Detained (32 page)

He’d been here five months, at least two months too long. He’d needed those first months, he was weak and confused still, but all the exercise, the fresh air and being able to hold down food again had kickstarted his system. Then he’d been too scared to call himself recovered, and he wasn’t going out in the world not able to talk properly in at least one language. He’d faked through the last eight weeks, frightened of himself and how different he felt. But enough was enough. This could well be as good as it gets. If he had to find a way to live with how he was now, anxious, irritated, angry, then he’d better make a start.

He couldn’t believe Darcy came back for round two. If it wasn’t for those fucking wheelchairs, he’d have been able to walk through the pain of separating from her. But she’d said his name and it had taken everything he had left not to forget he’d been reborn without worth or control. He wanted to rip his own tongue out for what he’d said to her, and the way he’d said it: deliberately intimidating, insulting, and threatening. But he needed her to go, to forget him, to hate him—the quicker, the harder, the better.

But he’d touched her, and smelled her perfume, and baited her for that kiss he knew she’d give him. That hadn’t been part of the plan. That was too real. He sat on the end of his bed and put his head in his crippled hands. The feeling of holding Darcy overwhelming his emotions. He didn’t understand the sadness that shadowed the anger in his head. She’d walked away, it was what he’d wanted. He should’ve felt grateful for that. He felt like he’d taken a knife to his own chest and killed the best thing he’d ever known.

The only good thing he could say about it was he’d never hurt her again.

When the ever faithful Bo arrived, the first thing Will did was snarl at him for taking too long. Bo wasn’t like Pete. He didn’t wear his emotions on his face, he was hard to read. It made Will want to push Bo even harder to get him to crack. And all that proved was not having a behavioural filter made it disgustingly easy to act like a psychopath. He was checking out of rehab, but he wasn’t thinking of rejoining the world. He was hot and cold, up and down, inside out, and not fit for human consumption.

He had Bo drop him to the house in Luwan and fuck off. He’d fend for himself from here. He hadn’t been to the house in a while and fending for himself meant he’d have to sort out food, which would be interesting. If he walked to the supermarket he’d be stuck with trying to work out what the labels said. If he went to the fresh food market with no language it would be an equally crappy experience. He could pick up a phone and send Bo shopping, call in the housekeeper, or he could start getting used to managing on his own. Starting with shopping for food.

He opened the fridge and leaned in. It was already stocked. That’s what Bo had been doing before he arrived. Shit. He went into the living room, headed for the bar. Empty. It was never, ever empty.
Fuck
. That was Bo too, making sure he didn’t do anything dumb.

He wasn’t hungry anyway. He couldn’t drink himself into a stupor without going shopping. With both hands bandaged he’d be likely to drop every bottle he tried to pick up. He couldn’t read, and TV made his head spin. But he had a pocket full of happy pills he’d swiped off the counter in casualty. They’d be enough to knock him out without dreams for a day, longer if he was lucky.

It was two in the afternoon. He’d never hated himself as much as he did now. He downed the pills and went to bed, even though he knew oblivion was too good for him.

When he woke it might’ve been the same day, the next day or a week later. He could smell food cooking. He had a stunning headache, and his mouth felt like he’d been licking a beach. He sat on the edge of the bed and held his head. On the bedside table where a pile of pills had been there was nothing but an empty glass of water. That meant he’d been waking and dosing again. It could be next year for all he knew.

He made it through a hot shower without falling over, or getting his plaster wet but couldn’t manage to get the bandage off the stitched hand with his teeth. Whoever was out there cooking would come in handy. He stood in the kitchen doorway. He expected Bo, or maybe the housekeeper. He saw Jiao with a large carving knife in her hand.

“Oh God. I’ve died and gone to Shenzhen.”

She dropped the knife and rounded the kitchen bench. She was furious with him. She put her hand on his chest and shoved hard. “You talk now.” She shoved him again.

“You made me crawl all over town looking for you.” She shoved a third time, so he gave a little, took a step back.

“Not where you’re supposed to be in the hospital. Not in the apartment. Not at the office. Not at Pete’s. Not at the villa. I thought you might be dead, and no one remembered to tell me.”

“Why didn’t you ask Bo?”

“You think that lapdog would tell me where you were unless you wanted it? I had to break a window to get in here.”

“You broke in?”

She shrugged. “You don’t answer your phone.”

“I’m sure Pete knew where I was.”

“Peter is in Sydney. He didn’t know you’d checked yourself out. I had to tell him you were here.”

“Sydney?”

“You are the worst ex-boyfriend ever. I’ve had ex’s who pledged undying love, leave their wives, buy me jewels and threaten suicide to get me back, but you—you have to get your face all over the news—what were you doing to that poor man? Get kidnapped, jailed and beaten near to death. Then, as if that’s not enough, you lose your memory and don’t talk for eight months.”

“I did it all just to annoy you.”

Her next shove was more like a slap. “You make me so mad with worry, I want to kill you myself. They wouldn’t let me come, but I couldn’t take it anymore. And so I get here and you’re missing again.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“You stupid, stupid man, you really are brain damaged. You think I wouldn’t throw everything away to know you are all right? I phoned the hospital every day. I leave it for one weekend to call and you disappear.”

With any other woman you might expect tears; Jiao was just warming up. Will knew he wasn’t awake enough to handle her.

“I’ve been here for three days and all you do is sleep like you’re back in a coma. I go in your room and hold my hand over your face to see if you’re still breathing. Anyone could have robbed this place and you’d have slept through it.” She frowned, took a breath. “I think someone did, you have no alcohol.”

He started to laugh.

“You don’t laugh at me.”

His laugh built. It had been a while since he’d laughed.

She slapped his chest. “You have a new face and I’m not sure I like it. Too pretty.”

He grabbed for her hand but forgot he was bandaged up, she danced away.

“
Chee lun sin
.”

He laughed again. “I have no idea what that means.”

“Good.
Sou hai
. That will teach you to forget.” She jabbed him hard in the side.

“Hey.”

“You sit on that stool and eat. Then we talk.”

“I didn’t ask you to come, or cook for me, and I’m not up for talking.”

“It’s not an option.”

“Jiao, I’m not good to be around. I don’t want you here. I’m not the same.”

“Boohoo. Are you superhuman and don’t need food now?” She pointed at a stool. “Sit. Eat.”

He ate, it was good. It took the spinning out of his head. She watched him like he was made of soap bubbles and might pop any minute. When he’d finished she said, “You tell me what you need.”

This was a trap. If he told her to go away, she’d dig in, and he’d never be rid of her. If he told her to stay, she’d remind him he didn’t love her. He knew her moods still but he’d lost the knack of knowing what to say. The unfiltered truth was best.

“I need to be alone.”

She considered. She put food she’d made for reheating in the fridge, cleaned the sink and benchtop and stacked the dishwasher. He had no idea what she was thinking.

“Okay.”

“Just like that?”

She shrugged. “You know what you need better than anyone else.”

“Holy fuck. This is you agreeing with me, easy as pie.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I don’t agree with you. I don’t know you anymore. You said you were different. I can see that. You got knocked down and you don’t want to get up. I understand you’re tired, your head hurts and you’re angry. It’s okay, if this is who you are now, I have to respect that.”

What did she mean ‘didn’t want to get up’? He’d fought for months to be able to stand upright without needing support, to walk without limping, to think without having to wade through layers and layers of cloud, and to talk without speaking in tongues.

“I got up, Jiao. I got up. It took a little while but I got up.”

She leaned on the benchtop and fixed him with chocolate brown eyes. “No, Will, you’re only on your knees, but I understand. It would be very hard.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t feel the same.”

“Okay.”

“I feel this anger, always, here.” He tapped his chest, then ran his hand through his hair, dug his fingers into his scalp. That’s where it lived the anger, the scream—in his head and in his heart.

“Okay.”

He could feel them burn. “What is this with you? You never used to agree with me.”

She gave a woeful little smile. “You’re not you. I’m agreeing with whoever you are now.”

He shook his head, the ache reduced, but still fuzzy. “So you’re going to leave.”

She adjusted the collar of her shirt. He was starting to burn up and she was fussing about her appearance. “Unless you change your mind, yes.”

“I’m not changing my mind.” He’d put her in a hotel till she could get a flight.

“So the decision is made.” Leave no room for her to wriggle a stay of execution.

“Yes.” Jiao stepped out from behind the kitchen bench. She headed into the living room. She called out, “What happened to Blondie?”

Will swivelled around on the stool to face the living room doorway. “Darcy? I guess she went back to Sydney.”

“You let her go.”

“She lives there.”

“Will.”

He got off the stool and walked into the room. “Better for her.”

“Because you don’t love her anymore?”

“That’s right.”

Jiao grinned, her eyes glittered. “I said that woman would ruin you. It’s good to be right.”

He frowned. “She didn’t ruin me.”

“What then?”

“I chose to set her free. It’s better for her.”

“You mean better for you.”

He sat on the butter soft leather sofa. “Yeah. Anything wrong with that?”

She was packing away her iPad. She looked up. “Your life, Will.”

Yes it was. His to rebuild any way he wanted.

“Dr Yang says you need rest and no stress, and you should remember your languages. He says the dyslexia isn’t part of the brain swelling, there is no physical cause. It’s psychosomatic. An entirely emotional problem.”

Will shook his head, felt a jangle of pain and wished he’d kept still. “You spoke to Yang?”

“Regularly.”

He watched Jiao move around the living room, picking up items and putting them in an oversized handbag. She really was going to leave.

“Why is Peter in Sydney?”

She packed a phone charger. “Maybe he’s gone after Blondie. He always wanted what was yours.”

“Funny. Do you know why he’s there?”

“Yes.” She hefted the bag and put it over her shoulder.

“And?”

“Who’s asking?”

Will did an exaggerated look around the room.

Jiao popped a hip, a choreographed ‘you’re really annoying’ gesture. “If it’s Will Parker, CEO of Parker Corporation there’s one answer. If it’s Will Parker, ‘what I need most is to be alone’, there’s another.”

Will stood. He’d noticed a suitcase standing by the door. “Oh I see. I can’t be both?”

“No. You already told me that, by being here, by not looking after yourself, by cutting yourself off. So the answer is, Pete’s in Sydney on business.”

“What business?”

She went for the suitcase and pulled up the handle. “What do you care?”

That stumped him. She was right. That was his old life.

“Bo is outside. He’s going to take me to the airport.”

“You knew I’d ask you to leave.”

She trundled the bag behind her down the hall. “Of course.”

Will followed. “And if I’d wanted you to stay?”

She laughed, put her hand on the doorhandle and turned back to look at him. “They made you prettier, but you haven’t changed that much, Will Parker.”

He followed her out to the front of the house. Bo was parked in the driveway with the seat reclined, snoozing. The two of them had clearly been talking. He tapped on the bonnet and Bo opened his eyes, popped the boot, and got out to take Jiao’s bag.

“I tried to keep her away, Will. I’ll have the window fixed.”

Jiao was already in the car. He wanted to be alone, but this felt wrong. This woman cared about him. So did this man. He wasn’t angry with them but he was upset. It wasn’t the burn of an angry scream in his chest. It was the agitation of sadness. He reached for the passenger side door to open it, but fumbled. He’d forgotten to get help with the bandage.

Jiao rolled the window down. “What?”

He lent down to look in the car. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I’m being difficult.” He looked over at Bo, now in the driver’s seat. He was sorry. The difference between today and the day he checked out of hospital was that he was sad, not angry, sorry, not mad. But he still wanted to be alone.

“I need to know why Peter is in Sydney.”

Jiao and Bo exchanged a look. There were teeth. They were both trying to hide smiles.

“That company you wanted to buy. Avalon,” said Jiao.

“They’re trying to buy you,” finished Bo. “When I come back, want to visit Confucius?”

Will nodded and straightened up. Yes, he wanted to visit the temple. He wanted the hit of its tranquillity, and he had a few favours to ask.

He watched the Audi pull out. He shouldn’t care about Parker. He’d given it to Pete way back in Quingpu, and he’d not wanted to know what was happening to it since. Parker and Darcy. It was the same strategy. He was no good for either of them, so better to be apart than risk further damaging them.