Page 28 of Asystole

“Call me Chase, Helen. And I know I don’t, but nothing would make me happier.”

Helen nods as a nurse knocks, making Helen’s attention swing to the door, her brow furrowed in pain for her daughter.

“Please don’t wake her. She’s only been asleep for thirty minutes, and she was so tired,” Helen pleads.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Evans, doctor’s orders,” the nurse says in a cold tone that makes me bristle as she moves toward Marcy.

I block her path.

“Marcy’s next dose has a window in which it can be given. As long as it’s taken within four hours of her last chemo treatment, it’s effective. It doesn’t have to be given right this second,” I tell the nurse, who’s looking at me like, who the hell do you think you are?

Keeping her narrowed eyes on me, she uses an unnecessarily condescending tone when she says, “With all due respect, you’re a general surgery intern, and this is pediatric oncology,” implying I don’t belong here.

“And with that same respect,” I calmly reply, “the letters on my badge still outrank yours. You’re welcome to call the peds oncology attending and tell him the decision was mine, but my guess is he’ll be more pissed that you’re wasting his time than he will be that a gen surg resident made the call since the medicine will be administered in the appropriate window.”

Her jaw clenches in frustration because she knows I’m right.

I hate being an asshole, but what I hate even more is when kids, especially this kid, become a to-do item. This nurse is trying to make medication rounds at the same time for everyone so she can put her feet up for a while, not because it’s what’s best for the patient.

Turning to Helen, she says, “Gloria is on night shift. I’ll make sure she knows to swing back by.”

“Thank you,” Helen whispers. Once the nurse is gone, Helen looks at me. “How did you know that about her medication?”

I grimace because technically Marcy isn’t my patient, which technically means I’m committing a felony every time I read her medical chart. I don’t snoop. I just look at her lab values to see how she’s doing.

I rub my hand across the back of my neck.

“I, um, I check in from time to time…on her chart…just to…”

“It’s okay, Chase,” Helen says. “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

Checking my watch, I realize the ordeal with the nurse took time I didn’t have, and now I won’t have time to run home and change before I need to be at the steakhouse for journal club.

“I’ve gotta run, but if they give you any trouble or try to wake her in the next three hours, call me, okay?”

Helen nods, and then I’m racing down the hall.

Chapter 11

Logan

The night Chase came over really put a couple of things into perspective for me. One, it’s been too fucking long since my body craved the touch of another man. And two, I’m going to embarrass myself and possibly ruin the only budding friendship I’ve managed to make in the four years since moving out here if I don’t get laid sooner rather than later.

I’m holding on to the hope that maybe it wasn’t Chase at all. Maybe it was just my body finally waking the hell up and getting on board with getting over Stone.

Tonight is the perfect night to test that theory and finally circle back to the app profile I’d made a few weeks ago, because back in Ricochet, they’re gearing up for the annual Christmas party at Summit, and I’m in dire need of a distraction so I don’t drive myself insane thinking about Stone parading Hanlon around in front of everyone with his arm possessively around his fiancé’s waist.

Tonight, I’m meeting Raul, a columnist for a cooking magazine. The dark hair and dark eyes on his profile picture are definitely what attracted me to him, but thankfully, he doesn’t look anything like Stone. His skin is certainly more olive-toned than Stone’s, and his eyes are a different shape. I almost passed when I saw he had a fear of heights listed, but figured, what the hell? I’m not looking for a marriage proposal, just a night to blow off some steam.

Though I’m second-guessing everything about this as I pull up outside the restaurant. I want to go back to my condo and hide… and that pisses me off. I’m mad at Stone for breaking me, but I’m madder at myself for letting him.

Deciding enough is enough, I shut the engine off and make my way to the front doors.

We said we’d meet at the bar, and it doesn’t take long before I spot the unmistakable paisley-patterned shirt he said he’d be wearing.

I smile to myself.

Stone would say that’s the ugliest shit he’s ever seen.