Page 30 of Finding Gideon

Gideon glanced at me.

It wasn’t a big look. Not some soft movie gaze full of meaning. Just a flick of his eyes, down and back, like he was checking to see if I knew what I’d just done. If Imeantit.

Hell of a thing to realize I didn’t know either.

“Alright, married life’s got one game on us,” Malcolm said, eyeing the scoreboard with mock-seriousness. “Time to ruin their winning streak.”

I stepped up to the table, cue in hand, and forced my mouth into a smirk. “Let’s make it interesting, then.”

Theo perked up. “What, like bets?”

“Nah,” I said. “Bragging rights.”

“Already have those,” he fired back, lining up his shot. “You’re playing with a ringer.”

I looked at Gideon again—he was chalking his cue, rolling it between his palms, focused on the felt like it held his secrets.

Didn’t know what to do with the ache of it.

“C’mon, Doc,” Theo goaded, “don’t let us down.”

Gideon lifted his head, gave a small, lopsided smile that shouldn’t have hit me the way it did. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And I swear—if I wasn’t careful—I was going to start wondering what else I wanted him showing up for.

We lost by one point.

Barely. A lucky shot from Theo that kissed two cushions like he planned it, though from his expression, I knew better. Ronan threw both fists in the air like they’d won a championship.

“Iknewmarried life had perks,” Ronan crowed. “Unbeatable teamwork.”

“Accidental teamwork,” Gideon murmured under his breath, but the corners of his mouth twitched, like he didn’t mind the loss much.

He didn’t seem to be carrying the weight he had earlier. That eased something in me. Seeing him this way—shoulders looser, eyes lighter, as if the bad days didn’t get to own him all the time—felt good.

When we were shrugging into jackets and saying goodbyes, Theo clapped me on the back. “Good game, Doc.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Next time we’re rematching sober.”

Merle, still propping up the bar, gave me a wink on our way out, the kind of wink old men used when they thought they knew something you didn’t.

Outside, the street had quieted down. Just the soft hum of a town settling into itself late at night. My boots hit the gravel alongside Gideon’s, both of us walking in step without trying.

Neither of us said anything. The quiet wasn’t empty—it was weighted. Not heavy, exactly, but tuned to something I couldn’t quite name. Every step toward the truck still carried the ghost of his shoulder under my arm, like my body had filed the shape of it underimportantwithout my permission.

I caught the faint sound of his breath over mine, steady and even, and wondered if he was thinking about it too—or if that was just me, trying to read meaning where there wasn’t any.

By the time we reached the steps, I’d told myself a hundred times to let it go. Pretend it was nothing. A friendly thing. But every time I tried, the memory of how he didn’t pull away threaded its way back in, quiet but insistent.

I unlocked the front, Gideon behind me, close enough to catch the shift of his breath when I swung the door open.

I stopped by his door, hand still holding my keys, suddenly very aware of how the quiet between us had changed.

Should’ve just said goodnight. Should’ve done the normal thing. But I stood there like a fool, wanting?—

Didn’t even knowwhatI wanted. Just knowing the part of me that had draped an arm over his shoulders and forgot to breathe… was still standing there waiting to finish the thought.

Gideon opened his door halfway, glanced at me over his shoulder. “Night, Doc.”