. The only person I’d let in.
Until now, maybe.
Which was ridiculous.
I told myself it didn’t mean anything. That I wasn’t here for that.
Still, I didn’t pull away when Malcolm’s arm brushed mine again as we both turned toward the dog. Just a graze—skin to skin—but that small contact lodged in a place I didn’t quite recognize. Not uncomfortable. Just… new.
Dennis yipped, tail spinning like a wind-up toy, and barreled between us again, bumping my shin with a wet snuffle.
“Okay, that’s twice now,” Malcolm said. “I think he’s trying to herd us.”
“More like corral us,” I muttered, bending to ruffle the scruff behind his ears. “You’ve got opinions for someone who only got his name a minute ago.”
Dennis yipped like he’d been personally challenged and lunged at the rope again. I tugged back, half-laughing as his paws dug into the grass.
“Careful,” Malcolm said, grinning now, coffee forgotten on the porch rail. “You’ll lose a finger.”
“Then I’ll type one-handed for the rest of my life,” I shot back, bracing my heel in the dirt and pulling. Dennis skidded forward, then twisted free in a ridiculous sideways hop that sent both of us stumbling.
Malcolm stepped in to block him and got a mouthful of rope for his trouble. “Oh, you want me now?”
Dennis growled playfully, tail a blur.
Before I knew it, the three of us were in some chaotic version of keep-away, the dog zigging between us, Malcolm laughing, me laughing harder, until my breath hitched with the effort.
The thing was—I hadn’t played like this in… I couldn’t even pin it down. Maybe with Garrett, back when we’d found that litter of puppies dumped behind the feed store. We’d hidden them in the old shed behind the house, swaddled in horse blankets and warmed by a space heater we weren’t supposed to use. Garrett named them all. I just tried to keep them alive.
I didn’t laugh much these days. But here I was, rolling in the grass with a dog who had no manners and a man who somehow made me forget I didn’t do this anymore.
There were parts of me I didn’t show people—not out of shame, but because most never looked close enough to see them. Garrett had. Always had. From day one, literally. And after losing him, I figured that was it. There wouldn’t be anyone else I’d want to let in like that. Not really. Not fully.
I told myself that intimacy—the kind people wrote songs and sad poetry about—wasn’t built for someone like me. My wiring didn’t work that way. I couldn’t flip a switch. Couldn’t look at someone and just… want.
But now, sitting here with Malcolm and Dennis, feeling that tug in my chest… maybe it wasn’t want exactly. I didn’t even know what shape it might take yet. It was more like a gravitational pull. A door creaking open in a house I’d forgotten I lived in.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something. Maybe it was less like something to outrun and more like something I might be okay learning to understand—eventually.
If I stayed long enough to find out. Which I wouldn’t.
That was the plan.
The smart thing.
