Page 58 of Asystole

Logan licks his lips and flashes me a smile, clearly curious to see how I’m going to answer this.

“No, we did come together. Logan is also a friend of mine.”

“Mmm,” she hums. “No Kendra for the holidays?”

Hearing my girlfriend’s name sours my mood, and I give a curt “No” as an answer.

“Well, I’m glad you came anyway. This place is incredible, huh?” Sarah asks, obviously changing the subject based on my tone.

My skin starts to itch the more she watches me.

“It really is,” I agree before placing my hand on Logan’s back once again to steer him toward my other co-residents for introductions. “If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to make the rounds.”

“Of course,” she says, waving her champagne flute toward the others.

As soon as we turn from the entrance hall into the formal living room, I set the champagne flute down. I’ve never been a fan of the bubbles.

Guiding Logan around the room, I introduce him to everyone and relearn all my co-residents’ spouses’ names.

Logan fits in so easily, making everyone laugh and understanding most of the jargon these boneheads can’t help but use in every fucking conversation.

Logan asks all the right questions and has answers for all of theirs.

Before long, we’re summoned for dinner. The table is so huge, all twelve chairs fit easily with five along the sides and one at each head, accommodating our party and their plus-ones. Only half of our group is here tonight since the other half is on call at the hospital.

To my dismay, Sarah finds herself in the chair next to me, forcing Logan to the end directly opposite Dr. Porter, who raises his glass in a toast as a hired server moves about quietly.

Chatter happens easily, and multiple conversations are happening at once around the large table, but I can’t help but notice the way Dr. Porter keeps drawing Logan into his conversations, or the way he pays attention to Logan without blinking whenever Logan speaks. Everyone is riveted by the pilot.

I mean, they should be, but I wasn’t expecting to have to share tonight.

Picking up on the same vibe, Sarah places her hand on my thigh and leans in to whisper, “Looks like Dr. Porter’s highly interested in your friend.”

Sweat breaks out along the nape of my neck.

I don’t want Sarah touching me.

I hate that Kendra and I are fighting.

And I have no fucking clue as to why I’m feeling possessive over Logan.

Sliding my chair away from the table—and Sarah’s hand—I politely excuse myself and ask for directions to the restroom.

I do my best to follow them down a dark hallway. The door to an actual fucking library stands ajar, and I can’t help but peer inside at the stone hearth and real chimney. It’s dark in there now, but I bet when a fire is going, it’s the coolest room in the house.

Finally arriving at my destination, I plant my hands on the edge of the sink and hang my head.

I’m exhausted, just like everyone else here, but unlike everyone else here, I don’t have a great support system. My best friend in the whole world is two time zones away. My girlfriend is pursuing her own dreams eleven states below me. My parents only call to check in once in a blue moon, and then it’s only to make sure I’m taking residency seriously—as if there’s any other way to take it—and I’m so busy, my only friends are my coworkers, which probably isn’t healthy.

Except for Logan.

Which explains why I’m not thrilled that Dr. Porter is hogging all his attention tonight. That realization makes me feel somewhat better. Like, I’m not going crazy.

Maybe after dinner, I can show Logan the library and just have a second to breathe.

Returning to the dining room, I squeeze the back of Logan’s neck gently in a friendly hello, needing to touch him.

He turns and flashes me a smile.