Page 37 of Asystole

It’s the first time I’ve ever said it out loud.

“Here,” Logan says, handing me a can of soda from the snack bar behind him. “You look like you’re two seconds away from needing the crash cart.” As I’m taking a sip, he adds, “Luckily for you, though, I’m an expert in CPR.”

I snort, damn near choking on the carbonated beverage.

“Thank God for that,” I deadpan right as my pager starts blaring in the silence.

A lot of people think it’s strange that the residents still use them, but we have one pager that rotates between us. It would take a lot longer for someone to look up a schedule and see who’s on call and have to find that number than it does just to have one number memorized. The number never changes, but the person who carries the pager does.

“Shit. I gotta go.”

“No, you have to make a call,” Logan corrects, opening the container of food. “You can eat and talk at the same time. I know, because I’ve seen you do it,” he says with a wink.

Something about the gesture sets me at ease. Like it was just human enough to remind me that I’m allowed to have feelings about the toll this job takes. It also brought a small amount of much-needed levity to my psyche.

“Okay,” I agree, dialing the number and placing the phone on speaker before picking up the fork.

When the voice answers, I reply.

“This is Dr. Matthews with gen surg returning a page.”

“Dr. Matthews, just who I was trying to reach. This is Tanisha Long, RN, peds oncology. I have a patient who says you’re supposed to⁠—”

“Oh shit! Tell her I’ll be right there.”

I hang up the phone, shove another forkful of whatever this creamy, delicious meal is into my mouth—truly disappointed that I won’t be able to finish it.

“Logan, I’ve got to go, but can I have the rest of that for dinner tonight? It’s really fucking good.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

Before I think through my actions, I walk back to Logan and pull him in for a hug. It’s not until his arms wrap around me that I realize I’ve gone a long time without being hugged, and the embrace feels really good.

While I still have him trapped against me, I ask, “Any chance you’re up for some cuddling tonight? This feels nice.”

His snort of hot breath hits my neck.

“You and your cuddles.”

“I know. It’s probably not normal, but it totally should be,” I confirm, missing the way Hanlon and I used to platonically drape ourselves across each other during a movie. Touching and being touched just feels nice, and I don’t think men let themselves experience it enough. Especially from another guy.

The strong grip of a man can be comforting in a way the delicate hold of a woman isn’t. Like with Kendra, I’m always the protector. I’m always on alert. Always strong. My guard never fully comes down because she couldn’t manhandle me if she needed to… if I lost control… if I needed to let loose every now and then. And, fuck, letting go every once in a while sounds nice.

I don’t realize my fingertips are burrowing into Logan’s back until I feel him press into me harder, trying to escape my bruising force.

When he speaks, his voice is strained.

“If I promise to cuddle later, will you loosen your grip?”

“Sorry,” I say with a small smile.

“Go take care of whatever you need to take care of, and I’ll take care of dinner when you get in tonight, okay? If you’re not too late, we can even bro cuddle while we catch the game or something.”

I smile because he just assumed I’d be staying with him again.

But the joke’s on me because I was already planning on it, wasn’t I?

Maybe being roommates with Logan would be pretty cool after all.