Page 10 of Finding Gideon (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Malcolm

A low hum of voices drifted out as I pushed the door open, warm air rolling against the cooler evening behind us. Not packed, but full—like this place always had a handful of regulars, faces shifting with the seasons, stories changing, the bones of it staying the same.

Pints ‘n Pool had that almost-cabin feel, the wood paneling warm under the lights, booths lining the far wall, tables filling the center. The bar hugged the edge of the room near the stairs that led up to the rental rooms. Everything felt tended to, not pristine, but cared for. The kind of place that didn’t mind a little scuff as long as the beer stayed cold.

Gideon followed behind me, close enough that I caught the faint edge of soap and something sharper I couldn’t place yet. Not that I was trying to place it. Just… noticed.

Theo and Ronan were already at a booth, side by side like they’d been molded that way.

Theo caught sight of us and lifted his chin in greeting, forearm draped loosely over the back of the seat, the other hand curled around his pint.

Ronan glanced up with a grin like he’d been told a secret and was deciding when to share it.

“Malcolm! Thought you’d changed your mind,” Ronan called.

“Not yet,” I said, stepping aside for Gideon to follow. “I didn’t want to miss the chance to meet more folks.”

Gideon gave a nod—polite, not stiff, but careful. His whole posture read guest at somebody else’s family dinner , even though this wasn’t that.

We were halfway to the booth when Merle’s voice cut across the room like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. “Evening, Doc. Bringing company tonight, I see.”

Didn’t even have to look to know he was on his usual stool by the bar, boots hooked on the lower rung, half-empty glass sweating rings onto the polished surface.

Gideon flinched like the words hit skin. A soft flush started to climb the side of his neck, just below the curve of his ear.

“Evening, Merle,” I said evenly, steering us toward the booth before the man could decide to get creative.

“Don’t mind him,” Theo murmured as we reached the table, barely hiding his grin. “He’s been stationed there since electricity.”

Ronan huffed a laugh, already making room for us. “And he’s still not house-trained.”

I slid into the seat opposite them, the booth’s wooden edge warm under my arm. Gideon settled next to me, careful again, as if he hadn’t quite decided whether he belonged here yet.

Theo leaned in, elbows on the table. “First round’s on us. What’re you having?”

“Pale ale, whatever’s local.”

“Same,” Gideon said, quick, like the word had been wound up and waiting for release.

I picked up one of the menus—laminated, curling slightly at the corners, but clean. Somebody kept this place in good shape. Comfortable without trying too hard.

Out of the corner of my eye, Gideon shifted. That flush still lingered on his cheekbones, trailing up toward his ears. Could’ve been the warmth in here. Could’ve been nothing at all.

Still—I noticed.

Theo flagged down the bartender with two fingers lifted like a salute. “Two pale ales for the gentlemen,” he said, grin sharp, “and another for me before this one runs dry.”

“Make that two,” Ronan added, already tipping the last of his pint into his mouth.

The bartender nodded and moved off, leaving the four of us settling into something that almost felt easy. Almost. Gideon still sat like someone expecting to be quizzed at any second.

Ronan pointed at the menu in my hand. “Get the burger. Trust me. Best in the basin. Messy as hell, though. Wear dark colors.”

“Noted.” I glanced over at Gideon. “Are you good with burgers?”

He nodded once, jaw tight, eyes flicking to mine for the briefest second before returning to the menu like it might bite him if he didn’t keep it in check. “Burger’s fine.”

Theo leaned forward, eyes darting between us like he was watching a movie just starting to get good. “Merle giving you trouble already?”

I huffed a laugh. “He’s been giving me trouble since I set foot in town.”

Ronan made a sympathetic noise. “Yeah, that’s his love language. Interference and bad fishing stories.”

“Mostly interference,” Theo added.

Gideon cracked the smallest smile, barely there, but I caught the faintest softening behind his eyes. They turned warmer for a heartbeat before he pulled it back, like he hadn’t meant to let it slip.

Couldn’t say why I noticed that, but I did.

The bartender brought the beers over, foam curling over the rims slightly, catching the light like it wanted attention. We all reached for ours, the first sip cold, bitter, exactly right after a day that’d been longer than it needed to be.

Theo raised his glass slightly. “To small towns and big appetites.”

Ronan bumped his glass against Theo’s. “And to surviving Merle.”

I joined the soft clink of glass, half-smiling. Gideon lifted his too, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was part of the joke or the punchline.

“Food’ll help,” Ronan said, wiping his hand on a napkin. “They do these loaded fries too. Worth it if you don’t care about your arteries.”

“Sold,” I said.

Gideon’s voice was lower when he spoke. “I’ll get that.”

I turned toward him. “You don’t have to?—”

“I want to.” That look again, brief, like he’d accidentally handed me something of his he didn’t mean to share. “You’re letting me stay with you.”

That flush was still lingering on his neck.

I cleared my throat, tapping the menu once with the edge of my knuckle. “Alright. But I’m getting dessert.”

Theo grinned. “Man after my own heart.”

“Hands off,” Ronan said. “I saw him first.”

Their bickering rolled smooth and familiar between them, the kind of closeness that didn’t need second-guessing. Comfortable. Easy.

Couldn’t help wondering if that would ever get easier—with time, with the right person. Or if that kind of thing only belonged to other people.

The thought came out of nowhere, landing sharp before I could shove it aside.

Gideon caught me looking and blinked like he’d been somewhere else too.

The flush hadn’t gone anywhere.

Plates hit the table a little while later, carried by a server who looked like she could deadlift any one of us without blinking.

Burgers stacked tall, fries spilling over the sides, cheese melted recklessly down the edges.

The loaded fries Ronan had talked up arrived in a heap, buried under bacon and scallions, the whole thing shining like it should come with a warning label.

Theo whistled low. “Gorgeous.”

Ronan reached for one before the plate hit the wood. “Don’t fall in love with it. You’ll get your heart broken.”

I unwrapped my burger, already feeling grease slick my fingertips. “Looks like heartbreak’s worth it.”

Across from me, Gideon shifted, like he wasn’t sure where to put his elbows or his attention. He reached for a fry but stopped halfway, wiping his palm against his jeans first.

“You’re not allergic to any of this, are you?” Theo asked, chewing halfway through his sentence.

Gideon shook his head. “No. Just... not used to all this.”

“All this... food?” Ronan raised a brow.

“All this... people.” Gideon’s voice dropped near the end, soft, like maybe he hoped the fries would speak for him instead.

I didn't expect that. Thought maybe he’d just been tense because of Merle’s poking, or the way towns like this sometimes got too nosy about folks they didn’t know yet. But no—this was something else. Like he wasn’t just unused to here . He was unused to company .

“Small towns are quirky,” I said finally, offering a kind of truce. “Everyone’s either in your business, or they’re pretending they don’t notice you at all.”

“Or both at the same time,” Theo added, licking grease from his thumb.

Gideon let out a short breath, not quite a laugh, but it curled around the edges of one. His shoulders relaxed a notch, like someone letting out a breath they’d been holding for too long.

And I noticed that. Noticed the shape of him in the window light, the line of his jaw beneath that scruff, the way his hands curled carefully around the pint glass like he was afraid of breaking things he touched.

I didn't know what to do with that noticing, but it was there now, sharp and insistent at the edge of my thoughts.

Theo elbowed Ronan lightly. “Remember when you first moved in with me, and you were weird about the couch?”

“Wasn’t weird about it. I was cautious. That couch looked haunted.”

“It was haunted,” Theo agreed, pointing his fry like a weapon. “But that’s not the point. Point is—new things are weird until they’re not.”

“Good talk,” Ronan deadpanned.

Theo ignored him. “You’re good, Gideon. Take your time.”

For the first time since we’d sat down, Gideon looked directly at someone for longer than a blink. “Thanks.”

His gaze slid over to me next, just for a second, like maybe I was part of that too.

I didn't have a name for what that did to my chest, so I picked up my burger and took a bite like that solved something.

Spoiler: it didn’t.

The conversation drifted after that—small-town events, whose dog had done something ridiculous, Theo’s loud opinion on the best pie in the county—until he suddenly slapped the edge of the table, making the pint glasses jump. “Enough carbs. Let’s shoot something.”

The pool tables sat under their own set of overhead lamps, green felt glowing softly beneath the light. Cues leaned in a crooked row against the wall, and someone had left a scribbled chalk heart near the rack of balls, fading but still visible.

“Teams?” Ronan asked, already rolling his shoulders like this was a sanctioned event.

“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.”