Page 12 of Finding Gideon (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Gideon

Grass clung to my toes. Somewhere behind me, a bird called out—sharp, then gone. The dog crouched a few feet away, front legs splayed, haunches wiggling like he’d never known a bad day in his life. A knotted rope hung from his jaws, drool darkening the twisted fibers.

“Are you ready for this, Sir Sniffsalot?” I raised an eyebrow and gave the rope a small tug.

He growled low—more play than threat—and yanked.

I staggered, half-laughing, half-grunting as he dragged me two whole steps across the yard.

“Alright, alright! Mercy, you beast.” I twisted the rope around my hand for better grip and gave a decent pull. “Come on, Lord Mutticus. Show some respect.”

Nothing. Not even a twitch of recognition.

So far this morning, I’d tried Colonel Woofington , Dr. Paws , and Major Payne . He’d responded to exactly none of them.

The rope slipped through my hands, and I landed on the grass with a soft thump, breathless and grinning.

The dog pounced immediately, tongue lolling, tail windmilling behind him.

His coat gleamed in the morning light—richer brown now, healthier.

He looked like a real dog, not the half-starved ghost I’d met weeks ago behind the diner.

He barreled onto my chest, hot breath panting in my face.

“Good grief. Ever heard of personal space, Sir—God, I don’t know, McBarker?” I laughed as he licked my chin and flopped down, pinning me to the grass with the full weight of his affection. “This is not how tug-of-war ends. You’re cheating.”

Footsteps creaked across the porch. I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“You two look like you’ve been in battle.”

Malcolm’s voice wrapped around the backyard. Deep. Familiar. A little amused.

“You say that like I’m winning.” I tipped my head back and squinted up at him. “He’s relentless.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Malcolm’s mouth as he leaned against the porch railing, coffee in hand. He’d thrown on a faded Sacramento Kings T-shirt and gray cotton shorts that hung just right on his thighs. Sunday casual. Still managed to look like a damn billboard.

The dog sprang off me in a flurry of excitement and trotted toward him. Tongue out. Rope forgotten.

“What a menace,” Malcolm muttered fondly.

The dog froze mid-step. Both ears shot up.

Malcolm glanced at me. “What?”

“Say that again.”

“Menace?”

One sharp bark. Tail wagging like a flag on a windy day.

I grinned. “Holy crap, that’s it.”

Malcolm gave a quick, disbelieving laugh “You think?”

“Only one way to know.” I pointed at the dog. “Menace!”

Wild wagging. A loop around the yard like he’d just won Best in Show. Back to me, panting and grinning.

Malcolm stepped down into the grass, crouching to ruffle the dog’s ears. “Menace,” he said again, softer this time. The dog melted against him, eyes half-closed in bliss.

“Mr. Menace,” I said. “Has a ring to it.”

Malcolm chuckled. “Next you’ll be telling me it’s short for Dennis the Menace.”

The dog’s head snapped up at Dennis , tail thumping against Malcolm’s leg like a drumbeat.

I shot him a look. “Wait… you saw that, right?”

Malcolm tilted his head, testing. “Dennis?”

The tail wagging kicked into overdrive.

I crouched beside them, laughing. “Dennis the Menace it is. But for everyday purposes, we’ll call you Dennis.”

Malcolm’s mouth curved. “He could do worse.”

Dennis picked that moment to whirl around and pounce on something in the grass—probably a bug or, knowing him, a leaf. He took off like a shot straight for Malcolm’s legs.

Malcolm jolted back, laughing. “Okay, Dennis is right.”

“I’ve got him,” I said, stepping in. But Dennis zigged when I thought he’d zag. I bent to grab his collar just as Malcolm did the same, and our hands knocked together.

We both paused.

And then the dog lunged again—pure muscle and chaos—slamming into Malcolm’s shin hard enough to knock him off balance. Instinct kicked in. I caught him around the waist before he could topple over completely.

For a second, neither of us moved. We just stood there, steadying each other while Dennis tore off to hunt whatever imaginary prey had caught his attention this time.

Malcolm cleared his throat, stepping back with a quiet “Thanks.”

“Part of the job,” I said lightly, though my hands remembered the weight of him longer than they should have.

Dennis bounded back, tongue lolling, blissfully unaware he’d just made things… complicated.

I cleared my throat. “You know,” I said, aiming for casual and not quite managing it, “I realized something the other day. You’re the only vet I’ve ever known who doesn’t have any pets.”

Malcolm’s gaze flicked to mine. “Yeah… not exactly ideal for a guy who runs a clinic, huh?”

“It’s a little surprising. But then again, I don’t actually know that many vets.”

He looked toward the open field past the fence. “In the city, I barely had time to eat. My ex was a trauma vet—we worked opposite shifts most of the time. It would’ve been cruel, honestly, bringing an animal into that.”

I nodded, waiting.

“It wouldn’t have been fair to a kid, either.” His voice dropped a little. “Or a relationship. But especially not to a dog. Or cat. Or anything that needs… consistency.”

The weight of that landed quietly between us.

“And now?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

Malcolm hesitated. “I’m still figuring that part out.”

Dennis chose that exact moment to leap up and rocket toward Malcolm again, this time throwing his whole body into his thigh like a four-legged missile.

Malcolm laughed, this time fully. “Okay, okay, I get it—you have thoughts , dog.”

I grinned. “He’s not exactly subtle.”

“No, but he’s persistent.” Malcolm looked at me again, and there was something quieter in his eyes.

That laugh stayed with me. It was low and warm, the kind of sound that made you want to hear more. And the way he looked at me… it tugged at something I hadn’t realized was there. Like a thread woven through me all along, only now catching on something solid.

I glanced away before he could read anything on my face.

There was a warmth I wasn’t used to feeling, or maybe I’d just never stayed in one place long enough to recognize it.

Garrett would’ve teased me about it—he always knew when someone had slipped past my guard, usually before I did.

The only person who could ever read me. The only person I’d let in.

Until now, maybe.

Which was ridiculous.

I told myself it didn’t mean anything. That I wasn’t here for that.

Still, I didn’t pull away when Malcolm’s arm brushed mine again as we both turned toward the dog. Just a graze—skin to skin—but that small contact lodged in a place I didn’t quite recognize. Not uncomfortable. Just… new.

Dennis yipped, tail spinning like a wind-up toy, and barreled between us again, bumping my shin with a wet snuffle.

“Okay, that’s twice now,” Malcolm said. “I think he’s trying to herd us.”

“More like corral us,” I muttered, bending to ruffle the scruff behind his ears. “You’ve got opinions for someone who only got his name a minute ago.”

Dennis yipped like he’d been personally challenged and lunged at the rope again. I tugged back, half-laughing as his paws dug into the grass.

“Careful,” Malcolm said, grinning now, coffee forgotten on the porch rail. “You’ll lose a finger.”

“Then I’ll type one-handed for the rest of my life,” I shot back, bracing my heel in the dirt and pulling. Dennis skidded forward, then twisted free in a ridiculous sideways hop that sent both of us stumbling.

Malcolm stepped in to block him and got a mouthful of rope for his trouble. “Oh, you want me now?”

Dennis growled playfully, tail a blur.

Before I knew it, the three of us were in some chaotic version of keep-away, the dog zigging between us, Malcolm laughing, me laughing harder, until my breath hitched with the effort.

The thing was—I hadn’t played like this in…

I couldn’t even pin it down. Maybe with Garrett, back when we’d found that litter of puppies dumped behind the feed store.

We’d hidden them in the old shed behind the house, swaddled in horse blankets and warmed by a space heater we weren’t supposed to use.

Garrett named them all. I just tried to keep them alive.

I didn’t laugh much these days. But here I was, rolling in the grass with a dog who had no manners and a man who somehow made me forget I didn’t do this anymore.

There were parts of me I didn’t show people—not out of shame, but because most never looked close enough to see them. Garrett had. Always had. From day one, literally. And after losing him, I figured that was it. There wouldn’t be anyone else I’d want to let in like that. Not really. Not fully.

I told myself that intimacy—the kind people wrote songs and sad poetry about—wasn’t built for someone like me. My wiring didn’t work that way. I couldn’t flip a switch. Couldn’t look at someone and just… want.

But now, sitting here with Malcolm and Dennis, feeling that tug in my chest… maybe it wasn’t want exactly. I didn’t even know what shape it might take yet. It was more like a gravitational pull. A door creaking open in a house I’d forgotten I lived in.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was something. Maybe it was less like something to outrun and more like something I might be okay learning to understand—eventually.

If I stayed long enough to find out. Which I wouldn’t.

That was the plan.

The smart thing.

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.