Page 29 of Finding Gideon

“Us versus them,” Theo declared, pointing between himself and Ronan, then flicking a finger at me and Gideon like we were the challengers. “Married life versus—whatever’s going on over there.”

That got a low laugh out of me. “Fair warning—I’m garbage at this.”

“You’re not garbage,” Gideon said, surprising me. His voice wasn’t loud, but it landed firmly. “You just need a good partner.”

First time I’d heard that note in him—confidence, not just surviving the conversation but leaning into it. Something uncoiled in my chest.

We split into sides, racked the balls, flipped for break. Ronan won. He cracked them open with a sharp, echoing break that sent the cue ball spinning off the edge cushion, a couple solids rolling into the pockets like they’d been planning it all along.

I chalked my cue, eyeing the spread. “We’re going to embarrass ourselves.”

Gideon shrugged like he didn’t mind, lining up behind me as I took the next shot. “Embarrassing’s better than boring.”

Theo pointed at him with exaggerated approval. “See? I like this one.”

The game started easy, light banter trading across the felt, occasional cheers when someone sunk a ball by accident or sheer luck. Ronan played sharp, Theo was inconsistent but hilarious about it, narrating every shot like he was announcing an Olympic final.

“Watch this—physics is about to cry,” Theo said, sending a stripe bouncing wildly into two cushions before, somehow, dropping into the side pocket. “Genius or chaos? You decide.”

By the third round, Gideon had found his rhythm—easy motions, smooth aim, a quiet kind of focus that kept catching my eye when I wasn’t busy losing miserably on angles. His mouth tugged up at one corner when Theo missed an easy shot, and damn if that smile didn’t feel like a prize in itself.

He didn’t look sad anymore. Not like he had this morning, lost somewhere in the weight of whatever memory had pressed him down.

And maybe that’s why I was here. Not just for cheap beer and decent burgers—but because seeing him like this felt like pulling someone out of a shadow into something better.

“We’re catching up,” I said, lining up a shot I absolutely wasn’t going to make.

“Got your back,” Gideon murmured, and his voice went straight to the middle of me, stable as gravity.

Theo groaned when Gideon sank two in a row. “Whoisthis guy?”

“Dibs if Malcolm doesn’t keep him,” Ronan said mildly.

I barked a laugh, nudging Gideon’s shoulder with mine. “Better get used to it.”

Without thinking, I hooked an arm across his shoulders, all easy, like guys did when they were messing around in good fun, taking the win.

Except the second I touched him, something in me recalibrated.

Gideon stiffened—but then… softened. Stayed there, actually. Leaned into it, barely, but enough for me to feel it through my whole arm.

Should’ve been a joke. Just messing around. But now I was wondering why he fit like that. Why it felt so damn easy.

Didn’t move. Didn’t want to.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

I should’ve let go.

Any normal person with basic social skills would’ve let go by now, gone back to the game, laughed it off like nothing happened. Instead, my hand stayed draped across his shoulders like I’d forgotten how arms worked.

Gideon shifted—not away. Just enough so his side lined up against mine. Not pressing. Not leaning. Justthere.

The crack of a cue ball against the rack made me blink. Ronan was breaking again for a new game like nothing had shifted under the floorboards. Theo was narrating his own failure before it even happened.

“And here we witness a master of mediocrity—watch closely, I’ll miss by a mile.”

I dragged my arm back to my side, careful, casual. No sudden movements. Like if I played it cool, the thunder in my chest would give me a break.