“Gideon’s fine and it was dumb to lie,” I tell her, because I need to get off this topic, like, ten minutes ago. “How was the cruise?”
* * *
Gideon wanders backinto the room as I’m saying goodbye to Lucia, his tablet and a book under one arm. He’s got a green sweater on today, just as cozy and warm-looking as the other two, and I nearly tell him that it really brings out his eyes but don’t.
“Reid’s the brother who lives with you?” I ask instead, looking down at the screen of his phone.
“Yeah.”
“He sent you a picture of a plate of raw meat,” I say, handing the phone over. “I don’t know if that’s urgent or something.”
Gideon takes the phone, looks at the poorly lit picture of red meat strips arranged neatly on a white plate, and mutters something to himself while he texts back.
“He’s not training Dolly to enjoy the taste of flesh, is he?” I ask, stretching my legs out on the couch and wiggling my toes in my socks.
“Cats are carnivores,” Gideon says, still half-distracted by what I hope isn’t Reid’s dinner. “She already enjoys the taste of flesh.”
“Remind me never to burgle your house.”
“You needed reminding?” he says, and puts his phone in his pocket, then crosses his arms and looks at me, half-sprawled on the couch.
“Can’t hurt,” I say as he walks over and waves one arm at me in amake spacegesture. It’s odd how used to him I already am, but it’s also nice. Funny what patterns you remember about a person.
“It’s for R-185,” he says, sitting on the other end of the sofa. I’m still half-reclining, my head on the armrest, legs haphazardly crossed in the middle of the couch.
“Of course,” I say, because what the fuck is that? A terminator?
“Who, if you’lllet me finish, is a bald eagle who broke her humerus when she got tangled in a fence two months ago, and the raptor sanctuary didn’t have space, so I’m letting her rehabilitate in my back yard.”
“There’s a bald eagle in your back yard?”
“In a cage,” he says quickly. “A big one. Big enough for her to walk and heal up until the wildlife center has space for her. Anyway, Reid had to thaw some more of her food and wanted to make sure he did it right.”
“You have a pet bald eagle and didn’t tell me until right now,” I say. “What’s her name?”
“R-185.”
“That’s a designation,” I say, being very patient with Gideon.
“She’s a wild animal.”
“She’s eating steak in your back yard,” I say, and on a whim, put my feet in his lap. His thighs are warm beneath my Achilles tendons, and also… solid. Quite solid.
Gideon looks at my feet for a long moment. It’s long enough that I’m about to move them because that was kind of a weird thing to do in the first place, like, are we that kind of friends? But then he settles his right hand on my left ankle, his fingers wrapping all the way to my Achilles, his thumb on the bony knob.
I don’t move.
“Uh,” Gideon says, like he’s lost his train of thought. “Well, she has to eat something. Raptors are obligate carnivores and she’s in no shape to hunt. So.”
“Still sounds like a pet,” I say.
Gideon sighs and tilts his head back against the cushions, holding onto my ankle while he lets himself slouch, like he’s making sure I’m not going anywhere. After a moment, I realize his thumb’s tracing a circle around the knob of my ankle and he gives me an exasperated look. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I think there’s a hint of a smile somewhere in there and it gives my heart a weird stutter.
It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him this whole time and if I didn’t know better, I’d think maybe he washappy. I try not to overthink it.
“Reid calls her Victoria,” he admits. “Because he’s a big softie and I’m worried that when we have to give her to the wildlife center, he’s gonna be upset.”
There’s moment of quiet where I try to imagine getting emotionally attached to a bald eagle. I’m sure people have done it, but all I can imagine is majestic-yet-beady eyes looking at me and thinking about murder.
