Page 43 of Finding Gideon
He swallowed.
“You tried your best to save his life. That counts for something.”
“Does it?” he whispered.
I didn’t plan the next moment. My body moved before my mind caught up—before I could question why I was about to cross a line I’d never crossed with a man. But this wasn’t about desire. It wasn’t about anything physical at all. It was about giving him something words couldn’t hold.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his temple to say as clearly as I could without speaking:Yes. You matter.
His shoulders trembled under the contact, then eased, the tension unspooling enough for him to lean into the space between us. He didn’t collapse. He simply… let himself rest there.
And I stayed with him, not rushing, not pulling away. We stayed until the ache in the air softened into something quieter. Something almost bearable.
Chapter 14
Gideon
A week slid by, thick with silence. Not the brittle kind that cracks under pressure, but something quieter. Patient. Malcolm didn’t hover, didn’t prod. He just moved through the house like a steady rhythm I couldn’t block out if I tried—his footsteps in the hall, the scrape of a mug against the counter, the occasional soft hum when he thought no one was listening.
I noticed all of it.
Gratitude sat in my throat, half-formed. The weight of that phone call with my parents hadn’t eased. It sat behind my ribs, dull and bruising, the edges blunted by time but no less present.
The last person who’d seen me cry was Garrett. And he was gone.
Some days, I could breathe without feeling like my chest was caving in—but even that carried its own kind of guilt. Like letting the ache ease meant I was leaving him behind.
I was rinsing out a coffee mug when the clinic doorbells chimed, followed by a quiet, purposeful shuffle and the whisper of nails on tile.
Malcolm’s voice came a beat later. “Zuri?”
I turned, still holding the mug.
The woman stepping into the clinic didn’t look like she planned to linger. Her locs were wrapped in a patterned scarf, her makeup subtle—confident without being flashy. She carried a medium-sized dog protectively in her arms, lean and wiry, mottled brown and white fur broken by a single hind leg where there should’ve been two. One ear stood up, the other folded halfway, like it couldn’t make up its mind. The dog didn’t bark or growl, just kept its gaze moving over the room like it was mapping every exit. Something in that steady, guarded stare pulled tight in my gut—like it knew what it meant to lose something and keep going anyway.
Malcolm stepped forward, already pulling gloves on. “That’s not Dedan,” he said, nodding toward the dog. “Did you pick up a stray on the way here?”
She gave him a look that saidobviously. “I was driving past Miller’s Point and saw him limping near the drainage ditch. Thought maybe he’d been hit, but turns out he’s been walking like this for a while.”
I came closer, mug forgotten.
“Zuri, this is Gideon,” Malcolm said, glancing between us. “Gideon, meet Zuri. She boards her dog with us sometimes.”
Zuri shifted the dog in her arms, steadying him with care. “Like the Black Panther movie?” I asked before I could stop myself.
That earned me a smile. “Not quite. Zuri’s Swahili for ‘beautiful.’ My grandmother chose it for me. I was born in Nairobi, but I grew up here—so I like to think I got the best of both worlds.”
The dog gave a twitch and she soothed him with a quiet murmur in a language I didn’t know. It worked. He settled again.
“You didn’t take him to Serenity?” Malcolm asked.
Zuri raised an eyebrow. “They’re packed. I called ahead. And he needs a vet, not a holding pen. I thought I’d bring him in, get him checked out. I’ll cover the visit.”
Malcolm gave a small grunt of approval and gestured to one of the exam rooms. “Let’s get him checked out.”
She nodded and handed the dog over carefully. Malcolm took him with the kind of care you’d give something breakable.
I lingered near the doorway. Malcolm looked up. “Come on in—you can help me get him settled.”
