Page 17 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

“Diana?” Cassius’s voice snaps me back to reality. “Are you alright? You seem distracted.”

Heat rushes to my face. “I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Just… making sure your posture is correct.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And is it?”

“Almost,” I say, grateful for a chance to focus on teaching. “Uh…” There’s no delicate way to explain this next part. “Clench your, uh, butt cheeks.”

His head snaps in my direction, and he shakes it like he’s scolding me. “You’re teasing. There’s no way Buddy could feel that through the saddle.”

“Give it a try.”

When he does it, Buddy’s head lifts and they seem to move as one.

“Amazing!” He nods.

Our eyes meet, and for a moment, the world freezes. There’s a question in his gaze, a heat that matches the fire building in my belly. I want to say something, to acknowledge this tension between us, but words fail me.

The moment breaks when Buddy steps ahead of me, blocking my view of Cassius’s face.

“I think that’s enough for today,” I say, my voice catching. “You did well, Cassius. Really impressive.”

His smile turns soft, almost shy. “Thanks.”

As we start the post-ride grooming, my mind races. This attraction between us keeps growing stronger every day. I’ve tried keeping things professional and maintaining boundaries, but… my emotions are so strong.

Why am I fighting this? We’re both adults. He’s not really my patient—I’m a mentor, not a therapist. Nothing in the ethics of therapeutic riding forbids us from exploring this—or from dating.

Something needs to change. This tension between us, these unspoken feelings—they’re affecting our work together. We need to talk. If nothing else, we could clear the air.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to Cassius. “I think we should talk. Really talk. Would you mind coming by my cabin after dinner? We could have coffee, figure out where we stand with each other.”

Cassius looks surprised but pleased. “Of course. I’d be happy to come by.”

“Great.” My heart is racing. Maybe if we’re honest with each other, we can find a way forward that feels right for both of us.

Chapter Fourteen

Cassius

My heart slams against my ribs like a war drum as I follow the gravel path to Diana’s cabin. She asked to talk, to clear the air between us, but something about her voice, the way she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes, makes me wonder what she wants to say.

I pause at the edge of her clearing. Her tiny cabin nestles in the trees. There’s a swing on the porch barely wider than my bunk in the barracks. Such a simple home, yet she tells me she’s happy living at Second Chance. Taking a deep breath of cool night air, I climb her steps and knock.

“Come in!” Her voice carries through the door, tight with nervous energy.

I step inside, taking in the small room. No shrine to household gods, no frescoes on the walls—just the basics of modern life. A bed tucked in one corner, a small table set with coffee cups, two wooden chairs, and what they call a “kitchen” with its mysterious devices that cook without fire and keep food cold without ice. The space feels temporary, like Diana isn’t sure she belongs here.

“Hi,” she whispers, then clears her throat as her fingers twist the hem of her shirt. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” I search for somewhere safe to put my hands and finally remember I have pockets. They’re quite handy. The coffee cups on the table suggest she meant for us to talk, but the charged energy between us feels like something more.

As soon as we sit at the table, she charges in, bold despite her quavering voice.

“I’ve tried to keep this professional, but…” Her voice trails off as though she suddenly lost her courage. After drawing a deep breath, she continues. “The thing is, Cassius, I can’t pretend anymore. These feelings I have for you—they’re becoming impossible to ignore.”

She locks eyes with me, as if my gaze is the only thing keeping her afloat—as if she hopes I can read her mind so she won’t have to voice the rest. When I say nothing, she continues.

“I know the timing couldn’t be worse. You’re focused on recovery, on finding your place in this century, and the last thing I want is to complicate that for you. But I also believe in beinghonest, and the truth is…” She meets my gaze directly. “I care about you.” The words come out barely above a whisper, but her eyes never leave mine.

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