Page 28 of The Road Home
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Orson woke up, sitting up in a panic, his arms pushing out to force the man off him. It took only a moment to realize he was dreaming, but the damage was already done. His body trembled, and his breath came fast and heavy as he tried to force the images from his head.
As he started to calm down, a whole new wave of emotions hit him as he realized where he was and why he was there. He glanced around the guest room that Jared had led him to once they'd gotten to his house. Sleeping in a real bed and in such a nice place was something he wasn't used to. It had only taken minutes for him to go to sleep, even with the thoughts of Harry distracting him. The bed was the most comfortable thing in the world.
He closed his eyes, flopping back against the pillow as he thought about the night. True to his word, Jared had taken him back to the storage units and waited patiently in the car as Orson ran inside and broke the news to the rest of the people who were concerned about Harry.
They'd been worried about him leaving again, but when he explained he was with Harry's doctor and would be going back to the hospital with him first thing in the morning, they didn't fight him to stay.
Jared had been a godsend. He didn't know what he would do if he hadn't been at the hospital still. And he'd gone out of his way to help him by letting him see Harry and then stay the night at his house. He'd never be able to pay Jared back for all he was doing.
Birds chirped outside the window, telling him dawn was nearing. It had been almost three before they'd managed to get to bed. As tired as he was, he couldn't seem to shut down all the thoughts in his head. Seeing Harry unconscious had hit him harder than he thought it would, then having Jared confirm he'd been raped made it that much worse. He wasn't sure how to help Harry recover, if he did at all. Even with his limited knowledge, he was sure that being unconscious wasn't a good thing. Jared was at least honest with him, not giving him any false hope that he would be okay. It was wait and see, and that was exactly what Orson would do.
He pulled one of the extra pillows to his chest, trying to remember the last time he'd even had a pillow to sleep on. He'd hung out with a few people in Arizona who had somehow gotten a small motel room for a night. He'd shared a bed with someone that night, but the motel had been so noisy that he'd hardly been able to enjoy having a comfortable place to sleep.
Being at Jared's was different. He had a room to himself, with orders to make himself at home if he should wake up before Jared did. The bed was like floating on a cloud, and he was sure he'd be thinking about it often as he went back to sleeping on the hard ground again.
He stirred as he heard a knock on the door, surprised when he opened his eyes to see that it was daylight. He sat up, realizing he must have faded back to sleep at some point.
"Orson?" Jared called from outside the room.
"Yeah, come in." Orson sat up, rubbing his eyes, trying to push the sleep away.
"Hey, I'm sorry to wake you." Jared pushed the door halfway open, leaning against it, just his head poking around the edge. "It's noon and I have to be in to work at three. I wasn't sure how long you wanted to have to wake up before we go, and I wanted to make sure you had time to eat."
Orson's eyes went wide. "It's noon? Shit, I didn't mean to sleep so long. I'm sorry." He meant to be up early and out of Jared's hair, so he had some time alone before he went to work.
"It's okay. I only woke up an hour ago. You needed a good night's sleep. If I didn't know how mad you'd be if I left you here and went to the hospital without you, I would have let you sleep all day." Jared smiled. "Anyway, I have coffee made if you want some and I made pancakes. I know it's late in the day, but I was craving them."
"You didn't need to cook for me." Orson pushed back the covers, and climbed out of bed, then realized he wore nothing but a ragged pair of boxers. He quickly sat back down as his cheeks heated. As he pulled the blanket back over him, he glanced at Jared. "Sorry."
Jared laughed. "Did you forget I've examined you? Don't stress on it. Anyway, I had to cook for myself, so it was nothing to make a little more. Go ahead and wake up. The shower's yours if you want it. I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready." He shut the door still grinning.
Feeling like a fool for being embarrassed when Jared had already seen him as close up as another person could, he shook his head. He wasn't used to sleeping nearly naked. It had been strange to be able to undress and climb into a comfortable bed.
He rolled his shoulders as he stood. He hated to make Jared wait on him, but he couldn't turn down the chance at another shower. He was being spoiled this week with Jared's hospitality. Two showers in a week and more food than he was used to getting in a month. He really needed to be careful not to get used to it. Once he was back on the streets in a few hours, the memory of the bed and comfort would be more haunting than pleasant.
Wanting to hurry, he pulled on his pants and grabbed his backpack, making his way out of the room and into Jared's, trying to ignore the strangeness of being in another man's bedroom and using his bathroom. The last time he'd rushed through it, refusing to think much about it, but this time he paused, taking the time to look around at Jared's things. He didn't touch, just stood at the foot of the bed, and took in the little things that might give him a clearer picture of who Jared was.
There wasn't much there to tell him anything about the man. The nightstand held a lamp and the alarm clock, and on the dresser, was only a bottle of cologne and Jared's wallet. There were several pictures on the wall, most of them looked to be western art, with cowboys chasing after cattle, but one was different. It was a smaller picture frame. Orson moved across the room, drawn to the photo. As he neared, he smiled. It looked like Jared as a teenager, standing beside another guy. He reached out and touched the corner of the frame, surprised to see Jared so young. It was the first personal picture he'd seen around the house. There were no family photos or anything like he'd expect to see. He wondered why that was.
Paying closer attention to the photo, he guessed them to be about sixteen. They were standing in a field with a large barn in the distance behind them. Jared and the other guy were standing at an angle, facing each other, both looking at the other. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought....
"That's Daryl and me years ago. He was my best friend growing up," Jared said from behind him.
Orson turned, embarrassed at being caught snooping. "Sorry, it just caught my attention as I walked by." He hung his head, unable to meet Jared's eyes, hoping he wasn't angry.
"It's okay. I don't mind you looking." Jared stepped closer. "Daryl and I lived close by each other. We grew up together. Used to drive our parents mad how much time we spent together." Jared reached out and ran his finger down the center of the photo. "I think I was fifteen then."
Orson glanced at Jared, seeing a longing look mixed with sadness. It reminded him of the way his mother would look at pictures of her mother who had died years before Orson was born. He sucked in a breath as the pieces slowly connected. He turned to face Jared. "You loved him."
Jared paled and took a step back.
"I'm sorry. It's none of my business." Orson tightened his grip on the strap of his backpack. "I'll just grab that shower." He turned, wishing he'd never paused to look around the room.
He was almost to the bathroom when Jared spoke. "How did you know?"
"What?" Orson turned back to him.
