Page 56 of Finding Gideon
Junie and her moms had gone—the little girl with her glitter-pink prosthetic, the women whose laughter had left the backyard feeling brighter than the sun overhead.
Inside, Dennis had sprawled on the couch like it was his birthright, one paw dangling over the edge. His breathing was slow and deep, the picture of a dog who had wrung every drop of adventure out of the day.
I slid my arms under him, careful not to jostle him too much. He gave a drowsy huff but didn’t protest, his head lolling against my chest as I carried him to his bed in the corner. By the time I set him down, he was already snoring again.
Back at the clinic, Toast was curled in his recovery crate, belly full, paw twitching in some soft dream. I’d left him there less than an hour ago, but it still felt like he was here, taking up space in the quiet between my thoughts.
When I came back into the living room, Malcolm was on the couch, the TV dark, the room lit only by the soft glow from a lamp in the corner. I sat beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his leg against mine, our thighs brushing in that casual, accidental way that never really felt accidental.
“Most kids, hell, most adults would have looked past a dog like Toast,” I said finally. “But Junie saw what he did have, not what he didn’t. She didn’t pity him. She just loved him. As if every missing part only made him more worthy.”
Malcolm didn’t say anything, but I didn’t need him to.
“There’s something about that.” I went on. “About being seen like that. No disclaimers. No asterisks.”
I kept my gaze fixed on a spot across the room.
“Not being wanted,” I said slowly, “that shapes you. You don’t even realize it’s happening. You start choosing yourself less and less over time. Because why would you pick someone no one else ever has?”
Malcolm turned toward me. “Gideon…”
“It is not just about being picked last,” I said before I lost the nerve. “Though that happened—sports, school projects, teams, whatever. I wasn’t bad. I just wasn’t… memorable. Garrett could walk into a room and the whole place would rearrange itself around him. I was used to fading into the corners.”
My voice caught, but I did not back away from the truth of it. “And then after he died, it was like I disappeared even more. I didn’t have him to tether me anymore. No spotlight to stand beside. Just this strange empty space and I didn’t know who I was if I wasn’t someone’s twin.”
Malcolm was quiet for a long moment, and the silence made me feel stupid, exposed—until he finally said, “You know what’s strange? I used to think I wanted everything I had.”
That made me look at him.
“I chased it hard,” he said. “The apartment with the views. The suits. The job that kept me up at night. I thought if I had it all, I’d be someone. I got there. And it was like drinking sand.”
“Dry?” I asked.
His lips curved faintly. “Yeah. Dry. And not worth the sprint.”
He ran a hand over his jaw, like he was working the thought through before letting it loose. “I think… I wanted things that made sense on paper. But wanting something real? That is harder. Because it means figuring out what feels right, not what looks right.”
A slow warmth unfurled in my chest. “So what feels right now?”
Malcolm didn’t smile. He just looked at me—a long, searching look.
“This. You. Sitting here. Saying things I probably wouldn’t have said if you hadn’t gone first, letting me know we could both be real tonight.”
For a second, I forgot how to breathe. Not because of what he said, but because of the way he said it—like my words had shifted something in him. Like maybe I hadn’t spilled my guts into the quiet for nothing.
The air between us felt heavier and lighter at the same time, like the start of a summer storm you almost hope will break.
“You don’t even know me,” I said, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be. “Well, not really.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I know enough to want to know more.”
And there it was again—that heat behind my ribs. That damn flicker that kept showing up around him. I hated how good it felt. How easy it was to let it in. How impossible it was to let it go.
Malcolm’s gaze stayed on mine, anchored and present in a way that made it hard to look away. This silence wasn’t accidental. We were both here in it, together, because we wanted to be.
I shifted slightly, turning toward him. My knee brushed his thigh.
“I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never had much of a plan. Just… hung close to Garrett and hoped I’d figure myself out along the way.”
