The room was some kind of home gym or office, I couldn't tell in the dim lighting. What I could see clearly was Xander, standing by a small kitchenette area I hadn't known existed, wearing gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

No hospital gown or bandages or sign he'd just been in a car accident yesterday.

"What are you doing here?" I asked sharper than I intended. "You're supposed to be at the hospital."

He turned, unsurprised to see me. Like he'd been expecting me to show up. "I checked ...