Page 94 of Finding Gideon
“No, you don’t.”
I peeked at him. “Fine. Itolerateyou. Barely.”
Malcolm laughed, climbed back into bed, and dragged me against his chest, my back pressed to his front. His arms locked around me like he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.
God help me, I didn’t want him to.
“Are you okay?” he asked after a beat. His voice was quieter now, thoughtful.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think… I’m more than okay.”
“You were perfect,” he said, nose brushing behind my ear. “Brave, open, so damn sexy I almost forgot my name.”
“You didn’t seem to forget your vocabulary,” I muttered, cheeks burning. “Who knew the good doctor had such a filthy mouth?”
He chuckled, low and warm. “I’m a man of many talents.”
I shifted to face him. “Speaking of… Areyouokay?”
“Yeah.” He traced a finger along my jaw. “I never expectedthis. You. Us. But now that it’s real? I’m not letting it go.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Everything unsaid swelled in the silence between heartbeats.
Then Malcolm, the smug bastard, added, “And just so we’re clear… Next time, when you top, you better not go easy on me.”
“Oh? You want it rough, huh?”
“Surprise me.”
I grinned. “Careful, Doc. I’m younger, hungrier, and still have something to prove.”
Malcolm leaned in, kissed me slowly. “Prove it tomorrow. Tonight, we cuddle.”
We did. He pulled the blankets over us, legs tangled together, one of his hands flat on my back, the other holding mine under the covers.
And in the quiet that followed, I realized something.
I wasn’t running anymore.
I’d found someone who saw me—every awkward, terrified, messy part—and didn’t flinch. A man who’d let me come apart in his arms and still held me after.
Maybe it didn’t have to be a fantasy.
Maybe this was what healing looked like.
And maybe—just maybe—it started with letting someone stay.
Chapter 30
Malcolm
I spotted them before Toast did—Junie’s skinny legs pumping across the grass, her arms flailing like she was trying to fly. Her moms followed behind at a more reasonable pace, but Junie was a comet, a blur of excitement and sunshine aimed directly at the dog currently snoozing.
Toastie’s ears twitched. Then his head came up.
Junie shouted his name, and that dog scrambled upright like his three legs were powered by rocket fuel. By the time she reached him, Toastie was already wiggling all over, whining loud enough to wake the dead. She dropped to her knees in the grass, arms around his neck, cheek pressed into his fur like it had been a hundred years instead of just a week.
