Page 51 of Asystole

“Hey, guys?” Chase says, addressing Hanlon and Stone, pulling the phone to himself, removing Stone from my line of sight. “I’ve gotta run. But Hanny, I love you, and Merry Christmas to you both.”

He ends the call without waiting for their reply and pushes up on his supporting hand to study my face.

“Talk to me,” he says instead of asking if I’m okay.

Clearly, I’m not.

I sit in silence for a second, willing my pizza to stay down before answering.

“That was the first time I’ve seen him since I left. And it didn’t hurt any less than it did four years ago,” I admit.

“Oh, man. Come here.” Chase sits up and pulls me to him. I go easily, too fucked up to fight him. “We’ve gotta work on getting you to let him go.”

Chase is cradling me against his chest, my cheek plastered to his shirt.

There are worse places to have a meltdown.

“I would if I knew how,” I mumble against him. “The crazy part is that I don’t even know what I’m holding on to. Stone and I were never a thing,” I say, even though I know we’ve already had this conversation.

“But you were there for each other in ways that mattered. Bonds were created and intimate moments happened even if romance wasn’t involved,” Chase says, validating my feelings for Stone in a way even I have failed to do. “You guys were a team, and I can imagine…oh God, if you ever tell Stone I said this, I’ll punch you in the dick.” He takes a deep breath like he has to brace himself for what he’s about to say. “I can imagine that watching Stone do what he does was kind of”—Chase makes a retching noise that makes me laugh—“hot.”

I close my eyes and immediately see Stone in his safety harness and bright red patrol gear, in the back of my chopper, headset on, reading my hand signals before tossing a live explosive from the aircraft. I can still feel the power of the detonation rock the mountain below us. Can still hear his laughter as he triggers another avalanche. Can still sense his awe and wonder at the beautiful destruction we caused every morning.

“Yeah…yeah, it really was,” I admit.

“So, maybe instead of running from your feelings, you should face them head-on.”

“Maybe,” I whisper.

Nothing else is said as our movie continues playing in the background. What started out as a favor for Chase, and a way to help him unwind after a stressful day, has quickly become a moment for my benefit. I squeeze him tighter than necessary, but he doesn’t complain as I dig my fingers into his back, holding him to me. Instead, Chase returns the squeeze, a silent reminder that I’m not alone.

As we lie back down, his breath is hot against my stomach even through my shirt, and about halfway through the movie, his grip on me loosens, and his breathing evens out.

I’m afraid to admit that I enjoy holding onto him like this.

Am I simply trading one hopeless cause for another?

Suddenly needing space, I pat Chase’s shoulder to wake him gently.

“Hey, we should probably head to bed,” I tell him.

He mumbles as he comes to, but once his eyes open and he processes his surroundings, he says sleepily, “Okay. If you need anything, just…I’m right next door.”

I pat his knee as I climb out from under him and off the couch.

“Yeah. Thanks. And thank you for the gifts. Merry Christmas, Chase.”

“Merry Christmas, Logan.”

Chapter 20

Chase

The week between Christmas and New Year’s is weird, like always. Thankfully, Logan and I are both working our balls off this week. Being busy helps it go by quickly.

After a quick scan of Marcy’s medical chart to see her latest vitals and test results, I meet my co-residents and our attending for morning rounds.

Dr. Porter is the attending on call with us today. He’s intimidating as all fuck. The guy’s gotta be in his mid-to-late-forties, but he wears his age like a fucking fashion accessory. He’s all fancy watch, tailored slacks, and chiseled jawline. As we’re walking between patient rooms, he invites everyone to his place for New Year’s Eve.