Page 22 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius

With a currycomb in hand, I move to work with Jason and Buddy while Diana stays with Bailey and Atlas.

“You’re doing great.” My words come naturally. “Buddy is loving the attention.”

Jason glances up, a flicker of interest breaking through his mask. “How can you tell?”

I pause, realizing I’m not sure how I know. It’s as if some deep, buried part of me recognizes the horses’ contentment. “See how his ears are relaxed?” I ask finally. “And how he’s leaning into the brush? That means he’s happy.”

Diana catches my eye, giving me a knowing smile. We may not have touched since that day in her cabin, but we’ve grown closer. Sometimes it’s as though I know what she’s thinking before she says a word.

As the lesson progresses, I find myself more and more engaged. When Bailey struggles to lift Atlas’s hoof for cleaning, I demonstrate the proper technique. When Jason gets frustrated trying to untangle a knot in Buddy’s tail, I show him a gentler approach.

By the end of the session, both teens seem reluctant to leave. Jason has even lost some of his surly edge, patting Buddy’s neck with something close to affection.

“Same time next week?” Diana asks as they prepare to board their van.

Bailey nods eagerly. Jason hesitates, then gives a small nod of his own.

As the van pulls away, Diana turns to me, her eyes shining. “That was amazing, Cassius! The way you connected with them, especially Jason… I’m impressed.”

Her praise warms me more than the sun. “I learned patience from watching you.”

Our gazes lock, and for a moment, the world fades away. I want nothing more than to pull her close, to feel her lips on mine again. But I remember her words, her need for time. I respect that.

Instead, I reach out and squeeze her hand. “We make a good team,” I say softly.

Diana’s smile is radiant as she squeezes back. “Yeah, we really do.”

Chapter Seventeen

Cassius

Pacing beside Atlas, sweat trickles down my neck as we circle the edge of the corral. Jason sits in the saddle, and only his death grip on the reins betrays his terror. We’ve been working together for weeks now, and the change in him is remarkable. Gone is the sullen, angry boy who first arrived at Second Chance. In his place is a young man who stands a little straighter, and whose eyes hold a glimmer of hope.

“Okay, Jason,” I say, “let’s try that turn again. Remember to use your legs to guide the horse, not just the reins.”

Jason nods, his face screwed up in concentration. A flock of birds takes flight, causing him to tense and pull too hard on the reins. Atlas tosses his head, resisting the sudden pressure.

“Easy,” I say softly, reaching out to steady the horse. “Gentle with the reins. Let’s try again.”

I show him the correct technique, then watch as Jason attempts to mimic my movements. His second try is smoother, but I can see frustration building in the set of his jaw and the tightness in his shoulders.

“You’re doing great.” Since I’ve come to recognize the signs of a possible outburst, I keep my voice low, steady, and positive. “Your balance has really improved. Why don’t we take a break?”

He nods stiffly, dismounting and following me to a bench in the shade of the barn. We sit in silence for a while, watching Diana and Bailey work across the corral. Finally, Jason speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I used to play baseball, you know. Before… before everything went to shit.”

I turn to him, surprised by this revelation. “Yeah? Were you any good?”

Jason shrugs, but I catch a hint of pride in his eyes. “I was okay. Dad… he used to coach my team. Always pushing me to be better. Sometimes… it wasn’t gentle.”

“That must have been tough,” I say, sensing there’s more to the story.

He stares at his hands, picking at a callus on his palm. “Yeah. He lost his job. Started drinking. Mom couldn’t take it anymore andleft.” He swallows hard. “Dad… he got mean when he drank. Said it was my fault Mom left. If I hadn’t been rebellious, if I’d put my clothes away, been better at baseball, more helpful, she would still be with us.”

My chest tightens at his words. Something about his story tugs at me, stirring hazy memories. I see flashes of a stern face, hear echoes of angry words. “… Cassius! Shame…” The male voice fades as quickly as it came, leaving my thoughts cloudy.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” I say, pushing aside my confusion. “That sounds hard.”

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