Page 78 of Finding Gideon
Probably.
Still, something low in my stomach flipped because this mattered so damn much.
I looked at Gideon again.
His mouth moved as he read, silent but animated—like he was carrying on a private conversation with the page. Every now and then, his grin tugged crooked, nose scrunching as if the words had surprised him. One hand shifted to scratch behind Dennis’s ears, and the dog gave a blissed-out groan before rolling to his back, paws twitching in his sleep. It was nothing—an ordinary moment—but it felt like a fault line opening inside me, subtle and seismic all at once.
That was love. That twist in my gut, that rush of fierce and tender all tangled together. I loved him.
I hadn’t said it out loud. Not even to myself until now.
But it was true.
And now I wanted—needed—my family to know this man. This gorgeous, stubborn man. This man with the softest heart. This man who’d walked into my clinic and flipped my whole world on its axis with a stray dog and a smile I still hadn’t recovered from.
Careful not to jostle him, I leaned down and lifted Dennis, his warm weight heavy and trusting in my arms. He gave a disgruntled huff before I set him in his bed. Then I crossed back and sat down where he’d been, close enough that my leg brushed Gideon’s.
He lowered the book, marking his place with a finger. “Hey.”
I reached for his wrist, thumb brushing the pulse there. “I’m calling my folks.”
His head tilted, eyes narrowing. “Like… now?”
“Yeah.”
He wet his lips, considering. “Do you want privacy or…?”
“Do you want to say hi?” The words came softer than I meant them to.
For a second he just stared. “Say hi like—hi, I’m the guy you’re dating, your boyfriend?”
A corner of my mouth curved. “Say hi like—hi, I exist, and your son’s really into me.”
He made a strangled sound, glancing at the phone like it might bite him. “That’s not helping, Doc.”
A laugh broke out of me, quick and helpless. God, he looked horrified and beautiful all at once.
“It’s just a hi.” My hand slid to his thigh, grounding us both. “No pressure. No speech. Just… be you.”
Gideon’s chest rose, fell. Then he gave a shaky little nod. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.” He shifted, half-turning on the couch like he wasn’t sure whether to lean in or bolt. Finally, he settled at my side but angled just out of the camera’s view, fingers twined with mine.
I hit the button. The call connected with a lag, then the screen filled with my mother’s face, with Camille perched on the arm of her chair and Dad in the background.
“Hi, baby,” Mom said, her smile already warm.
Camile eyed Mom with mock anger. “I thought I was your baby, Ma.”
“Behave yourself, Cam,” Mom admonished playfully. “Both of you are my babies.”
My sister pouted. But it was all in jest.
Beside me, Gideon let out a breathy laugh I doubted they could hear, nerves bleeding through even in that small sound.
Dad snorted. “Would you two give Mal a chance to get a word in?”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, half-laughing. “Hi, Ma. Hi, Dad. Hi, Camille.”
“Hi, big brother.” Camille’s grin was sly. “You look smug. Don’t tell me it’s because you finally learned how to cook something besides scrambled eggs.”
