Page 23 of Asystole

“Yeah, okay. Makes sense,” he agrees. “I mean, I know it’s like thirty chest compressions to two breaths, but there’s always so much going on. Someone has to get the AED, but what if there isn’t an AED? What if the victim is choking? If it’s a kid, you do something different, right? I can’t keep it all straight in my head.” Looking forlorn, he adds, “I never had to because there were two flight nurses. I’m afraid only flying with one means I’m about to be more hands-on with people in critical condition than I ever have been before.”

I grip Logan’s shoulders to slow his spiral.

“Logan, relax. I’ve got you. Let’s break it down. If a person isn’t breathing, they need air. If they have no heartbeat, they need someone to give them one. If they aren’t breathing and they have no pulse, just remember, you can live longer without oxygen in your lungs than you can without blood to your brain. So always start with the compressions.”

Logan nods, but I’m not sure how much of this is actually registering.

It’s late, and he’s clearly still upset from the events of today; therefore, it’s probably not the best time for him to fully capture all this information, but I understand his need to feel like he’s being proactive.

Standing, I shrug out of my dinner jacket and begin unbuttoning my shirt.

“What are you doing?” Logan asks.

“Helping you learn CPR,” I reply, lying down half-naked on his carpeted floor. “Come here,” I tell Logan.

“Jesus Christ. You’re huge,” he says, making me grin.

“Why, Logan, are you suggesting you find me attractive?” I tease, throwing his words from our first night out back at him as he gets on his knees beside me.

“You’re not really my type, Matthews,” he says, using my words against me.

For some reason, it makes the back of my neck warm knowing he remembers that night as well as I do.

I laugh and shake my head, clearing the thought. It’s time to get to work. I have an early start tomorrow, and I take the call pager back at seven a.m., so I can’t be here all night.

“Okay, the first step is always checking for scene safety. If you’re injured or dead, you can’t help someone else.”

“Scene safety, got it,” Logan echoes.

“Next is sort of multiple things at once. Shout for help if people are around and initiate the emergency response system. That basically just means tell someone to call nine-one-one and get an AED.” Grabbing his hand, I bring it to my neck. “While you’re yelling at people, you’ll want to watch my chest to see if I’m breathing and feel here for my pulse.”

Logan goes quiet as soon as his fingertips hit my skin. His concentration is endearing. He starts breathing faster, and I’m shocked that the prospect of CPR would make him so nervous, considering what he does for a living.

“Hey, man. Relax. This is a breeze. You’ll have it memorized in no time.”

“Memorized. Right,” he says, making me laugh as I guide his hand between my pecs next, showing him the correct placement for chest compressions.

Chapter 9

Logan

This was a mistake.

Although, to be fair, I didn’t expect Chase to end up half naked on my living room floor.

I wasn’t lying when I said he’s not my type, but his inkless skin and broad shoulders suggest maybe he’s more my type than I thought.

Chase releases my fingers, and to my absolute horror, they remain glued to his skin.

He wags his eyebrows at me.

“Not your type, huh?” the perceptive bastard says with a smug smile.

“Shut it,” I grumble, pulling my fingers back, making him laugh.

“Okay, back to business,” he says. “I want you to do a couple rounds of thirty compressions and two breaths just so you get a feel for it. It’s one thing to say it, but it’s a whole different beast when you have to actually do it. It’s more exhausting than you think… only, don’t really hammer away on my chest. I’m partial to my ribs and sternum,” he says seriously. “Bend your elbows to absorb the blow. For the breaths, tilt my head back and pinch my nose, but obviously don’t blow into my mouth, or you could cause air to leak into my chest cavity.” When I don’t move, he taps my thigh. “Come on, Logan. I don’t have all night. Lace your fingers together with the palm of one hand on the back of the other and place the heel of your bottom hand right here,” he says, practically pulling me on top of him.

Get your head in the game, Logan, I chastise myself before finally doing as Chase instructs. I’m working hard to focus on the mechanics of the movements and not on the mountain of muscle beneath me as I pretend to give thirty rapid chest compressions.