Page 32 of Thawed Gladiator: Cassius (Awakened From the Ice #3)

Chapter Thirty-Two

D iana

My alarm chirps at five AM, same as every morning, but for the first time since I started at Second Chance, I don’t immediately jump up to check on the horses. Instead, I lie here, staring at the ceiling, listening to the familiar sounds of the compound—the barn, the soft nickering, the rustle of hay, the quiet footsteps that must be Cassius doing the morning feed.

Cassius.

My chest tightens at the thought of him. A week ago, I would have been out there helping him, stealing glances when I thought he wasn’t looking, treasuring those small moments of connection. Now…

The stranger in my mirror looks hollow-eyed as I finally drag myself through my morning routine. My hands shake as I try to braid my hair, and I give up, pulling it into a messy ponytail instead. What’s the point? Soon enough I’ll be gone from here, back to… where? The thought sends a wave of nausea through me.

A loud whinny from Atlas breaks through my spiral. He’s probably wondering why I’m late. The horses don’t care about human drama—they just know their routines, trust their people to be there. Except I won’t be, soon. My vision blurs as I imagine someone else feeding them, grooming them, teaching new students how to earn their trust.

The walk to Laura’s farmhouse feels endless. Each step past familiar landmarks triggers memories I’m not ready to face: the corner of the barn where Cassius kissed me, the fence where we shared lunch on sunny days, the fields where I first saw him ride like he was born in the saddle. I’d thought those memories would be treasures. Now they’re just wounds.

Laura answers her door before I can knock, as if she’s been waiting for me. One look at her face tells me she got my text about leaving.

“Come in,” she says gently, leading me to her cozy living room. “I’ve just made coffee.”

I sink into an overstuffed armchair, grateful for the momentary reprieve. The familiar scent of coffee fills the air, and suddenly I’m fighting back tears. It’s the little things that break you—the friendly chats, the comfortable silences, the sense of belonging I’d finally found here.

“Laura, I—” My voice catches. I swallow hard, trying again. “I know this puts you in a difficult position. I’ll stay until you find my replacement. The program deserves—”

“Before you say anything else,” Laura interrupts, her voice kind but firm, “there’s something you should know.” She sets her coffee down, meeting my eyes. “Cassius is gone.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “Gone?” I repeat stupidly. “What do you mean, gone?”

“He left with Dara this morning. He…” She hesitates. “He’s decided to leave Second Chance.”

I stare at her, my mind refusing to process the information. “But why would he…” Understanding dawns, bitter on my tongue. “Because of me. He left so I wouldn’t have to.”

“He said he didn’t want to be the reason you gave up your home and your job here,” Laura confirms softly. “He insisted that you stay.”

A laugh escapes me, edged with hysteria. “Of course he did. After what he did last night, now he decides to be the noble one? He had to make the grand gesture.” The laugh turns into something dangerously close to a sob. “I was supposed to be the one leaving. It was my choice to make.”

“Was it?” Laura asks quietly. “The choice to leave, I mean. Is that really what you want?”

I open my mouth to say yes, to stick to my plan, but the word won’t come. Instead, I find myself looking out the window at the property I’ve come to love. The early morning sun gilds the barn roof, and I can see Bailey leading Buddy from his stall, her movements confident in a way they never were when she first arrived. She chose to come to Second Chance on Saturday because what we provide here has value. As it does for Jason, who’s helping Lucien with the hay delivery, their laughter carrying on the breeze.

“I built something here,” I whisper, more to myself than Laura. “Something real. Something that matters.”

“Yes, you did.” Laura’s voice is gentle. “And it’s not just the program, Diana. You’ve built relationships, trust, community. The kids need you. The horses need you.” She pauses. “We need you.”

My vision blurs again. “I don’t know if I can stay. Seeing him every day, watching him pull away, become someone I barely recognize… it hurts too much.”

“And now that he’s gone?”

I open my mouth to talk, but don’t know what to say. My thoughts are whirling in circles so fast I can’t think.

“Maybe him giving you some space is a good thing,” Laura says carefully. “Not his leaving. Not that I have a say in it, but I don’t think he’s ready to strike out on his own. But I don’t think it would be a bad idea for both of you to have some space, some time to figure out what you really want, what you really need…” She lets the thought hang.

I stare into my coffee, watching the light play on its surface. Second Chance was my dream before my attraction to Cassius. The work we do here, the lives we change—that’s bigger than any romance, any heartbreak.

“I’ll think about it,” I say finally. It’s all I can offer right now.

Laura seems to understand that’s all I can handle. She squeezes my hand and walks me to the door, her silence more comforting than any words could be.

The walk back to my cabin passes in a blur. Once inside, I kick off my shoes and collapse on my bed, finally letting the tears flow freely. I miss him already—his smile, his voice, the way he made me feel safe and cherished. But that Cassius is gone, replaced by someone I barely recognize. So why does my heart still ache for him?

I curl up on my bed, hugging a pillow that still smells faintly of him. I know I should be angry that he made this decision without me, that he took away my choice in the matter. Instead, I feel hollow, empty, like someone scooped out my insides and left nothing but an aching void.

Maybe Laura’s right. Maybe I should stay, give us both time to figure out who we are without each other. But right now, all I can do is cry for what we’ve lost, for what might have been, and for the man I thought I knew.

Tomorrow I’ll be strong. Tomorrow I’ll face the kids, the horses, the endless tasks that keep Second Chance running. Tomorrow I’ll start rebuilding my life here—not because Cassius chose to leave, but because this place, these people, this work… it’s still mine. Still matters.

But today, just for now, I let myself mourn.