He stops for a moment.
“Been punished,” he finishes. “And, I mean, Rick wasn’thappywhen we showed up, but he gave me a hug before you left for the hospital. Then a couple days later they gave me a really nice pocketknife as thanks for getting you home safe.”
I choose not to examine whether a pocketknife is a good gift for an ten-year-old.
“You were so good that day,” I say, running a hand along Dolly’s back to see if I’m allowed. I think I am. “I was being a dumbass, walking around barefoot, and you still took care of me and got me home safe, and the whole time you were so… sweet, and calm. I’d have been so much more scared if you hadn’t been there, taking care of me.”
Gideon’s silent for a long time, running fingers through Dolly’s fur. Both of us remembering different sides of a sun-soaked summer afternoon.
“It never felt like that, with you,” he finally says, voice soft as anything.
“Like what?”
“Like I was taking care of you,” he says. “It still doesn’t.”
“Even when I do something dumb like chain myself to a tree in a blizzard and you’re very definitely taking care of me?”
Gideon shrugs, glances over at me with this sweet, shy smile on his face.
“It was always different,” he says. “You would take us places and I’d get us home safe. None of it ever felt like a burden. It just felt like… us.”
“I used to want to rescue you,” I say, suddenly, a feeling I’ve never quite put into words before. I must pet Dolly too hard, because she lifts her head, glares, and then decides she’s done with laps for now. “Sometimes you’d come over out of the blue, and you’d look so tired and kind of lost, so I’d microwave popcorn and we’d watch one of those bootleg Disney movies we had, and half the time you’d fall asleep in the middle.”
“I thoughtAladdinalways had commercials in Spanish until I was about thirteen,” Gideon says.
“Or sometimes,” I say, and swallow, because this is a little hard. “My dad or Rick would gesture somehow and you’d flinch away, or if we got in trouble with them you would just… shut down, like you powered off or something.”
Gideon’s staring down at his hands, like I’ve done it to him just now. Shit. After a moment, I turn, drape myself into the corner of the couch, and pull him on top of me.
“Mmph,” he says, mostly into my boobs.
“So I used to concoct these daydreams where you had to come live with us instead of with your own family,” I admit, something I haven’t thought about in years. “I’d get a brother, you’d get a way cooler sister, and you wouldn’t have to live with your parents or your siblings any more.”
There’s another long silence.
“I think you did,” he finally says, both of us sprawled across the couch, his weight warm and heavy on me as I trace fingertips along a shoulder blade. “Rescue me, I mean.”
I process that for a second.
“Shit,” I say. “That’s not—”
“It worked,” he says, and I can tell he’s laughing. “I don’t have to deal with my parents or half my siblings any more, and you basically live in my house. Though the way I think of you sure isn’t sisterly.”
“Well, that’s good,” I say. “And you did bring me home safe.”
Gideon moves up the couch a little until his face is in my neck, his beard tickling my collarbones. He gives one a slow, warm kiss and I wrap my arms around him a little tighter.
“It’s good to be us, again,” he says.
“It’s better than good,” I murmur. His lips press against my throat.
“The best,” he says, and nuzzles against me, and I hold him a little tighter.
We’re home, safe and warm, in the house he shares with his brother and his cat, but I’ve never been here before. I’ve never wanted so badly to wrap someone in my heart and I’ve never felt this urge to push onward, to be brave, to drop my defenses and justbe.
EPILOGUE
GIDEON
