Page 49 of Finding Gideon
“So,” I asked, “did it help?”
His gaze held mine. “Yeah. I think it did.”
Dennis let out a low groan from his crate, but neither of us moved. It felt like we were standing in the middle of a question we weren’t ready to answer—at least not yet.
Malcolm shifted closer. Not touching me. Just closing the space. “About last night…”
“You kissed me,” I said. “Or I kissed you. Mutual kissing occurred.”
He huffed out something halfway between a breath and a laugh. “Yeah. That happened.”
“Are you regretting it?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he leaned in—not all the way, but enough that I could smell the faint clean scent of his soap and notice a tiny nick on his jaw, like he’d shaved in a hurry. His hand settled near mine on the counter.
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not regretting. Just… figuring things out.”
I nodded. “Fair.”
He tilted his head. “You?”
“Not regretting it either.”
Something eased between us then. I couldn’t name it. But it loosened something in my chest I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding onto since Garrett’s accident. Since that phone call I’d with my parents. Since everything.
The way Malcolm looked at me made my chest ache. Not like I was something broken to mend, but like I was something worth knowing.
“Gideon,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know what this is yet. But I want to give it room. Giveusroom. If that’s something you want, too.”
I didn’t speak right away.
My hand brushed his where it rested near mine, and I let it stay there
“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
We ate dinner in silence—the kind that felt easy, not tense. He’d made grilled cheese and tomato soup, the bread a little toocrispy at the edges, the soup heavy on the pepper. I didn’t mind. He wasn’t looking for compliments; it felt more like he needed something to keep his hands busy.
Now the dishes were stacked to dry, and the kitchen was dim except for the warm glow above the stove. Dennis was sprawled on the multi-colored rug in the living room, his breath rising and falling with the contentment of a life well-fed and well-loved.
I shifted in my chair, not quite fidgeting, but close. “So... what happens now?”
Malcolm’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Hell if I know.”
I almost laughed, but it caught somewhere in my throat.
He pushed away from the counter and came to stand across from me, hands resting lightly on the table’s edge.
I swallowed deeply. “I need to say something.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve never had a crush on someone,” I said quietly. “Never wanted to hold someone’s hand, or kiss anyone, or... whatever people do.”
Malcolm’s expression softened, his head tilting as if to make more room for my words.
“When Garrett was alive, I didn’t notice, and I didn’t care. And I never thought I was missing out on anything.” My throat tightened. “I thought… maybe I was built differently. When he died, I stopped feeling anything at all… well, except for loving Mom and Dad.”
