Page 29 of Finding Gideon (Foggy Basin Season Two)

But maybe I hadn’t been missing anything.

Maybe I was wired differently.

And maybe this thing with Malcolm—this slow, careful, beautiful thing—was the first time I’d felt enough, safe enough, known enough to want more.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until Dennis climbed onto the couch and nudged at my knee with his snout.

“Thanks, bud,” I whispered, ruffling his fur.

I wiped my face and opened a private browser window.

I wasn’t rushing things. I wasn’t even sure how far I wanted to go. But I wanted to be ready when I was sure.

And I wanted it—with Malcolm.

I ordered a bottle of lube, some condoms, and a plain silicone toy that looked less scary than the rest. Chose express delivery. My stomach fluttered when I hit confirm.

Not because I was nervous. But because I was excited. And that, more than anything, felt like a beginning.

When the doorbell rang, I had a spatula in my hand.

Dennis barked once—more of a lazy grumble than a warning—and went right back to napping on his side of the couch, feet twitching like he was chasing something in his dreams.

I yanked the door open, half-expecting it to be Malcolm, even though I knew he was at the conference in Santa Rosa.

Instead, there stood Reuben.

Grinning like he’d just caught me mid-crime.

“Well, hey there, sunshine,” he said. “You baking or redecorating?”

I looked down at the streak of flour on my shirt, sighed, and wiped it half-heartedly with the back of my wrist. “A little of both, apparently.”

Reuben held out a medium-sized box. It was plain brown, no markings except the shipping label. But I knew what was inside. And I really, really didn’t want to have this conversation.

He didn’t hand it over. Just let it hover there between us, like a baited hook.

“You get a lot of packages?” he asked, cocking his head. “I feel like this is the third one this week.”

“Second,” I said, reaching for it.

He pulled it slightly out of reach. “Dog treats? You finally giving that rescue some gourmet kibble?”

“His name is Dennis,” I said, my tone bone dry. “And no. Not dog treats.”

Reuben looked down at the label like it might spill state secrets. “Fulfillment Center, Sacramento,” he muttered, then gave me a look. “That’s vague as hell.” Then, a dramatic pause. “Wait. Don’t tell me. Espresso machine parts?”

I snorted. “Do I look like I’m fixing an espresso machine?”

“You look like you haven’t slept in three days and you live off caffeine and chaos,” he said, unbothered. “Which makes this package suspect.”

I deadpanned, “It’s not as exciting as you’re hoping, Reuben.” I held out my hand, flat-palmed. “Now hand it over.”

Reuben sighed dramatically but finally released the box into my hands. “One of these days, I’m gonna guess right.”

“Not today.” I was so tempted to shut the door before he could say more, but he squinted past me into the house.

“That the start of a book fort I see in the corner?”

“It’s two stacks of novels, not a fort.”

“Uh-huh.” He tapped the side of his nose. “You know what I think this is?”

“Reuben—”

“I think it’s one of those blind boxes where you get a new candle each month that smells like heartbreak and pine needles.”

“I think you need a hobby.”

“I have one. It’s guessing what weird stuff my neighbors order online.”

I smiled despite myself. “Enjoy your rounds, Mr. USPS.”

He tipped an imaginary hat, eyes twinkling. “You enjoy your... books, son.”

And with a wink, he turned and sauntered down the porch steps like he’d won something.

I closed the door, leaned against it for a second, and let out a slow breath.

Then I looked down at the box in my hand, heart kicking a little faster.

I didn’t open the box right away.

I set it on the bed, next to the folded hoodie Malcolm had left behind, and went about the rest of my day like it was insignificant. Like it wasn’t sitting there, waiting. Like I wasn’t different now.

But I was.

Not because I’d clicked a button and ordered lube and condoms in some kind of quiet declaration. But because somewhere between the first brush of his fingers and the way he’d kissed my neck like he worshipped it, something in me had shifted.

My body still buzzed—not in a frantic way, but softer, deeper. My skin remembered him. The sounds he made. The way his fingers brushed my hair back, like I was precious.

I’d never felt that before. Wanting someone this way. Not just because he was beautiful—though he was. Not just because of how good he made me feel—though he did. But because… I knew him. I trusted him. He made space for me to be exactly who I was, without rushing, without pushing.

It wasn’t just about sex. I’d gone twenty-four years without that kind of urgency. I could’ve gone longer. Maybe for the rest of my life.

But now? Now I wanted.

And not just that.

I wanted him. In the mornings. In the messy everyday stuff. In the in-between spaces. In the silence. I wanted to reach for his hand and feel him squeeze back.

I wasn’t just attracted to him.

I trusted him.

I felt seen by him.

That kind of safety didn’t come easy. Not for me. But with Malcolm…

My chest ached with it, full and restless, like my heart was learning a new language it was always meant to speak. My hands wanted to reach for him even when he wasn’t near, like muscle memory had already claimed him. This wasn’t urgency, and it wasn’t lust alone. It was devotion.

It was love.

I think I’m ready.

Not just for sex.

But for all of it—the good days, the hard ones, and all the messy parts that make a life together.

Because I was in love with him.