Page 14 of Finding Gideon
“Do you always frown like that when you type?” he asked without looking over. “Or is it just me?”
I didn’t look up. “You’re rearranging the wound-care kits like your life depends on it. Maybe I’m concerned.”
He gave a low laugh—something bright and unguarded that filled the quiet like sunlight through a crack in the blinds. “Gotta start somewhere, right?”
When I did glance over, I noticed he’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows at some point, revealing forearms inked in clean,dark lines. The kind of tattoos that drew the eye, sharp against his skin. He reached for a bin of surgical packs on the high shelf, stretching without hesitation, muscles shifting beneath that too-thin shirt.
No point in staring. The man was pulling his weight—that was all. Not everyone could walk into a place like this mid-crisis and keep their head on straight. He could’ve panicked. Asked a million questions. Froze up. Instead, he’d stayed calm, rolled up his sleeves, and helped.
That kind of steadiness—it was rare. Useful.
“Hey,” Gideon said, nodding toward the stainless-steel exam table. “Want me to disinfect it now or before the next patient?”
“Now. Before anything dries.”
He stepped past me to grab the spray bottle from the counter, his arm brushing mine. Just skin. Just heat. A two-second contact that shouldn’t have registered.
But it did.
My fingers paused on the keyboard before I made myself keep typing.
Gideon didn’t notice. He was already spraying the table, the faint citrus scent of the cleaner drifting between us, wiping the surface in even, deliberate strokes. I shifted in my seat, telling myself the lingering weight of that contact meant nothing. Twice. Three times.
“You okay?” Gideon asked, glancing over his shoulder.
“Fine.” The word came out tight. “Just thinking through tomorrow’s cases.”
He nodded like that made sense and moved on to the scale, disinfecting the metal platform with the same quiet thoroughness.
My phone buzzed on the counter. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen.
“Dr. Malcolm Jones.”
“Hey, it’s Jess,” her voice came warm and familiar. “Sorry, calling from my mom’s landline—my cell’s been acting up. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just checking in. My mom’s doing better, but it’ll still be a few more weeks. Sorry to leave you hanging.”
“You’re not. Family comes first.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gideon slow his movements, keeping his distance without leaving the room.
“Clinic surviving without me?” Jess asked, teasing.
“We are,” I said honestly. “It’s different without you, but we’re managing.”
“We?”
“I found someone to help out.”
“Really?” She sounded surprised. “You never take help. Is he decent?”
I glanced at Gideon. He caught my eye for a second and offered a small smile—unsure, but trying.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “He’s figuring it out.”
“Well, don’t get too attached. I’m not ready to be replaced just yet.”
