Page 45 of Finding Gideon

“Settling in in the kennels. He let me feed him earlier.” Words couldn’t adequately express how happy I felt when the little guy took his first, tentative bite.

Malcolm’s mouth curved slightly. “He needs someone patient and you’re the perfect person to do the job.”

That landed heavier than it should have, like we weren’t talking about the dog anymore.

“Guess I can do that.”

A beat passed, filled with the faint rustle of grass in the breeze.

“You came out here to babysit me?” I asked.

He gave me that slow, level look of his. “I’m just checking in. Seeing if you need anything.”

“I’m good,” I said too hastily, the words too quick to sound believable. I hesitated, rubbing my palms together once before letting them fall still. “I never said thank you.”

His gaze flicked over my face, searching, as if trying to read what I wasn’t saying yet. “For what?”

“That day with my parents.” My voice caught, and I glanced down at the ground between us. Dennis’s tail thumped lazily in the dirt somewhere off to the side. “I wanted to say it before, but the words felt… raw. Or maybe I did try, I don’t even know anymore. Either way—I felt vulnerable as hell.”

Malcolm’s head tilted, his eyes on me. “Look at me, Gideon.”

I dragged my gaze up to meet his, my pulse kicking in a little too hard.

“You don’t owe me your gratitude.” His tone was gentle, but there was something unshakable beneath it.

“But I fell apart.”

“You weren’t falling apart,” he said. His voice had dropped lower, quieter. “You were grieving.”

The truth of it found its mark. My chest tightened, a knot loosening somewhere deep inside. “Garrett’s the only person who ever saw me cry before that. It’s been a long time since I let anyone see… too much.”

“You needed someone to stand with you,” Malcolm said, holding my gaze. “I’m glad I was the one there.” A slow, unfamiliar ache uncurled in my chest, making it hard to keep looking at him without giving too much away. My throat felt dry.

“You got quiet,” he murmured after a beat, his eyes narrowing slightly, not in judgment but in concern. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” My voice came out softer than I expected. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

And then… he stepped in, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, catch the deeper note of his cologne under the clean scent of his skin.

“I’ve been worried since that day,” he said, low. “I didn’t know if you were shutting me out or just… protecting yourself.”

“I don’t always know the difference.”

Something passed between us then—not a look, not exactly. More like an understanding that settled without needing words.

His hand lifted, slow enough to give me time to back away. I didn’t. His thumb brushed the side of my jaw, the warmth of his touch sending a pulse through me that seemed to echo in every inch of my skin.

He drew me in, and my feet obeyed. His lips met mine in the softest press—slow, tender, the moment the world tilts and you realize you’ve been moving toward this all along.

The stubble along his jaw grazed my skin. His breath mingled with mine, warm against my mouth. I could taste him—faint mint, the ghost of coffee—and something I didn’t have a name for excepthim.

I felt myself leaning in before I realized it. Just enough that the angle shifted, our lips sliding together again. His other hand came up, threading into my hair, anchoring me in place without forcing me closer.

The kiss deepened slowly, every movement deliberate. It wasn’t just about the contact—it was aboutfeelingit, letting it register fully: the press of his mouth, the heat between us, the slow drag of his thumb under my jaw.

The yard faded. The cool air, the faint hum of insects, the occasional shuffle of Dennis in the grass—all of it fell away until there was only this: the uneven rhythm of our breaths and the solid weight of him standing close enough that my chest could feel his.

When his mouth parted slightly against mine, it was like the moment a locked door finally gave way. I welcomed him in without thinking, the slow slide of his tongue against mine drawing a low, unfamiliar ache somewhere deep in my chest.