Page 85 of From Beijing, With Love

“I couldn’t care less about the stupid deposit. Get on the back of the bike. Now. Or I’m leaving you here.”

Daniel bit his lip. “Sorry.” He straddled the rear rack of Yang’s bike without touching him, as if Yang was contagious. Only when the bike tilted sideways under their collective weight did Daniel hold on to Yang’s waist.

When they eventually arrived at the exit, Yang didn’t even bother to collect the deposit for his own bike. He ordered them a car as he shepherded Daniel down the stairs, past curious glances.

Once they were in the car, he collapsed into the back seat and felt the last ounce of adrenaline leave his body. Left behind was that mix of confusion and hurt he’d felt before the accident. Closing his eyes, he sank back into the worn leather seat as they rode in silence. He needed this day to be over.

“Can we talk? Please?” Daniel asked as the car pulled to a stop in front of the hotel.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing again.”

When panic set in on Daniel’s face, Yang discovered that he could, in fact, feel worse than he was already feeling. He let out a sigh. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

As he watched Daniel limp out of the car, one word popped into Yang’s head—xinteng. It didn’t have an apt equivalent in English. The literal translation was heart hurt. That was all he could feel as he looked at Daniel, with the dirt on his white polo and the dried blood caked on his leg. It didn’t make sense, because his heart shouldn’t ache for someone who didn’t want it. It should know better.

“Do you want me to call Poppy?” Yang asked after getting the first-aid kit from the hotel receptionist.

“Don’t bother. She said she’s going to be out late.” Daniel held his hand out for the kit. “I can do it myself.”

Yang frowned. “Not a chance.” Holding back another sigh, he led the way toward the elevator. Wordlessly, Daniel followed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENDaniel

Daniel had fucked up. But for some reason, Yang was still there, sitting beside him on the tub’s edge.

“I can do this myself,” he said, looking everywhere but his bloodied knee. He gripped the edge of the tub tighter. This would be a terrible time to faint. Or vomit. Or both.

“I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here,” Yang said with enough chill in his voice to bring back the ice age.

That couldn’t be true, because Daniel wanted Yang there. He wanted to somehow fix his royal screwup tonight. And after that, he would very much like to crawl under his blanket and die (metaphorically speaking only, which meant this leg situation needed to be dealt with).

For what it was worth, Yang seemed to know what he was doing. He washed his hands with a thoroughness Daniel hadn’t known anyone other than him employed. The whole thirty Mississippis. Grabbing hold of the handheld showerhead, he adjusted the water until it was only a gentle trickle. “I’m going to clean your wound, okay?”

The water that trickled down from Daniel’s leg was a shade of blood brown, making him wince with nausea. He looked away with a sharp inhale. Yang pulled the stream away. “Is it too hot?”

“No. It’s just that … I’m not great with blood.”

“And you were planning on dealing with this all by yourself?” Yang’s brows were knitted so tightly together that it was going to give him permanent frown lines. When his eyes met Daniel’s, he looked defeated. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. Look, I’m …”

“You’re what?” Daniel asked when Yang didn’t continue.

“I’m exhausted. Confused.” Yang focused his gaze back on Daniel’s knee. Unwrapping a new bar of soap, he worked it into a lather between his palms. Then he brought his soapy hand to the wound with a gentleness that Daniel didn’t deserve.

“Why are you still taking care of me after …”

“After what?” Yang looked up at him then, his voice hard and challenging, nothing like his touch. “I don’t even know what really happened on that wall, because you won’t tell me. And if you say nothing one more time—”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, because he wasn’t allowed to say nothing. He held the truth back, hugged it close. He couldn’t say it now after he’d fucked everything up.

Yang turned off the water. “I’m going to bandage up your knee and be on my way.”

“Is this it, then?”

Yang’s lack of an answer was an answer all in itself. He held out a hand and helped Daniel out of the tub. With Daniel seated on the bed and the content of the first-aid kit dumped over the duvet, he dressed Daniel’s knee with the care of someone who actually gave a damn. But when it was all finished, he strode toward the door like someone who couldn’t wait to get away.

Someone who was just … done with him.

This couldn’t be the end. Daniel shot up from the bed, cringing as the gash on his knee throbbed from the sudden movement. He grabbed Yang’s hand like he had done on the first day they met.