Page 23 of Finding Gideon (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Gideon

A soft grunt came from the blanket beside me.

Toast stretched out his good back leg and gave a lazy blink, one ear twitching in the breeze.

He looked better—meat on his bones, a glint in his eyes that hadn’t been there weeks ago.

His coat caught the light, patchy but cleaner, glossier.

Progress wasn’t loud. It looked like this.

I crouched beside him and ran my hand gently along the joint of his hind leg, feeling the warmth, the looseness in the muscle. He let out a low, contented huff and dropped his head back down.

“Not bad for a guy with three legs,” I murmured, scratching under his chin.

He thumped his tail once on the blanket. A slow, lazy drumbeat of approval.

A few feet away, Dennis lay sprawled in the shade of the lemon tree, his tongue lolling slightly as he kept one eye cracked open in Toast’s direction.

Ever the reluctant big brother, Dennis had taken it upon himself to supervise the newbie.

Every time Toast made a noise or shifted, Dennis would twitch or grunt like he was ready to write a report on it.

I leaned back on my heels, took a breath. The quiet out here was different—the kind of peace you could sink into. A bee bobbed past my ear. The world kept on humming, soft and low. There were no emergencies. No one asking me for anything. Just the rhythm of breath and sun and space.

This—this made sense.

Toast shifted again, scooting closer so his side brushed against my leg. I rubbed behind his ear without thinking.

Tires crunched over gravel. A car door slammed in the distance. My head lifted, the moment fracturing slightly. Then the quick, unmistakable sound of sneakers hitting dirt—fast and light, like a kid too excited to walk.

“Toastie!”

The voice shot through the stillness, full of sunshine.

Junie.

Toast’s ears perked. He pulled himself up and took a few shaky steps toward the gate before pausing. Head tilted. Listening.

She rounded the corner in a blur of braids and denim, arms flapping like she might take flight. Behind her, her moms walked hand in hand, one of them holding a brown paper bag to her chest. It looked like they were in vacation mode, sandals and sunglasses and relaxed shoulders.

Toast made a sound I hadn’t heard from him before. Sort of a chirpy, hiccuped bark. Then he limped forward again, faster this time, tail wagging in a wide, slow arc. There wasn’t any hesitation or fear. Just recognition.

Joy.

“Hi, Toastie! I missed you so much!” Junie dropped to her knees right there in the grass.

He reached her a beat later and collapsed beside her like he’d been running a marathon. She didn’t flinch when he pressed his snout to her leg, and didn’t pull away when his tongue caught her wrist.

Instead, she laughed. “That tickles, you silly dog.” Her voice dropped to something softer. “You remember me, huh?”

Toast flopped sideways into her lap and let out a gusty sigh, content as all hell.

I stood; the backs of my knees ached from crouching too long, but that wasn’t my focus.

My eyes were locked on the two of them—Junie humming something under her breath, fingers combing gently through the fur behind Toast’s ear.

It was probably a made-up tune. Something light and off-key and perfect.

It didn’t feel like watching a kid with a dog.

It felt like watching the last piece click into a puzzle you didn’t know you’d been working on.

Junie looked up at me with a grin.

“He’s even cuter now,” she said.

“He’s a total diva,” I replied.

“He earned it.” She kissed the top of his head.

She wasn’t wrong.

Behind her, Nia and Rachel caught up, waving as they stepped into the yard. “Hope we’re not interrupting,” Rachel said.

“Not at all.” My voice came out a little hoarse. “Good to see you guys again.”

“Junie insisted Toast needed treats. And a squeaky fried egg,” Nia said, holding up the paper bag. “Because, apparently, Toast and egg make the ultimate breakfast buddies.”

Junie gasped. “I forgot about the egg!” The little girl scrambled up and ran the few steps to grab it, then dropped back down next to Toast, already rustling inside.

“We should have asked if Toast is allowed picnic snacks first,” Rachel said with an apologetic smile.

“He is,” I said, watching Junie smooth her palm down his side. The dog was completely at ease. “But he’s got a weakness for peanut butter. So… you’ve been warned.”

She grinned. “Duly noted.”

Junie turned to us and said with a gap-toothed smile, “Next time we’ll get him rubber bacon.”

We all burst into laughter. Junie was too adorable for words.

That tickle at the back of my neck flared. Awareness. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Malcolm stepped through the gate. He came to stand beside me, close enough that a shift in either of us would bring our arms together.

“Hey,” he said, voice warm. “How’s it going?”

“Can’t complain,” I replied, glancing at him long enough to catch the corner of his mouth tipping up. My pulse gave a traitorous kick.

Dennis gave a soft chuff and wound between us like it was his job to make sure we didn’t forget he was there. Malcolm crouched, rubbed behind his ears. “Hey, Dennis,” he said, low and fond.

Malcolm rose to his feet and turned to the moms. “Nice to see you all again.”

They greeted him back with easy smiles, then drifted toward Junie and Toast. Nia knelt beside her daughter, while Rachel scratched under Toast’s chin, cooing at him.

“They’re the best duo since Tacos and Tuesday,” he said, voice pitched low like it was a secret between us.

My throat tightened a little. “She loves him. And he’s… calm. Around her, I mean. It’s as if she’s his home.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just watched them romping on the grass.

“Are you thinking of placing him with them?” he asked eventually.

I nodded. “Yeah. I think they’re perfect for each other.”

Junie had started humming again. Same silly little tune. Toast’s leg gave a half-kick like he wanted belly rubs. Rachel snapped a photo and Nia laughed softly.

I hooked my thumbs into my pockets, shoulder brushing Malcolm’s as we both watched the scene unfold. “Makes me wonder if there are others like Toast out there,” I said, my voice low enough for just him. “Animals that are blind, deaf, disfigured. The ones most people overlook.”

Malcolm’s head tilted slightly toward me, but he didn’t speak.

“What if it’s not just about getting them adoptable?

” My eyes stayed on Junie’s small hands moving over Toast’s fur.

“What if there are people out there who need them as much as they need someone? If there were more like him…” I exhaled, glancing at Malcolm’s profile before looking back at the yard.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’d want to do something about it. ”

Malcolm didn’t try to fix it or frame it. He just said, “You never know, Gideon. There might be.”

It hit me all at once—the peace of it. The rightness. Not just the placement, but the bigger thing taking shape in my chest.

Nia’s voice called across the yard. “We brought extra sandwiches if anyone wants to join.”

I looked at Malcolm, my mouth already curving. “Guess it’s lunch.”

Dennis took off ahead.

Malcolm and I fell into step behind him, perfectly aligned.