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“No.”

“Then I'd consider this a successful social interaction.”

Ash snorted beside me and immediately pressed a hand to his ribs, which caused every head in the vicinity to turn toward him.

“I'm fine.”

Cinder appeared from somewhere behind Baelor. “If I hear those words more than fifteen times before we land, you're sitting tomorrow.”

Ash glared at him while I made absolutely no attempt to hide my amusement.

“You're enjoying this far too much,” he muttered.

“Immensely, although I'd enjoy it considerably more if you'd stop making Cinder threaten to bench you.” The flight to Vegas took less than two hours, and Ash slept through most of it with his head against my shoulder.

Nobody pretended not to notice that either.

There had been a time when letting my teammates see how much another person mattered to me would've terrified me. Not because I cared whether they knew I wanted a man, but because I'd spent fifteen years believing that allowing anyone close enough to matter was dangerous. Melanie had demonstrated exactly how easily attention could become obsession, and my mother's death had taught me the cost of believing I could be loved without consequences.

Ash had spent years hiding for a different reason.

His father weaponized anything he cared about.

Yet somewhere between Denver and Vegas, we'd both apparently decided to stop hiding from the people who mattered.

When the bus reached the hotel, room keys were distributed in the lobby. I took mine, Ash took his, and then we headed toward the elevators together without discussing what would happen when we reached them.

Dante watched us.

I could practically feel the effort it was costing him to remain silent.

He lasted until the elevator doors closed.

“So are we all still pretending we don't know what's happening, or has there been an official change in policy?”

Ash leaned carefully against the wall and regarded him with weary resignation. “I have bruised ribs, Dante, and I'm supposed to avoid anything that makes them hurt.”

“I know.”

“Then you should consider very carefully whether whatever you're about to say is funny enough to justify Max killing you when I laugh.”

Dante looked at me.

I smiled pleasantly.

He nodded. “Excellent point. I support whatever this is and have no further questions.”

Keegan made a suspicious choking sound behind us.

The elevator stopped at Ash's floor, and when he stepped out, I followed without hesitation.

Nobody asked where I was going.

More importantly, Ash didn't either.

By the time I'd showered, Ash was already in bed wearing sweatpants and one of the team shirts, propped against enough pillows to satisfy even Cinder's increasingly tyrannical instructions. His ribs had stiffened during the flight, and fatigue had begun dragging at him again, but he looked more settled than he had this morning.

Technically, my room was three floors above us and my bag was still sitting in it.