Page 27 of Finding Gideon (Foggy Basin Season Two)

Malcolm

Gideon was lounging on the couch, legs tucked beneath him, Dennis snoring against his thigh like some protective little gremlin.

A paperback was balanced in one hand, the cover half-hidden by his fingers but not enough to disguise the shirtless men and sunset in the background.

He’d told me once he hadn’t picked up a novel in years—until someone at the clinic left a copy of The Fault in Our Stars behind, and he’d read the first chapter out of boredom.

Now he was halfway through his third gay romance, and judging by the faint smile tugging at his mouth, thoroughly enjoying it.

My boyfriend looked so at home, so completely settled in this house, it almost undid me.

We’d just finished cleaning the kitchen—well, I’d washed while Gideon dried and hummed off-key. He’d made a mess of the counters with an apple cobbler experiment, but I hadn’t minded. Still didn’t.

Phone in hand, I lingered in the kitchen doorway, thumb hovering over the screen. Nothing unusual about it. I’d called them last week, same way, just at a different time.

They loved me. I knew that. They’d loved me even when I’d gotten married too young, even when that marriage didn’t last. Even when I’d changed my entire life and moved to a place that made Stars Hollow look like a metropolis. They would love me now too.

Probably.

Still, something low in my stomach flipped because this mattered so damn much.

I looked at Gideon again.

His mouth moved as he read, silent but animated—like he was carrying on a private conversation with the page.

Every now and then, his grin tugged crooked, nose scrunching as if the words had surprised him.

One hand shifted to scratch behind Dennis’s ears, and the dog gave a blissed-out groan before rolling to his back, paws twitching in his sleep.

It was nothing—an ordinary moment—but it felt like a fault line opening inside me, subtle and seismic all at once.

That was love. That twist in my gut, that rush of fierce and tender all tangled together. I loved him.

I hadn’t said it out loud. Not even to myself until now.

But it was true.

And now I wanted—needed—my family to know this man. This gorgeous, stubborn man. This man with the softest heart. This man who’d walked into my clinic and flipped my whole world on its axis with a stray dog and a smile I still hadn’t recovered from.

Careful not to jostle him, I leaned down and lifted Dennis, his warm weight heavy and trusting in my arms. He gave a disgruntled huff before I set him in his bed. Then I crossed back and sat down where he’d been, close enough that my leg brushed Gideon’s.

He lowered the book, marking his place with a finger. “Hey.”

I reached for his wrist, thumb brushing the pulse there. “I’m calling my folks.”

His head tilted, eyes narrowing. “Like… now?”

“Yeah.”

He wet his lips, considering. “Do you want privacy or…?”

“Do you want to say hi?” The words came softer than I meant them to.

For a second he just stared. “Say hi like—hi, I’m the guy you’re dating, your boyfriend?”

A corner of my mouth curved. “Say hi like—hi, I exist, and your son’s really into me.”

He made a strangled sound, glancing at the phone like it might bite him. “That’s not helping, Doc.”

A laugh broke out of me, quick and helpless. God, he looked horrified and beautiful all at once.

“It’s just a hi.” My hand slid to his thigh, grounding us both. “No pressure. No speech. Just… be you.”

Gideon’s chest rose, fell. Then he gave a shaky little nod. “Okay. Yeah. I can do that.” He shifted, half-turning on the couch like he wasn’t sure whether to lean in or bolt. Finally, he settled at my side but angled just out of the camera’s view, fingers twined with mine.

I hit the button. The call connected with a lag, then the screen filled with my mother’s face, with Camille perched on the arm of her chair and Dad in the background.

“Hi, baby,” Mom said, her smile already warm.

Camile eyed Mom with mock anger. “I thought I was your baby, Ma.”

“Behave yourself, Cam,” Mom admonished playfully. “Both of you are my babies.”

My sister pouted. But it was all in jest.

Beside me, Gideon let out a breathy laugh I doubted they could hear, nerves bleeding through even in that small sound.

Dad snorted. “Would you two give Mal a chance to get a word in?”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said, half-laughing. “Hi, Ma. Hi, Dad. Hi, Camille.”

“Hi, big brother.” Camille’s grin was sly. “You look smug. Don’t tell me it’s because you finally learned how to cook something besides scrambled eggs.”

I shook my head. “I’ll have you know Dennis thinks I’m a five-star chef.”

“Dennis probably thinks grass clippings are a five-star meal,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Mom gave her a look but didn’t argue. “Are you eating vegetables? And getting a good night’s sleep?”

I leaned back into the couch. “Yes, Ma. I had spinach yesterday. Got a solid six hours last night.”

“That’s not enough. You need at least seven and a half.”

“Seven and a half? What kind of oddly specific?—”

“I read a study,” she said, waving me off. “You’ll thank me when you’re not hunched over like your father.”

Dad passed behind her with a glass of water, muttering, “I’ve been hunched since ’89. This is nothing new.”

Camille rolled her eyes again. “Can we acknowledge that Malcolm still has that loner energy? I thought small-town life was supposed to soften you. Bring joy. Open your pores or whatever.”

“You watch too many romantic comedies,” I said.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not a loner; I’m peaceful.” I grinned despite myself. “And I’m not single either.”

That got their attention.

Gideon tensed beside me, his palm damp against mine, but I gave his fingers a squeeze.

Camille raised both eyebrows. “Wait. Back up. Did you just casually drop that you’re not single like it’s not news?”

Mom squinted again, leaning forward. “Are you seeing someone?”

Dad was still now.

I nodded slowly, thumb grazing the edge of the phone. “Yeah. It’s… kind of new. But not that new.”

“Okay,” Mom said, drawing the word out. “And are we going to meet her?” Mom’s gaze softened. “You can say whatever you need, baby. You know that.”

“Yeah, son,” Dad said. “We’re listening.”

And I realized this was the moment.

I let the quiet settle for a second longer, the screen filled with the familiar faces of the people who’d raised me—my anchor and my compass, even when I didn’t always know how to say it.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “It’s not a she; it’s a he.”

Another beat.

Camille’s lips parted, then shut again. “A he?”

“Yes.” I held her gaze.

A pause, the kind that happens when everyone knows the next part matters.

Then my mother’s face softened, the corners of her mouth turning up. “Well, it’s about time you brought someone home. What’s he like?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My chest loosened. “He’s kind. And brilliant. Loves animals.”

Dad’s voice came through, calm but wry. “Is he a Kings fan?”

I stared at the phone. “What?”

“Sacramento Kings,” he said. “Because if this man walks into my house cheering for the Lakers, we’re going to have words.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “He’s joking.”

“Am I?” Dad muttered.

Camille laughed. “Look at you. So proud of yourself for dating a boy and disappointing Dad in one go.”

I shook my head, smiling so hard it hurt a little. “I didn’t say anything about basketball.”

“You’re dating a man,” my father said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “And you’re happy. That’s all I need to know.”

My eyes stung.

Mom’s voice came soft again. “When you’re ready, we’d love to meet him. Face to face.”knee brushed mine, and I felt the tension humming under his skin. I gave him a look that asked, Are you ready?

He swallowed. Nodded once.

I turned slightly toward Gideon, who was sitting just out of frame, quiet and still. His

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I said to my family.

I squeezed my boyfriend’s hand—not to pull him in, just to let him know I was there, steady as ever. After a second, he shifted closer, enough so that his face came into view.

“Dad, Ma, Cam, this is my boyfriend, Gideon.”

Camille let out a low, delighted sound. “Your boyfriend?” A pause, then a smile spread. “That’s… really good to hear.”

Mom gasped like she’d just unwrapped something precious. “Any person my son cares about is family already.”

Dad tilted his head, studying Gideon a moment before nodding. “Good to finally put a face to the name.” Then he smiled broadly. ”Welcome to the family, son.”

Gideon’s fingers tightened around mine. “Thanks. It’s—nice to meet you. All of you.” He let out a shaky laugh, almost embarrassed. “Um. This is… new for me.”

My mom leaned closer to the screen, and I could hear the warmth in her voice like sunlight. “It’s new for us too, sweetheart. But we’re glad you’re here. You make my boy smile. That’s everything.”

“Your son makes me smile too.” He sounded less nervous.

“We do need to settle this basketball situation eventually.”

“Mom—”

“Kidding,” she said, though Dad muttered, "Go Kings."

Gideon chuckled. My thumb rubbed slow circles into his palm.

When we finally hung up, the quiet settled around us again.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Gideon nodded. “They’re… great. You’re lucky.” A beat. “I wish my brother… My brother would’ve liked them.”

I pulled him close, arms wrapped around him. He smelled like apples and home.

“They’re going to love you,” I whispered.

I kissed his temple. Held him tighter.

And in the quiet that followed, I thought it, clear and simple:

I already do.