Page 35 of Finding Gideon

Gideon shook his hand, eyes watering slightly. “Drew blood. Again. That bird has it out for me.”

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. Come here.”

He sighed but crossed the room anyway, cradling his hand. I reached for the first-aid box without taking my eyes off him.

“It’s nothing serious,” he insisted. “Barely a scratch.”

“Which is exactly how infections start. Sit.”

He dropped onto the stool beside me, reluctant but compliant. I reached for the first-aid box on the shelf near Sunny’s perch, flipping it open without taking my eyes off him. The nick wasn’t deep, but fresh enough to make him flinch when I dabbed on antiseptic.

“Breathe,” I murmured.

He blew out a slow breath through his nose, gaze fixed on my hands. A stray lock of hair slid toward his eyes, catching the light. Before I’d thought it through, my fingers brushed it back. I told myself it was so I could watch his reaction to the antiseptic, but my hand lingered a fraction too long for that to be the only reason. His eyes lifted to mine, and for a moment the air seemed to thin—sharp and aware, like stepping into sunlight after shade.

I looked away first, busying myself with the gauze. No reason to dwell on it. Not when it was nothing, when it couldn’t be anything.

“Parrot’s got good aim,” I said softly.

“Sunny’s a tyrant,” he muttered.

My mouth curved. “We’ll go with that.”

I focused on the bandage, not the way our knees were nearly touching or how his palm fit so easily against mine. Not the faint tremor in my fingertips or how I could feel the warmth of him even through my skin.

Our hands lingered together longer than they should have. Long enough for something in me to start mapping the shape of the moment, like I’d want to find my way back to it.

I pressed the adhesive down, smoothing the edges with my thumb before finally—finally—letting go.

“There. Protected from evil birds.”

His laugh was soft, barely there. “Thanks.”

I stood, needing the distance but hating it too. “Try not to get into any more fights with the patients, yeah?”

“No promises.”

I busied myself with returning the first-aid box to its place, aware of the faint warmth still lingering in my hands. When I glanced back, Gideon was already moving to check on the next boarding cage, head bent, the smallest smile on his face like the whole thing had been nothing.

Maybe it was.

I told myself it was.

But it made me think about how rarely I’d felt that kind of shift with anyone. Not since my ex-wife Angela, back when we were young and in love and thought that would be enough. And for a long time, it had been. What we had was real—steady, warm, the kind of love you can build a life on. Until I learned it wasn’t the whole of what I needed. Not for me. Not forever.

I didn’t feel jealous when I saw that post of Angela with her new guy last year. Maybe a flicker of surprise, but definitely not jealousy. It was the timing that got me. I’d just had one of the worst weeks I could remember, and then bam—there she was, wine glass in hand, some guy’s arm around her shoulders. She looked happy. Not smug or spiteful. Just… settled.

It hit harder than I expected. Not because I wanted her back—I didn’t—but because I realized I wasn’t sure what I wanted at all.

That was around the time Noah, one of my patients’ owners, set me up with his best friend Christian. I said “set me up,” but really it was more like he slid it into the conversation so smoothly I didn’t have a chance to say no.

I still laughed about it sometimes.

With Christian, there weren’t any sparks. No awkward tension. No follow-up texts. Just a weird night and a good story… and the two best friends are now a happily married couple.