Page 12 of Finding Gideon
Malcolm cut her off gently, without looking up. “It’s okay. Let me work.”
His hands moved steadily, fast. He pressed a folded towel against the worst of the bleeding, his voice low and even as he tried to calm the shaking animal.
He didn’t see me at first—he was too focused. I stepped closer without thinking. “Here,” I said. “What do you need?”
Malcolm flicked his eyes up at me—one fast, sharp glance—and whatever he saw there must have been enough.
“Keep pressure here.” He guided my hands over the towel, adjusting my grip. “Firm, but gentle.”
I pressed down where he showed me. The dog whimpered, flinched, but didn’t pull away.
Malcolm reached for gauze and tape, swapping the towel for sterile pads without missing a beat. He kept talking—not to me, but to the dog, a steady stream of quiet reassurance.Good girl. Easy. You’re okay, sweetheart.
I held still, my knees starting to protest from leaning into the table, but I barely registered it. The smell of blood was sharp and metallic, clinging to the air.
Eventually, the bleeding slowed. Malcolm slid in an IV line, taped it down, and the dog’s breathing evened out—still shallow, but no longer scraping at the edge of panic.
“Good girl,” Malcolm murmured, stroking her head once before stripping off his gloves and tossing them in the biohazard bin. His scrubs were streaked with blood, dark against the pale green fabric.
I stepped back when he nodded, wiping my hands on the clean towel he passed me.
The woman let out a shaky breath that turned into something like a thank you. Malcolm reassured her the dog would pull through, then asked her to wait outside while he ran tests. She went reluctantly, still wringing her hands.
The second the door swung shut behind her, Malcolm exhaled—a quiet breath, more release than fatigue.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I—yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting that,” I said, flexing my fingers where the blood had dried tacky on my skin. He pointed me to the sink in the corner to wash up.
“Neither was I.” He leaned back against the counter. “Jess was supposed to be here this morning.”
“Your assistant?”
He nodded. “Called right before this came in. Her mom had a bad fall. She’s flying out to Colorado to help. Could be gone for a while.”
A while. Vague enough that it could mean next week… or months from now.
“That’s rough,” I said.
“She’s doing what she needs to do,” he said, though I caught the faint pinch between his brows. “But it leaves me short-staffed.”
I glanced at the blood-speckled gauze in the waste bin, then at the still-damp towel hanging over the sink. “It looks like you managed fine.”
His mouth twitched—not quite a smile. “Fine’s one thing. Day in, day out, by myself? That’s different.” He hesitated, then added, "You were level-headed just now. A lot of people freeze when they see that much blood.”
I shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention. “It didn't seem like the time to freeze.”
“That’s exactly my point.” He pushed off the counter, closing the space between us. “I need someone who can keep their head. Someone who’s not afraid to mop floors one minute and hold a vein for an IV the next. There’s cleaning, stocking, errands. Feeding the boarders. Room and board comes with it, plus pay.” He named a number—better than I’d expected. “Interested?”
The offer landed heavier than it should have, tugging at something low in my chest. It wasn’t just money. Or just a place to sleep. A reason to stay put for more than a night.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked. “I’m not a vet tech.”
“I’m not looking for one,” he said simply. “I’m looking for someone I can trust. And I think you’ve got good instincts.”
Something in his voice—steady, certain—made it hard to look away. Relief, gratitude, and something else tangled together in my chest.
I nodded once. “Yeah. Okay.”
