Page 17 of Rusty

Rusty’s gaze softened and he nodded. “That she is. Just needs a little TLC. She’s had a hard time lately.” He cleared his throat. “So? What do you say? Up for hanging out together?”

Janice's heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending time with Rusty. The feelings she had tried so hard to suppress threatened to bubble up to the surface once again. However, she remembered her conversation with Sara and how she had been warned about letting herself become too dependent on Rusty again.

“I guess. . . .” she said softly. "Maybe."

"Would you like to sit with me for dinner?" Rusty offered, gesturing toward two empty chairs.

Janice hesitated. As much as she longed for the familiarity of Rusty’s presence, she knew that she needed to make her own decisions and find her footing at the ranch.

"Thank you for the offer," she said softly, "but I think it would be best if we keep things strictly professional. You know, we shouldn’t try to be friends or anything."

Rusty raised an eyebrow, but there was no hint of disappointment or anger in his expression. "You don’t want to be friends?"

“It’s just that I, uh. . . .”

“It’s alright, darlin’,” said Rusty. “No need to explain. I promise you, I’m not going to try to be your friend. I know we can't be friends.”

Janice swallowed. “No. Of course not. Yuk. No way.”

"I'm thinking we can just talk. Or you can talk and I can listen. Or the other way around. Whatever works."

"Sure. That sounds . . . fine." She looked over at Sara, Zoey, and Rosemary, who had just entered the hall, their faces still smeared with paint from the Nursery. “I’m going to go and sit with those guys now.”

"Of course," Rusty replied, his voice steady but tinged with disappointment. "Enjoy your dinner, Janice."

"Thanks," she whispered, taking a deep breath before walking over to her friends' table.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rusty

The morning sun bathedthe stables in a golden light as Rusty meticulously prepared a quiet spot for his first therapy session with Janice. He arranged two wooden barrels to serve as makeshift chairs and set up a simple crate to act as a table. As he gathered art supplies, journals, and a small speaker playing soothing music, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

"Let this be a safe haven for her," Rusty whispered to himself, hoping that Janice would find comfort in the welcoming atmosphere he had created.

Rusty's thoughts drifted back to last night at dinner, when Janice had made it clear she didn't want to be friends. It made him sad, but he understood. Boundaries were important, especially with their shared history.

Rusty accepted that he would never be a big part of her life again. All he wanted to do now was help her feel a little better.And when he had done that, well, it was job done. Janice would be free to go and live her life however she wanted.

"No matter what, I'll help her find her light again," Rusty vowed silently.

Just then, there was a knock at the stable door. It was Chuck. He leaned against the door frame in his Stetson, chewing on a wheat head.

“You all set, Rusty?” Chuck asked.

“Yup. Thanks for agreeing to let us do this, Chuck. I appreciate it.”

Chuck took the wheat out of his mouth and spat a shell onto the ground. “You know, Rusty, I only ever told the two of you to keep your distance because I thought it was what you wanted. But I can see the way you look at Janice. And I hear the way you talk about her. If there’s somethin’ still there between the two of you, Rust, then it’s down to you if you want to explore it.”

Rusty’s jaw tightened. “Thanks, Chuck. I appreciate it. But seriously, there’s no need to worry about that happenin’. Won’t be any drama where Janice and I are concerned. She and I are in the past.”

Chuck looked over at the crate Rusty had set up, with a little jelly jar full of wildflowers on it to make it look pretty.

“Right,” said Chuck with a skeptical look in his eyes. “Sure thing. I’ll leave you to it, then. I’m here if you ever need to chat, okay?”

Rusty nodded. “I’m all right, Chuck. I promise.”

Chuck left him, and Rusty looked around the space nervously. The wildflowers. The classical music. The secluded spot. Was it all too much? Too . . . romantic?

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