Page 45 of Asystole

Looking up, he mouths thanks.

“Kendra, I have to go. Yes, so soon. My roommate made dinner for me, and I don’t want it to get cold.” I’m almost back to the kitchen when I hear him say, “I know. I love and miss you too.”

I’m pretty sure the pit that just opened up in my stomach is simply because Chase has someone to love—even if she’s being kind of a cunt right now—and I’m still on my own.

“Want to eat in the living room?” I ask, hearing him come into the kitchen a few minutes later.

“Sure.”

When I turn to hand him a plate, I see one large wrapped box and an even larger wrapped flat rectangle in the living room behind Chase.

“What are those?” I ask as he and I grip the same plate on opposite sides.

“Just something I picked up as a thank you for letting me crash here,” he says, like it’s no big deal.

“Chase, you didn’t have to do that. I know you’ve been busting your ass. The last thing you needed to be worried about was finding me a thank-you gift.”

He lifts one shoulder.

“That’s kind of why I wanted to do it. You’re like the only person in my life right now who doesn’t expect something from me.”

Chase’s cheeks turn a deep red that almost matches his hair.

Fuck.

I want to kiss him.

“What do you say we eat this Christmas pizza and then have some Christmas cuddles?” I ask, feeling like he could use someone to comfort him tonight. But when his eyes get wide, I worry that maybe I’ve said the wrong thing.

“How do you know about Christmas cuddles?!” he practically shrieks. “Have you talked to Hanlon?” he asks excitedly.

“What? No. I didn’t know they were a thing. I just figured they were like Christmas pizza, you know…like, regular cuddles but with Christmas sweaters or something?”

“Oh, it’s even better,” Chase says, making me shake my head. I don’t bother hiding my smile.

“Okay, Dr. Matthews, let’s hear it.”

“Christmas cuddles are done under a Christmas blanket while watching a Christmas movie.”

Is this holiday over yet? I silently wonder.

The last thing I need is to be squished against Chase’s thousand-degree body on the couch, snuggled under a blanket where hands can roam while eyes remain ignorant.

If I were to stroke Chase’s hip, would he let me?

After the last taste of having my hands on him, I’m realizing he isn’t the only one starving for physical touch. But he and I don’t respond to it the same way, and that will most likely lead to one of us getting hurt… namely, me. And then I’ll have to run again.

“Shit,” Chase says, his voice bringing me back to the present. “I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“No,” I lie. “No, I’m good. Just thinking about going back to work tomorrow. But that can wait until after Christmas cuddles,” I say, hoping like hell he can’t tell how strained my smile is.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

Am I sure?

“Absolutely. You’ve had a long day. Let’s chill and cuddle like grown-ass men,” I tease.

Chase takes our plates and heads into the living room as I follow with drinks.