Page 134 of Asystole

“Hanlon saw our interview,” I tell Logan as he approaches.

“No way! We’re famous,” he says, not understanding.

“Logan, I haven’t told my program I’m leaving. I haven’t found another one that will let me in. If they see that, I’m done. Neither of us will have a job when we get back.”

Before Logan can answer, our phones go off simultaneously.

His is a Boston number I don’t recognize.

Mine is the main switchboard for the hospital.

Fucking hell.

“We should probably go ahead and answer these so we have ample time to get drunk afterward,” Logan says.

Nodding, I take the call.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Matthews, that sounds like quite the save. Asystole is usually a death sentence. I would’ve wagered it to be a certainty on a malfunctioning helicopter over the ocean,” Declan Porter’s stone-cold voice says on the other end of the line.

I swear this man has no emotions.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I stoically reply, “I was trained well.”

“It’s more than that, Chase. You excel under pressure. You think and act quickly when time matters most. You were built for this program.”

“I wasn’t,” I answer quickly. “I mean, thank you for the compliment, but⁠—”

“It was a factual observation, not a compliment,” he corrects.

“Of course,” I deadpan. “Nonetheless, my heart is with pediatrics. Specifically, peds oncology. It brings me joy. Trauma surgery makes me feel dead inside.”

Which is probably why it’s such a great fit for you, I think to myself.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before leaving. I just needed a minute to wrap my head around it.”

“I’ll ask that you complete the current call schedule, as it’s unfair to burden your co-residents with your departure.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, knowing he’s right. It’s only three more weeks anyway.

The line goes dead.

I’ve busted my ass for this man for ten months, and he can’t even say goodbye?

Ugh.

Looking at Logan, he’s wearing a smile as he reaches for a bottle on the shelf next to the TV. The stretch puts his obliques on display, and I can’t stay away anymore.

Moving to him, I drop to my knees next to him, turning his hips to face me and undoing the knot at his waist.

I barely register the words he’s speaking into the phone because I’m overcome with lust for him.

My conversation with Dr. Porter is over, and I couldn’t be happier. This whole taking charge of my life thing is actually pretty awesome.

Running my tongue along the indentation at Logan’s hip, I half expect him to push me away so he can concentrate, but he threads his fingers through my short hair instead.