Page 44 of Asystole

But just to have a little fun, I preheat the oven and change into my flight suit.

What the hell? It’s Christmas. I’ll play along.

Before popping the pizza into the oven, I rearrange the pepperonis into a Christmas tree because making Chase smile after a long day makes me feel good.

As I’m arranging the processed meat circles, my mind goes back to last night. I can’t get it out of my head. How sweet he was to Marcy and her mom. That little girl looked at Chase with stars in her eyes, and it was clear she and Helen both think Chase hung the moon. He was so good with her.

It was a glimpse of something I’d long given up hope for.

A family.

Kids of my own.

A partner to share it with.

I shake my head because wallowing on Christmas isn’t the vibe I’m going for.

Fifteen minutes later, I hear the lock on the front door unlatch, and suddenly, I’m nervous.

What if I’m taking this too far?

Looking down at my flight suit, I begin to panic. What if Chase thinks I’m coming on to him? Am I coming on to him?

Jesus, these lines are blurry.

But I don’t even have time to race to my room before the door swings open wide, and Chase lets out a low whistle as he sets his work bag on the floor and takes his heavy jacket off, hanging it up in the small foyer closet.

“Damn, Kirkland. If I’d known you were gonna take my preferences that seriously, I would’ve been more creative.”

I still can’t tell if the fucker’s joking, so I laugh it off.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get you anything for Christmas, so I thought giving you fodder for your yank-bank was the least I could do.”

Chase laughs, and I move into the kitchen to stop the beeping timer. He’s hot on my heels as I set the tray with the pizza on the stove.

“Christmas pizza?” he asks, a tone of awe in his voice as he peers over my shoulder.

“Um, yeah? Isn’t that what we talked about?”

“We did. It’s just that most people don’t take me seriously unless I’m at the hospital because it’s not a group that understands medicine and humor can go together, so I have to hide my personality a lot of the time.” Chase moves closer and fingers the zipper of my flight suit. “So, you taking my requests seriously is like a gift all in itself.”

Oh.

“Well,” I hedge. “I happen to like your real personality. And tonight, we’re having Christmas pizza, so go change and get comfortable,” I say, moving to grab the pizza cutter from the counter before I grab him instead.

As Chase walks toward his room, his phone starts ringing. My place is so small I can hear every word he speaks.

“Hey, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.” There’s a pause, and then I hear his tone change as he says, “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I just haven’t had a second to breathe all day.”

He doesn’t shut his bedroom door, so I move closer, eavesdropping again like the stalker I’m becoming where Chase is concerned.

“Yes, I know you’re busy, too. And yes, I know you made time to text me, but I don’t think you understand. My brain is processing a thousand details all day long. Ones that have serious consequences if I fuck up and forget one. I can’t be worried about a Merry Christmas text when I’m in the OR responsible for maintaining good visibility through blood and saline.” After another pause, he sighs and says, “No, I’m not saying my job is more important than yours; I’m just trying to explain why I didn’t text you earlier.” I hear his bedframe squeak as he sits down.

I don’t want to interrupt, but I hate hearing him sound so dejected and beaten down. Especially after he came home voicing that he spends all day pushing down his wonderful, bright personality just so people take him seriously. Can’t everyone just give the guy a break? It’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake.

I rap my knuckles on his door and move into the opening.

“Hey, Chase, dinner’s ready,” I tell him.