Page 22 of Finding Gideon
“She’s been favoring her back leg the past week,” Lila said. “And her coat’s looking duller than usual.”
I gave a short nod. “We’ll take a look.”
I crouched beside Lucinda, murmuring low while I reached for my kit. Gideon moved in beside her without needing to be told, one hand on her collar, the other soothing along her flank.
Lucinda huffed.
But she didn’t bolt.
Gideon didn’t grip or restrain—hegrounded. A quiet presence. The kind animals seemed to understand better than people did.
I worked while he kept Lucinda calm, and it struck me—not just the steadiness of his hands, but the calm in his posture. His quiet wasn’t empty; it was something the goat could settle into.
Lila stood outside the enclosure, arms folded, watching us work. Her gaze kept drifting to Gideon, and when I stepped back at last, brushing off my palms, she tipped her chin toward him.
“Not bad,” she muttered. “If you ever need work, I’ll steal you from the clinic.”
He looked over at her and answered, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
While I packed up my kit, Lila disappeared into the barn with a muttered, “Hold on.” By the time we’d closed the gate behind us and started toward the truck, she reappeared from the farmhouse, a small jar in hand.
She stopped in front of Gideon and pressed it into his palm—wrapped in gingham cloth and tied with twine.
He blinked at it.
“Apple butter,” she said. “Don’t let it go to waste.”
He nodded, murmured his thanks, and climbed into the passenger seat. I started the engine, gave Lila a quick wave, and eased us back onto the gravel drive.
“She doesn’t even give me a bottle of water,” I said once we’d rounded the bend.
Gideon’s mouth curved, slow and deliberate. “Maybe you’re not charming enough.”
I snorted. “I definitely am.”
He didn’t argue.
The gravel faded back to asphalt, and we fell into a silence that felt… easy. Not awkward, not tense. Just quiet. The kind of quiet that let the landscape fill in the spaces.
Fields slid by, green and gold and soft with wind. A few cows lifted their heads as we passed, as if mildly curious. A hawk circled overhead, its wings wide and slow in the sky.
Gideon still had the jar of apple butter in his lap, fingers curled loosely around it like he didn’t quite know what to do with it—but wasn’t ready to let it go, either.
I found myself glancing over before I meant to.
“You were good with her,” I said, my voice coming out lower than I wanted. Almost like I’d thought it instead of said it.
His gaze slid my way. “Who? The goat or Lila?”
I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. “Both.”
“Then I’ll take that as a win,” he said, a small smile tugging at his mouth before he turned back to the window.
Sunlight pooled across his profile, tracing the clean line of his jaw, catching on the dark stubble there. His mouth rested in that half-settled place between guarded and… something else. Something warmer, if he ever let it through.
That laugh of his from earlier still echoed in the back of my mind, curling around me in a way I couldn’t shake. I told myself I was just noticing. You can’t work around someone for a week without picking up details. But the truth was, it lodged deeper than that—right under the breastbone, like the start of a bruise. Unfamiliar, unwelcome, and yet I didn’t want to push it away.
I gripped the wheel tighter and fixed my eyes on the road. Safer there. Out of the corner of my vision, he was a solid presence beside me, filling the cab in a way that felt too big for the space.
