Chapter Five
Orsen watched Crompton ride over on Billy, his horse. He had told Orsen what breed the horse was, but all Orsen took in was huge. Billy was a huge black horse. Seventeen hands or something had been mentioned, but Orsen had no idea what that meant. Why were the measurements in hands? Was that important?
“Is he coming over, then? The finance man.”
Orsen nodded. “He should be here in a few minutes.” He stood and tried to stretch but winced when pain flared in his shoulder. Not as bad now compared to how it felt the first few days, but things seemed to be improving very slowly. He needed physical therapy on it, and that would begin in another couple of weeks. Crompton had told him he would drive Orsen into town for it, then suffer at a local coffee shop with people he didn’t like until Orsen had finished.
Orsen had chuckled at the word suffer, then seen the scowl on Crompton’s face and quickly stopped. The fact that he’d offeredmade Orsen feel warm inside. He’d never had that before, or if he had, he couldn’t remember. Maybe Allison had cared for him when he was young, before she’d been murdered. If he thought really hard, he could vaguely remember her taking care of him, but he’d learned at an early age that he had to do that himself.
Hearing the sound of tires on gravel, Orsen looked up to see Santino driving toward him. Crompton grumbled and nudged Billy away. “Don’t take any of his shit, Orsen. You’re your own man now.”
Orsen nodded and watched Santino get out of his car. Tall, with chocolate eyes, dark hair, and olive skin, the suit did little to hide the broad shoulders or thick thighs. The man worked out, and it showed in the way his clothes stretched over him. Orsen swallowed, watching Santino move, seeing his body had Orsen feeling—
“Morning, Orsen.”
“Do you work out?” he blurted.
“I do. I have to have my pants adjusted. Slim waist and thick thighs.”
“Like a bodybuilder.”
“Not as big as one of those.” Santino smiled. “Why do you ask? Are you interested in working out?”
“The doctor said I needed to put some weight on. Everyone keeps giving me food.”
Santino sat next to Orsen on the swing on the porch and pushed it with his foot. “This is nice. Peaceful. You can sit and let your mind wander.”
“I like it.” Orsen liked knowing he wouldn’t be punched or kicked anymore.
“We have a couple of things to go over. Do you want to do it here or inside?”
Orsen looked at Santino, noting his tanned skin, so different from his own. “You’re different from me.”
“I come from a long line of Italians, and I have their coloring.”
“I don’t really know where I come from.” Orsen looked away, staring out at the tree line in the distance. “I don’t want the family I do… did have.”
“You can create your own family. Blood isn’t always thicker than water, as the saying goes. Look at Cody. He made his own family.”
“I’m not sure TJ had much of a choice. Cody wanted his man, and he got him.”
Santino arched an eyebrow. “Cody did the chasing?”
“Cody moved in and told TJ he’d be staying.” Orsen smiled. While in the hospital, Cody had talked to him, told him about the beginning of his relationship with TJ. Convincing the older man to be with him. “He’s always loved TJ. Even when he was younger. He told me TJ was the only man for him, and he came back to Robinson to get him. I like them.”
“I do too. Cody is older than his years.”
“I think he went through something bad, and it made him grow up. He didn’t tell me much, just that it needed to happen so he could become the person he was meant to be.” Orsen watched a flock of birds take flight, the sounds of their cries filling the air. “Sometimes I think what I went through was so I could find something in life, but I don’t know what.”
“I personally think you should recover first, but I don’t know you too well, so I could be wrong.”
“No, I need to figure out who I am.” Orsen blinked and glanced at Santino. “It’s easy talking to you. I don’t talk much.”
“Was there any reason for you to talk when you were at home?”
“No,” he whispered. “I stayed quiet. Safer that way.”
Santino hummed softly, pushed the swing again, and Orsen leaned back, letting the quiet fall around them. It wasn’t uncomfortable either, like some silences could be. Sitting withSantino felt nice, and he liked that. With Ambrose, the tension had constantly filled the air, waves of anger and hatred spilling out from him, ready to be triggered.
