Page 48 of Finding Gideon
“I’ll do my best,” I said, a corner of my mouth lifting despite myself. And maybe that was the real reason I’d come—to be reminded that I wasn’t navigating this alone.
Christian rose too. “You’re always welcome. But next time, bring beer. Scones are a one-time grace.”
“Bring cookies,” Noah countered.
I was still smiling when I reached the door.
“Hey, Malcolm?” Christian called.
I turned.
“You don’t have to name it yet,” he said. “You just have to let yourself feel it.”
That stayed with me. All the way to my truck. All the way back to Gideon.
Chapter 16
Gideon
Two rings in, I snatched up the phone, pinched it between my cheek and shoulder, and kept scribbling notes on a sticky pad.
“Fluff & Tuff Animal Clinic. This is Gideon. How can I help?”
Mrs. Norbury’s voice crackled through the receiver, halfway frantic about her Labrador’s mysterious rash, which—according to her—had appeared “like stigmata” after the full moon. I promised her a midday appointment and wrote “itchy moon dog” on the calendar—not because it was accurate, but because “Labrador with possible lunar curse” didn’t fit in the box.
When I hung up, I glanced at the clock on the wall. 10:03. Still no Malcolm.
He’d left a note on the counter this morning. Just a few words in his quick, slightly left-leaning handwriting:
Will be back soon. —M.
Nothing else.
There wasn’t any explanation, smiley face, or clue about where he’d gone or why. It wasn’t like him to be that vague.
Not that he owed me details. But still.
I ran a hand through my hair and went back to reorganizing the front desk drawer for the third time that morning.Paperclips. Stamps. Random key with no known lock. Half-dead pens I kept testing and then—out of habit—putting right back.
The glass door swung open, and even before I looked up, I knew it was him because of that easy, grounded way Malcolm carried himself.
I let my pen hover over the desk pad for a beat, the familiar hum of awareness settling under my skin.
When I glanced up, he was already inside, the door closing quietly behind him
“Hey,” he said, voice steady.
I searched his face before answering, looking for any sign of where his head was after last night—after that kiss. Whether he’d thought about it as much as I had.
“Hey,” I said back.
The quiet that followed wasn’t exactly awkward, but it was heavy enough to notice.
Malcolm stepped forward, unhurried, his hand brushing over a stack of appointment cards I’d lined up on the counter like he needed something to touch.
“I went to see Noah and Christian—you’ve heard me talk about them,” he said. “I needed to think. And I figured if I tried to do that with you still in the house, I’d end up saying something I hadn't thought through yet.”
The words landed soft but straight to the chest.
