Page 7 of Babe
A loud, pained groan reached my ears just as I was turning off the stove eye. Quickly, I turned and rushed up the stairs. It’d been about four hours since I’d brought the boy home with me, and every fifteen minutes, I’d been checking on him, waiting with bated breath for him to open those eyes and look at me so I could see what color they were. So I knew he was okay. So I could determine if he needed more care than what I could give him.
In mere hours, I’d become extremely protective of him, despite not even knowing his name. I’d memorized every feature on his pretty face, and now, I was desperate to hear his voice. See his eyes. Know if he was sweet or bratty.
When I emerged into the loft, blue eyes stared back at me, filled with pain and confusion, and he was cradling his head in his palm, looking a little green.
Those eyes were my fucking undoing.
“Hey,” I rasped, easing down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Good to see you awake.”
“Where am I?” he croaked, his voice rough with sleep and a lack of water. Reaching over, I grabbed the glass of water I’d made a couple of hours ago and held it to his lips. He grimaced and pulled the glass from me, holding it up to his mouth with a shaky hand. Some of the water spilled onto the blankets piled around his hips, but I didn’t say a word. I did have to bite back a smirk though.
He was a little brat. Just my fucking type.
“You’re in my home. I was out hunting and found you on the ground. You were unconscious, hypothermic, and bleeding from a head wound.”
He frowned like he was trying to remember what happened, but it was clear he was drawing a blank. He glanced around the loft before looking back at me. “Where is your home?” His voice was a bit standoff-ish and rude, but it didn’t bother me. He was in pain and confused. Who would be nice in unfamiliar settings? Especially when part of their memory was gone?
“It’s in the mountains.” I wanted to touch him—comfort him—but kept my hands to myself. “Do you remember anything about last night?”
He shook his head, then grimaced, his already pale face paling even more. He moaned low in his throat, his eyes shutting. I gripped his arm when he swayed, and he snapped his eyes open, staring at my hand until I dropped it, worried about his reaction. But then, surprising me, he snapped his hand forward and latched onto mine, holding it, something akin to wonder residing in his eyes as he stared at our joined palms.
I frowned, running my eyes over his face as I slowly took the glass from him. His other hand immediately clamped around my wrist, and he stroked it and my palm with reverence, like touching someone was an entirely new and foreign concept to him. And something in my chest broke. What had this boy gone through?
“I can touch you,” he breathed, looking up at me with a mix of wonder and trepidation. Like he was both excited and terrified at the prospect of touching someone.
“Yes, you can touch me,” I said gently, trying to sort out whatever was going through his head.
He licked his lips, and my gaze dropped to them before flicking them back up to his eyes. He shook his head, then winced. “I just… normally, I can barely stand to touch anyone,” he explained. “Or have anyone touching me. But you…” He shrugged one shoulder, letting his words trail off.
I softly smiled at him, warmth sliding through me at his confession. “You can touch me whenever you want, sweet boy. What’s your name?”
He stared at me for a moment. I waited patiently. He was obviously cautious, especially since he didn’t know me. I was a stranger, and he was in a strange home. “You tell me your name first,” he finally said.
I chuckled. He was a little force to be reckoned with. “Gunner Matthews. Former Marine.”
He screwed his nose up. “Of course,” he muttered. “And let me guess, you escaped to the mountains to live like a wild animal away from society because you can’t stand people anymore?”
I barked out a surprised laugh. He was being bratty and snarky, but fuck, I loved it. He had the wrong man if he thought he was ever going to truly rile me up. I was a Daddy through and through, and I loved bratty boys. I would never try to tame a brat. Being bratty was part of their personality.
“I like going into town,” I told him. He rolled his eyes. “And I don’t mind people. But I also like solitude. I’m far enough up the mountain that no one bothers me, and I’m close enough to town if I need anything or if I just feel like being out and about.” His nails bit into my skin for a moment, but I didn’t even flinch. He soothed the sting immediately after, stroking his fingertips over the abused skin. “Now, your name?”
He sighed. “Ace,” he said, not giving his last name. He swayed a moment, and I gripped his shoulder, holding him up. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
I snatched the trashcan from beside my bed and held it up just as he emptied his stomach. Hot tears streaked down his pale face once he was done, and he covered his face, like he was trying to hide from me. God, it made my heart hurt. He should never feel ashamed for being sick.
“Hey,” I said gently, setting the trash can back on the floor. “Easy, sweet boy. It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot, and your head injury seemed pretty bad. Just breathe.”
“Stop looking at me,” he croaked, his voice thick with tears.
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “I’m not doing that, Ace baby. Look at me.”
“No,” he snapped before he sniffled.
I placed my hand on his thigh. He jerked in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. “Ace, look at me,” I commanded again, my voice a bit firmer this time.
“Fuck off.” His voice was muffled by his hands, but I heard him loud and clear. He clearly didn’t feel good. I knew he was in pain. And he was lashing out. Whatever this boy had been through, he was still struggling to cope with it all. And he’d obviously been neglected, too. The thought of someone neglecting him made me… murderous.
“What we’re not going to do is be a dick because we’re hurting and we don’t feel good,” I told him sternly. That made his head snap up, and his pupils dilated the slightest bit. I cupped his damp cheek and swiped away some tears, my eyes steady on his. “Let’s get some soup and crackers in your belly, and then, you can come right back up here and snuggle beneath all these warm blankets and get some more rest, okay?”