What must it be like to have a family so invested in the creations of their children?
“Who knows?” Gideon had muttered to an empty room. He knew if he wasn’t careful he’d slip into a pity party for one and reminisce on how his childhood hadn’t been one where the refrigerator was covered in his attempts at art. Up and out of bed with his bare feet on the cool floor, he’d stretched tall and ambled into the bathroom. He hadn’t looked at it carefully last night, but the shower was easily big enough for him. The water was hot, and on the plus side, there was a scented shower gel that reminded him of Rowan. Some small part of him felt as if he was taking a risk using it, for so many reasons, but when he squeezed some into his palms and washed, he closed his eyes and imagined that this shower was actually big enough for two.
He and someone else that he had no name for.
Not Rowan. Not at all.
Dressed, he’d gone to the house and heard stories about when Rowan was a kid, of Widget the dog doing something unspeakably cute that ended with Rowan laughing at the memory. Had two Border Collies sprawled over him demanding belly rubs and offering love and shedding hair in return. Then there was the awkwardness of Rowan having to insist that no, Gideon didn’t need his suit cleaned.
Deon and Dog were now pushing them down the path, racing in circles as if they were herding sheep, yipping and rolling and then stopping at a small gate, with Dog clambering over Deon as if they were hugging.
“Look at that!” Gideon said, completely enamored with the fact that the two sheep herding dogs appeared to be best buddies and were hugging on their walk.
“They’re inseparable,” Rowan murmured and whistled to get them to come to his side so he could open the gate, his gloved hand covered in crystals of snow.
He was walking next to Rowan in a few more inches of the white stuff that had fallen overnight. Gideon was in borrowed boots. His pants were tucked into them, and his hands pushed into the pockets of his thick jacket with his beanie pulled down to cover his ears. The one thing he liked most about snow was how it made everything so clean and beautiful, covering all the imperfections of the world, and even though the dogs raced around like mad things, the snow deadened the noise, and everything was peaceful.
“So this is it,” Rowan said and stopped dead under the skeleton of a huge tree. With the blue sky, the white snow, and the ghostly tree, it was the perfect photo, and Gideon wished he’d remembered to bring his camera. Instead, he tugged his cell out from his pocket, caught an image of Deon and Dog hugging again before they darted away, and then took a couple of quick shots of the ghostly tree.
“Is that for your Instagram?”
He was confused. “I don’t have Instagram.”
“Yes, I know,” Rowan snarked. “That was actually my indirect way of asking you why you were taking a photo.”
“To show people, obviously.” Gideon wasn’t entirely sure who he’d be showing it to. Darcy probably. Gideon had thousands of photos in the cloud, but they were mostly for his viewing only. It wasn’t so much sharing the photos as capturing something beautiful to remember. “Is this your tree?” He stepped forward and placed a hand on the solid trunk, staring up at the sky through the branches, then snapped another shot, but his gloves made it difficult to use the right setup for the photo on his iPhone, so he gave up after a while.
“Yep. This is the one. See here…” Rowan vanished into a large evergreen bush, and Gideon assumed he was meant to follow. There was a gap in the hedge that wasn’t obvious unless you really looked, and he crouched a little to follow Rowan. The bush, whatever it was, formed an arch over them. They only went a little way in before the space fully opened, and the trunk of the tree was obvious. “It’s a lot like a place I found when I first came to my newest foster house in the long list of foster families.”
Rowan paused and now it was his turn to press a hand to the rough bark. “Back at the old house, when my moms first took me in, sometimes I needed my alone time. There was one place, with a tree and hedges, and there was a quiet space. I would hide away from the other foster kids when it got too loud.”
“Peace and quiet is important,” Gideon said because he couldn’t think of anything better to say.
Rowan shot him a glance and continued. “With a book, cookies, and two cans of soda, plus a cushion and blankets, I would stay in there for hours. When we moved from that house to here, I was gutted that I’d lost that space, so I actually made this. I must have been sixteen, probably should have grown out of it, but I hadn’t. Anyway, Momo and I hacked at this bush and made a corridor and dug over the ground. I didn’t have much time to sit here, but she always said to me that it was enough to know I had it.”
All kinds of emotion built up in Gideon at the mental picture Rowan was painting. He hadn’t told that story to get pity or for Gideon to comment, it was just part of the fabric that made up Rowan, and he’d never hidden his backstory. He knew Rowan was adopted, but they’d never talked seriously about that before. He also knew he’d been a foster kid in a couple of places before landing with his moms. Rowan had never gone into serious detail. It was a dangerous line to cross. One minute Rowan would share memories of his childhood, and the next Gideon would be spilling all his secrets about his family, and worst of all losing Luke and how it changed him.
“Do you remember the interview?” he blurted and then wished he hadn’t when Rowan looked at him curiously.
“For which client?”
“No, the interview for your position as my PA.” He left the duh as implied.
“Oh.” Rowan couldn’t quite meet Gideon’s gaze. “Yeah I do, sometimes when I’m lying in bed at night I’ll think back on what I said to you about my adoption, and the family, and how it flooded out, and I get a flood of embarrassment at what happened. Not that I think about you in bed. Or…y’know.” He waved his hand then led them back out of the way they’d come and Gideon wondered if that was the subject dropped. As soon as they were out though, Rowan continued. “I remember I told you my whole life story for absolutely no reason.”
“It was when I asked you if you wanted a bottle of water.”
“Don’t blame me if I connected a bottle of water to my moms and the sad sorry tale of little Rowan. Anyway, in my defense it was the first interview for a position I really wanted, so a lot was riding on it, and you promised to forget what I’d said and not hold it against me.” Rowan smiled at him because they both knew that Gideon didn’t forget things in a hurry, and Gideon couldn’t help but return the smile.
“I forget nothing,” Gideon agreed.
Rowan huffed a laugh as they carried on down the hill to the bottom fence. “Don’t I know it.”
Deon raced diagonally from the far corner, frisbee in his mouth, snow kicking up after him, and Dog on his heels. A bit farther back was Bear, but he was lumbering at more speed than Gideon had expected from such a big dog. They were so free, lively, running, and jumping, and barking at the snow, and they were heading right for Rowan and Gideon. Not that Rowan noticed because he was busy chatting on about apple pie, or hedges, or something. Gideon wasn’t listening. He was abruptly filled with concern as he focused in on the running dogs. Any minute now they were sure to turn, and right on cue Deon swerved, and Dog followed. But at the moment Gideon relaxed, Bear had no brakes or the ability to swerve. Missing Rowan by an inch and barreling into Gideon at full speed, taking his legs out from under him and sending him tumbling into the snow.