Broken (7 page)

There’s some kind of commotion occurring around me. I hear lots of different voices, but I focus on Theodore’s. “Call an ambulance,” he says. “I think he’s taken something.”

“I just wanted to cool down,” I say, wondering what all the fuss is about.

The blurry face returns and I try to bring it into focus but I’m too tired. “Shit. You’re bleeding.”

Who’s bleeding?

He can’t mean
me
because I feel fine. To prove it, I scramble into a sitting position, or I
try
to, but the fuzzy face that sounds like Theodore lowers me back down.

“Help is coming. You’ve hurt your head. Don’t move.”

His unnecessary concern angers me and I push myself back up. “I’m fine.”
Jesus. What’s the big deal?
Defiant, I crawl up onto my knees, preparing to stand. Theodore’s face becomes clear and I look him straight in the eye. “See?”

That’s the last thing I remember before everything turns black.

**********

I wake up in an ambulance. “What’s going on?” I ask, scanning my surroundings. I spot Theodore sitting on a foldout chair beside me. “Why are you here?”

“You-”

“Damn. I forgot to call Helen to arrange a meeting on Monday. Where’s my phone?” I try to lift my head but it’s stuck. “I need my phone. Theodore, give me your phone. Wait…is it Monday or Tuesday? I think I’m booked through Monday. Best make it Tuesday. Where are you taking me?”

“Mr Hol-”

“Theodore,
phone!
” I demand.
Why is no fucker listening to me?
I try to reach out but my arms are stuck, too. “I’ve got so many new ideas right now. I need to get home and draw up some plans. I’ll email them to Helen as well. Where’s my phone?”

“Mr Holden,” a guy in a green uniform says, his voice deep and authoritative. I don’t like him already. “I need you to tell me if you’ve taken anything.”

I struggle against the restraints. “Why can’t I move? Get these damn straps off me.”

“Sir, I need you to calm down for me.”

“Yeah? Well I need to get out of this fucking ambulance. I have work to do! Theodore, dammit, where’s your fucking phone?”

I’m trying to kick, punch, wriggle… anything that will give me enough leverage to pull myself up. I’m too hot. I’m too cold. I’m fucking angry.
Why’ve they put me in here?

The guy in green starts talking but I shout over his voice when I see him flicking a needle in front of his face. “What’s that for?” He ignores me, and starts moving it towards my arm. “I don’t need that!” My back is rigid, the veins in my neck bulging as I try to move. The sharp needle pinches my skin and I growl into the air. “Get the fuck awa….”

**********

My eyes are still closed when I wake up again. I’m in a hospital. I can smell it.
What the fuck have I done this time?
I tell my eyes to open but only manage a small flicker. My mouth is dry, my mind foggy, and I know instantly that I’ve been sedated. The knowledge forces a groan to trickle from my throat and within seconds I’m being poked and prodded.

“Welcome back, Mr Holden,” I hear, presumably from a doctor.

Patronising bastard.

“Can you open your eyes for me?”

I’m trying, dick.
Breathing heavily through my nose, I concentrate. With each flicker they open a little wider, making me squint as the harsh, artificial light pierces my pupils. Blinking rapidly, I see four figures surrounding me, their faces a little hazy. I can make out the blue scrubs well enough to know that three of them are medical professionals, but the fourth…

Fuck.

The fourth is Theodore.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Here we go.
I’m frustrated but I know the drill. If I don’t answer they’ll just keep me here longer. “James Holden.”

“Date of birth?”

“Third of April, 1984.”

“Ah, happy birthday.”

Oh, fuck off.
“Is it?”

“Who’s the prime minister?”

“David Cameron.”

“And what year are we in?”

“2015.”

I almost forget Theodore is here until he takes a step towards me. “Get him out of here,” I say, too disgusted with myself to look at him.

“You’re going to need somebody to accompany you home once you’ve been assessed,” the doctor informs me.

“Assessed for what?” Theodore asks, his voice low, timid.

“I said I want him
out
of here!” I demand. I don’t want him to see me like this. It will be all over Holden House by Monday morning. “Get my brother. His number’s in my phone.”

“I’m sorry, sir, we didn’t find a phone on you when you were brought in.”

Shit
. I hear a woman’s voice telling Theodore he needs to leave but I raise my hand. “Wait. Theodore, give me your mobile.”

I can see him clearly now but I refuse to look into his eyes. He steps as close as he needs to, leaving a generous space between us, and hands me his phone. I tap Max’s number into it and pass it back. “Call him,” I say. “And then
leave
.” My tone is clipped. I’m ashamed, and I want him gone.

I don’t watch as he walks out. I
can’t
. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him again. Instead, I close my eyes and continue to answer more inane questions while I wait for my psyche eval.

~Theo~

Outside
, near the ambulance bays, my pulse thuds in my ears as I hit ‘call’. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say because I don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve seen people drunk a thousand times, but James wasn’t just drunk, he was…hell I don’t even know what he was.

“Hello?” a man answers, and I gather a deep breath.

Crap. I don’t know your name.
“Um, hi. Are you James Holden’s brother?”

“Yes. Where is he?” His words are rushed, panicked, almost as if he knows something’s happened.

“He’s in A&E. I-I’m not entirely sure what’s happened. I think he’s taken somethi-”

“Is he okay?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. He seems fine now. The doctor is with him. He fell and hit his head. His wrist is swollen, too, so they’re sending him to X-ray soon.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “I can’t get there for a few hours. I’m in Glasgow, but I’m getting back in my car right now.”

“Okay,” I say, nerves making the word crack on my lips. I haven’t known James long but I know he’s not a patient person and I dread passing on the news.

“Did they sedate him?”

Why would he ask that?
I’m taken aback by how un-surprised he seems by this situation. “Yeah. At least, I think so. They gave him something in the ambulance. He was, um, kicking off a bit.”

“Are you staying with him?”

“Um…”

“I assume you’re one of the friends he was celebrating his birthday with?”

I had no idea it was his birthday until he gave his date of birth to the doctor. It made my chest ache with sadness. No one should spend their birthday alone. Where were his friends? His family? There’s so much more to James Holden than he shows and I want to delve deeper as much as I want to run away.

“Actually, he’s just my boss. I don’t really know him that well.” I never wanted to know him. I still don’t. Only now it’s for different reasons. Now, it’s because I’m scared of what I’ll find.

“I understand,” he says. He sighs down the line, dejected.

“But I can stick around outside until you get here,” I offer, immediately wondering why the hell I’ve said it. James doesn’t want me here and, honestly, I don’t think I want to be here either.

“I’d appreciate that. Thank you. I’m setting off now.”

After telling him which hospital, we exchange goodbyes and I stare down at my phone. There are several texts from Ed wanting to know what’s going on. I’m not sure I should tell him, even if I knew, so I ignore it and tuck the phone back into my pocket.

I walk gingerly back inside the hospital and over to James’ cubicle. I hover outside his curtain for a few minutes, hoping a nurse will pass and I can give them his brother’s message. They all look so busy, though, and I don’t want to interrupt. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I give in and peel back the curtain, mentally bracing myself for James’ anger.

I expect him to yell, but when his gaze meets mine he simply looks away, staring at the wall. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and it’s the first time I’ve seen his tattoos in any kind of detail. One forearm is decorated to the wrist with Japanese artwork, but the other is bare. I wonder if his tattooed arm extends into a full sleeve and a heaviness descends on my chest when I realise I might never find out.

“Your brother’s on his way,” I mutter, looking at the floor. “But he’s in Glasgow and-”

“What the hell’s he doing in Scotland? I only saw him this morning.”

I don’t know the answer, so I just shrug.

“Well I’m not waiting for him. I’ll call a cab when they let me go.”

“You shouldn’t be on your own right now.”

“Don’t pretend to know what I need,” he spits.

I shrink back a step. “The doctor said you might have a concussion, that’s all.”

“He shouldn’t have told you anything without my permission.”

“He didn’t. I, um, I overheard.”

I don’t know why I’m putting up with his bullshit. He’s right. I don’t know what he needs. I shouldn’t be here. I owe nothing to him or his brother. “I’ll ride in the cab with you.” Again, I don’t know why I’ve said it. I didn’t plan to. Things just keep toppling from my mouth without warning or prior thought. Just like when I agreed to ride in the ambulance with him. I should’ve left
then
.

“I promised your brother I’d stay with you.” It’s an excuse but it’s not the reason. I don’t
know
why I’m doing it. Right now, I don’t know
anything.

James sighs, appearing defeated. “Please yourself.” He surprises me. He’s never struck me as a man who relents to
anyone
. “But you can wait outside.”

I nod weakly, even though he’s not looking at me, and make my way to the waiting room. I stop by the triage office and peer through the open door. There’s a male nurse inside, tapping away on his computer, and I knock on the door to bring attention to myself. I tell him who I am and who I’m with and ask if he’ll let me know when James is discharged. He agrees, and I walk away to find a seat.

It’s a busy night and there aren’t any chairs available, so I pace up and down instead. I’m just glad we weren’t brought to my brother’s hospital. I don’t think I could be arsed trying to explain what’s happened, especially when I don’t know myself.

I think back to my past relationships, but I’m not sure I can even class them as that. None of them lasted more than a few weeks and I always thought that was because we had nothing in common, yet James and I most definitely don’t have anything in common and I can’t stop thinking about him. You hear about people, some say soulmates, just
clicking
. You see it in movies, read it in books, but that’s fiction, fantasy. It doesn’t happen in real life.
Does it?

Three and a half hours I wait for news. I keep myself alert by drinking copious amounts of coffee from the vending machine. It tastes worse than the cheap shit in my flat but it keeps me awake.

A few minutes after being told that James has been discharged he emerges from the double doors that lead to the A&E department. He looks at me just briefly and then stares at his feet as he starts walking to the exit. I jog lightly to catch up with him and ask if he’s ready for me to call a taxi.

“Nurse already did it,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

The car is waiting as we step outside. I’m glad because it’s the middle of the night and my arms are freezing. James slides in the back seat while I walk to the other side and get in next to him.

“Spinningfields,” James says to the driver.

Wow
. My annual salary would probably only cover a single month’s rent in one of those apartments.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, my voice low, shaky.

“Fine.”

I nod slowly and leave it at that. Clearly, he doesn’t want me to talk to him, so I keep quiet the rest of the way. When we pull up outside his building James pats down his pockets and sighs. I already know he doesn’t have his wallet. The paramedics couldn’t find anything on his person to officially I.D. him.

“I’ve got it,” I say, pulling a twenty from my own wallet and handing it to the driver.

James is already out of the car, walking ahead. I don’t think he expects it, but I follow him anyway. I just want to make sure he reaches his apartment and then I’ll leave.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he says, punching in a code that opens the main doors. He walks through them and I hover outside. “Are you coming or not?”

“Um…” I jog inside because the doors are about to close, not giving me enough time to make a decision.

I’m so confused. He told me to leave with one breath and asked if I was staying with the next. I’m in the building now so I might as well follow. That’s what I tell myself anyway. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I keep my head down as we ride the lift and my eyes wander to James’ foot which is tapping incessantly against the floor.

When we reach the top floor, he steps out and I trail behind. He’s managed to keep hold of his keys and he teases them out of his pocket, jangling them until he finds the right one. There’s only one door up here, I notice. Surely he can’t occupy the
entire
top floor?
How much money is he actually worth?
A fucking
lot
, I decide when I step into his home. I walk into one
huge
open plan living space. Every wall is painted brilliant white with the exception of one which is exposed brick. It’s very modern – modular sofas, high-gloss kitchen, and a TV bigger than my bedroom mounted on the wall.

“You have a balcony?” It comes out like a question as I tread across the great room.

The far wall consists of floor-to-ceiling windows, the centre panel housing French doors that open up onto a terrace overlooking the city. Manchester looks pretty stunning from up here. Nestled under the dark sky, it’s a sea of lights and artistic buildings. You don’t see that during the day. When you’re scurrying around trying to get from A to B, all you notice are swarms of people, littered pavements, and heavy traffic.

“You don’t have to stay,” James says. He joins me at the window, standing next to me, and I stare at his reflection in the glass.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“I don’t care,” he says, shrugging, but I don’t believe him. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the unusual crack in his voice. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t
ordered
me out yet. Maybe it’s the way he’s standing, shoulders slumped, head down. Or maybe…
maybe
it’s because I don’t
want
to leave yet.

“You got anything to drink?” I ask, clarifying straight after. “Pop, I mean.”

“There’re some cans of Coke in the fridge.”

In the large U-shaped kitchen, I pluck two cans from the American style fridge-freezer. I also notice a selection of Sainsbury’s branded food and I exhale a short, quiet laugh. Of course Mr Moneybags shops at Sainsbury’s. When I turn around, I notice James is missing. My brow furrows, and suddenly I feel very strange standing, alone, in my boss’ flashy penthouse. Feeling awkward, I walk over to the pristine white sofa and take a seat, setting the cans down on the glass table in front of me. I look around and find everything is so clinical. There are no clues to who James Holden is. Nothing personal. No photos, books, DVD’s. It disappoints me.

Is he coming back?
He’s not on the balcony, and all the doors down the hall are closed. Briefly, I contemplate looking for him but I have a nervous feeling in my gut. It seems stupid to wait here indefinitely, so I decide to give him ten minutes to reappear and then I’ll leave.

Just as I’m about to stand and walk out, I hear footsteps approaching. I turn my head and see James walking towards me. He looks freshly showered, his hair damp, and is dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen him before in track-pants and a white vest. The thin material clings to his muscles and it’s the first time I’ve noticed just how fit he is. I try not to get hard, but my damn dick won’t listen to me.

He sits right next to me and my gaze won’t leave his sculpted arms. That Japanese art
does
extend right up to his shoulder, the swirling cherry blossoms winding around his defined biceps. The top of his other arm is inked, too, with some kind of mountain landscape, branches and floating leaves. He’s stunning.

In an effort to get my errant dick to calm down, I look away and sip on my Coke. I can’t see him, and we don’t speak, but I can
feel
his presence throughout my whole body.

“How’s your wrist?” I know it isn’t broken because he’s not wearing a cast, but I can’t think of anything else to say.

He holds it up and flexes it around in a circle. “Just a little swollen.”

I nod, but he doesn’t see because he’s staring at the coffee table. “And your head?”

He shrugs. “Couple of stitches.”

I sigh with an emotion I don’t even recognise. “What happened, James?”

He turns and looks at me through narrowed eyes, his gaze heavy with burden. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said my name.”

Is it?
The intensity of his stare makes my breath hitch and I can’t look away.

After what seems like forever but not nearly long enough, he turns his head away again. “I was drunk,” he says.

“Where were your friends?”

He scoffs like I’ve said something amusing, but I’m certain I remember his brother saying he was celebrating his birthday with friends. “I don’t
do
friends.”

“Isn’t that…” I trail off, searching for the right word.
Sad, boring…
“Lonely?”

“I prefer being alone. It’s better that way.”

He’s always so cryptic, so confusing. I wonder if he does it on purpose, whether he
wants
me to probe further, or if it’s his way of telling me to mind my own business.

“I think I’d go crazy being alone all the time. I’d be lost without Tess.”