I do know that. Or at least, I want to.
I need to.
I close my eyes, pressing my forehead against the cool wall, and try to pull myself together.
Try to find some semblance of the person Asher and Jackie and Zay seem to think I am.
The person Xavier saw in me.
When I open my eyes again, Asher is still there, still watching me with that steady, unwavering gaze.
“Okay,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Okay. What do we do now?”
Asher’s mouth curves into something that might be a smile if it wasn’t so grim.
“The first thing you’re doing as interim is moving rooms.”
My stomach drops.
“What?”
“You’re not staying in Zay’s,” he says simply, like it’s already decided.
I blink at him, the words slow to land.
“So I have to sleep in Xav’s room, even though I never have. Why?”
His eyes flick to the wall, toward the chaos of the meeting room, then back to me.
“Because we just painted a target on you. Anyone who didn’t like that vote now knows exactly where you sleep.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice.
“And because if Xavier wakes up and hears you’re sleeping in his brother’s room instead of his—he’ll burn down the entire hospital.”
I choke on a breath.
“Asher—”
“It’s not about romance,” he adds, cutting me off before the panic can rise. “It’s about optics. Rumors are already floating around about you two, and it will seem like Zay is using your position and betraying Xavier if you two are sleeping together, instead of you mourning your man.”
My pulse skitters.
Xavier’s room.
A place I’ve never been allowed into.
A place I’ve only imagined—dark wood and steel, expensive sheets, clean angles, the scent of cedar and sin.
A place that feels like stepping directly into the center of him.
“Come on,” Asher nods toward the door, and I mindlessly follow into the main house.
I can hear the faint echoes of people whispering downstairs, and now I am grateful for the fact that most members live in the bunk hall on the other side of the house, or off the property all together.
The hallway feels too long and too narrow and too quiet, every step echoing back at us like a warning.
Each breath is sharp enough to taste.