Page 34 of Finding Gideon

Get through the next few weeks, help out at the clinic until Jess got back, then move on before I started mistaking comfort for permanence.

Except… permanence was a tricky thing. You didn’t always notice when it snuck up on you.

Like now, with the sun warm on my shoulders, Malcolm’s laugh still in my ears, and a dog pressed so fully into my life that he already felt like he’d been here forever.

Dennis barreled into my leg again, snapping me back to the yard. He darted away, ears flapping, and Malcolm took off after him with a low “You little menace.”

I laughed, meeting him halfway to trap Dennis between us. Malcolm reached in at the same moment I did, our hands brushing before Dennis twisted free with the rope. That tiny contact landed somewhere deep, sparking heat I had no frame of reference for.

Malcolm’s phone buzzed from the porch rail. He shot me a rueful look and went to grab it, murmuring into the receiver as Dennis dropped the rope at my feet.

I bent to scratch his head, watching Malcolm’s back as he paced a slow line in the grass. I told myself to look away. I didn’t.

Chapter 11

Malcolm

Meds were sorted into neat rows, labels all facing forward like a parade of tiny soldiers. Gideon crouched near the bottom shelf, restocking the flea treatments and muttering something under his breath about alphabetical order. His hair had fallen into his eyes again. He didn’t notice, too focused, one hand braced against the cupboard door for balance while the other reached behind him blindly for the next box.

I leaned in the doorway of the treatment room, arms crossed, watching him crouch in front of the meds shelf.

For too damn long.

“Jesus,” I muttered, peeling myself away from the doorframe like it had betrayed me.You’re staring. Again.

He hadn’t noticed. Or if he had, he was pretending not to—which, given how often I caught myself doing this lately, was probably for the best.

“Did you know goats have rectangular pupils?” I said.

He glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “Is this a pop quiz?”

“Random trivia,” I said, stepping in to grab a clipboard from the side counter, not because it needed checking but because I needed something to look at that wasn’t his forearms or the wayhis shirt clung to his back when he stretched. “Helps them see almost 360 degrees. Good for spotting predators.”

“Huh.” He slid another box into place. “So… nature’s security cameras.”

I made a noncommittal sound, flipping the chart just for something to do.

He smirked. “What else you got?”

“Penguins propose with pebbles. Sloths can hold their breath longer than dolphins. And a shrimp’s heart is in its head.”

“That last one sounds like it should be a metaphor,” he said, sliding another box into place.

Before I could answer, the phone rang from reception. “I’ll get that.”

He nodded, already back to stacking.

I left him in the treatment room and crossed the short hall to reception. The front windows glared with midday light, the scent of antiseptic trailing faintly behind me.

By the time I’d wrapped up the call with Mrs. Dwyer about her cat’s follow-up appointment, I could hear Gideon’s voice somewhere down the hall—low and coaxing. He must’ve moved to the boarding room.

Then came a squawk, sharp enough to cut through the walls, followed by a string of mumbled curses.

My body moved on autopilot—away from the reception desk, down the hall, toward the scent of seed and feathers.

Inside, Gideon was standing just beyond Sunny’s cage, his shoulders tense, one hand cradled in the other. The yellow parrot sat puffed up on his perch, head cocked, eyes bright and unrepentant—like he’d just defended his honor and won.

“Are you okay?”