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Christian's gaze shifted to the window, his eyes clouded with the weight of past sorrows. "It was after my grandmother passed away," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "She was everything to me, Casey. She raised me, taught me about this town, about life. Losing her—it hit me hard."
His vulnerability was charming, and I felt a surge of empathy for the pain he had endured. I reached for his hand, intertwining our fingers, silently offering support. "I'm sorry, Christian. I can't imagine what that must have been like for you," I murmured, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand.
He sighed, the lines on his forehead softening as he continued to share a piece of his soul. "After she was gone, I felt so alone. The weight of responsibilities, the grief—it was overwhelming. I started drinking to numb the pain, to escape even if just for a moment."
A profound silence settled in the car as his words hung in the air. The rain outside seemed to echo the somber mood, a backdrop to the shared confessions within the vehicle.
"But," he added, meeting my gaze with a determined intensity, "working with you and Brett, working on this ranch together—it's given me a new purpose. I'm learning to face my demons, to appreciate the family I have left."
His honesty, laid bare in the quiet space between us, deepened the connection we shared. I squeezed his hand, offering silent encouragement. "You're not alone anymore, Christian," I reassured him. "We're here for you, through the good and the tough times."
He managed a small but genuine smile, gratitude flickering in his eyes. I laid my head on his shoulder and we rode home.
CHAPTER 6
Christian: Crashing & Closeness
Iwoke up to a chime from my phone. I rolled over and saw that it was Christian. I quickly grabbed it, careful not to wake Casey.
An email notification from Clay caught my attention, causing my heart to quicken as I opened the message. My eyes raced across the screen, scanning for any signs of impending disaster.
"Hey Christian,
Just wanted to say thanks for last night. Ariel and I had a great time with you and Casey. We should do it again sometime. Looking forward to discussing the ranch further.
Take care,
Clay"
Relief washed over me in waves. It seemed that I hadn't managed to sabotage my fledgling connection with Clay last night. It was a close call, one that I acknowledged with a deep exhale, relieved that the night had ended without any major blunders.
Turning my gaze back to Casey, peacefully asleep beside me, I leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.
The soft light of a new day seeped into the room as Casey slowly stirred from her sleep. When she looked at me, her disappointment was palpable, and I knew I had let her down by overindulging in alcohol. I sighed, mentally preparing myself to address my mistake.
Casey lay beside me, her expression reflecting a mix of concern and irritation. I turned to her, my voice laced with remorse. "Hey," I began softly, "I'm sorry about last night. In the car. I shouldn’t have burdened you with that stuff.”
Her gaze met mine, “please don’t be sorry.” She leaned up and planted a small kiss on my cheek. I nodded, still smiling, and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on her lips.
We both got up and made our way to the kitchen for breakfast.
Casey and I descended the stairs, our footsteps echoing through the quiet house. We were in the midst of preparing breakfast when we heard an unexpected noise coming from the porch. It sounded like a faint whimper, a sound we couldn't ignore.
We exchanged a puzzled glance before hurrying to the back door. As we stepped onto the porch, our eyes landed on a frail and emaciated dog, his bony frame shaking with weakness. His eyes, filled with a mix of fear and desperation, met ours, and it was impossible to turn away.
Casey gasped, her compassionate nature immediately taking over. "Christian, we have to help him," she said, her voice trembling with concern.
I agreed wholeheartedly and rushed inside to fetch a bowl of water. When I returned, the dog's parched and cracked lips lapped up the cool liquid with a voracious appetite. He drank the entire bowl in one go, his gratitude evident in his wagging tail and the newfound glimmer in his eyes.
Casey petted his bony head gently, her eyes welling up with empathy. "Poor thing, he must have been out here for days."
I refilled the bowl with water and placed it back in front of him. Once again, the dog drank eagerly, as if he couldn't get enough. I didn’t refill it again. I didn’t want him to get sick. He looked up at me, waiting. I reached forward and pet his head. His tail wagged in return.
Casey disappeared, then returned from the kitchen with a plate of leftover mashed potatoes, a resourceful choice. She gently set the plate down in front of the dog, and his nose immediately twitched with curiosity. With cautious yet eager steps, he approached the plate and began to devour the potatoes as if they were the most delectable meal he had ever encountered.
"He's really hungry," Casey observed, her voice heavy with compassion.
I nodded in agreement, squatting down beside the dog. "Yeah, poor thing. We'll need to figure out what to do next. He can't stay out here like this."
