Precious - Roe Horvat Page 0,1
must have been high to cause so much damage farther down. Travis couldn’t think of any other explanation.
The boy stirred and wrapped his arms around Travis’s neck, burying his face in Travis’s shirt. He shivered and breathed deeply, as if drawing in Travis’s scent. He seemed starved for warmth and human contact.
“Shh, I got you.”
“Cold.”
“I know, sorry.” Relieved that the boy was somewhat conscious, Travis got up. “Not long now.”
He finally reached the car and laid the boy on the passenger seat, then adjusted it so he could lean back comfortably. He tucked the fleece jacket around the boy’s hips and bundled him in a blanket he kept on the back seat for emergencies. Satisfied that the boy was buckled in and covered, fast asleep, Travis returned for the wet camping gear. He stuffed everything into the rucksack, which he swung over his back. The drenched sleeping bag didn’t fit, so Travis grabbed it and hurried to the car.
The boy was asleep for the entire thirty-minute ride to Travis’s chalet. He barely stirred when Travis carried him inside and laid him on the living room sofa.
“Where?” he rasped, eyes still closed.
A definite sign of consciousness. Travis smiled, grateful.
“You’re safe. I’m Travis, and you’re in my house, just on the border of the National Park.”
“Travis,” he repeated quietly as if memorizing.
“Yes, that’s me.”
Warmth, fluids, sustenance.
“Your shirt is wet. I need to take it off.”
The boy nodded slowly, his lashes fluttering. Travis grasped the hem and dragged the Henley off. He found only clear skin and lean muscles, no wounds or bruises.
“Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”
A breath. “No.”
He wrapped the boy in a fluffy blanket and stuffed two pillows under his head and neck. “I’ll bring you something to drink, and then you can sleep it off. Do you want me to call someone? Your parents? A friend?”
“No. No!” He shook his head violently, his hands jerking under the blanket.
“Okay. A drink, then.”
Suddenly a fist closed around Travis’s wrist with surprising strength. The boy’s eyes flew open. They were the color of mountain lakes on a sunny day. Stunning, deep eyes, almost turquoise around the corneas.
“Can’t…can’t stay!”
Chest tender with helpless compassion, Travis smoothed a hand over the boy’s scalp, and the beautiful, disquieting eyes fluttered closed.
“Don’t worry about anything. Nobody can hurt you here.”
Satisfied the boy had calmed down, Travis stood and went to the kitchen. Fluids and sustenance, Travis. Think. He quickly made a protein shake and then grabbed a glass of water too. Halfway to the living room, he spun around, went back to the kitchen, and added a spoonful of sugar to the shake. Fast carbs can’t hurt.
His guest had passed out again, so Travis gently shook him awake. “Drink. C’mon. I’ll let you sleep after that, but you need to drink this.”
The boy sucked on the straw and swallowed. He eagerly gulped down half of the shake.
“Water too. C’mon. Just a little.”
He drank, eyes closed, and then his body went limp.
“Can’t stay here,” he whispered but made no effort to move. Travis had never seen anyone so exhausted.
“Don’t worry about anything but sleeping. You need to get your strength back first. I’ll call a doctor to come and check on you.”
“No! Don’t call anyone. Please, don’t!”
Travis caught the boy’s hand in his and gently squeezed his fingers. With his other hand, he stroked his hair. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
With what seemed the last of his strength, the boy lifted his head. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
“Okay. I won’t. I promise.”
Within a minute, he fell back into a deep sleep. Travis took a moment to study him. Even haggard after what must have been days alone in the woods, his features were beautiful. Full mouth, large eyes swollen with tiredness, freckles on the bridge of his small narrow nose, pronounced cheekbones, and a sharp, elegant jawline. His chin had a shallow, barely noticeable cleft in the center. He had the light tan of someone used to being outside, and his skin was luminous, almost shimmering like satin. He was either too young for beard growth or naturally beardless.
Travis petted his hair for a long time, wishing he could help more. The dark strands began to curl as they dried. Determined to do something useful, Travis brought his first aid kit and cleaned the shallow wounds on the boy’s feet, probably cuts and scrapes from walking barefoot in the river. Then he started the fire in the living room fireplace, even though he never did that in summer.