Page 96 of Finding Gideon
Junie’s whole body bounced with her nod. “And I made him a collar. It’s sparkly and it has a little bell and it says his name in rainbow letters?—”
Toast sneezed.
Junie beamed. “See? He likes it.”
Behind her, Rachel pressed her knuckles to her lips. Nia had a hand over her heart like she couldn’t believe this was real.
Gideon smiled, the kind that reached all the way to his eyes. God, I loved that smile. I cleared my throat gently.
“The adoption paperwork is ready,” I told them.
Inside, the signing didn’t take long. I slid the papers across the counter, my fingers brushing Rachel’s when she reached for the pen. She blinked fast, pressing harder than she needed to as she scrawled her name. Nia’s hand was steadier, but her lips trembled around a smile as she slid the folder back to me. I tucked it away, heart thudding, knowing I’d just handed off something bigger than paper.
Back outside, Junie already had her backpack unzipped. She pulled out the collar she’d told us about, sparkles catching the light. “See? It’s got his name.” Her little fingers fumbled with the buckle, but she managed it. The bell gave a soft jingle, and Toast sneezed, making her laugh so hard her braids bounced.
Something in my chest cracked wide open.
“Want some help with the leash?” Rachel asked gently.
“I can do it,” Junie declared. She clipped it onto the ring herself.
Toast gave a happy wiggle, then pressed his side against her leg like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
Gideon bent his head, murmuring something I couldn’t quite catch—words meant only for the two of them. His hand cupped the dog’s scruff, and for a beat he stayed there, forehead resting against Toast’s. My throat tightened.
When Gideon finally pulled back, his eyes were wet. He smoothed his palm down Toast’s back one last time, then glanced at me. I crouched too, rubbing the dog’s fur.
“Be a good boy, Toast,” I whispered.
He wagged his tail like he’d understood.
The family headed down the path toward the gate. Junie’s body vibrated with joy.
Halfway down the path, she stopped short. She handed the leash off to Rachel, then sprinted toward us. First she threw herself into Gideon’s arms, then mine, hugging us both with all the force her tiny frame could manage.
“Thank you,” she whispered, breathless, before darting back again. Rachel passed the leash back, and Junie took it with a grin so bright it hurt to look at.
This time, the family didn’t stop. The three humans walked through the gate, Toast loping proudly at Junie’s side, his new collar jingling with every bounce.
The gate clicked shut behind them.
I felt it like a full-body exhale.
Gideon was still beside me, quiet. I looked at him. “You were great with her.”
“She made it easy,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, that kid—she sees him.”
“She sees you too, you know.” I nudged him as we started back toward the house. “Kind eyes, soft voice, sucker for misfits—what’s not to love?”
Gideon rolled his eyes, but he smiled. “Well, I do have a thing for grumpy vets.”
“I’m not grumpy.”
“You’re gruff.”
“I’m busy.”
He laughed. “You’re sweet. In a feral-cat-who-only-likes-one-person kind of way.”
