Page 48 of Asystole

“For the relationship?” Logan clarifies, “Probably not. But for you?” He shrugs a shoulder and makes a hmm noise. “Might not be such a bad thing.”

I try not to perseverate on his words.

This is Kendra we’re talking about. We’ve been together forever.

“I think I didn’t think about her because I know we’re not allowed to live together, so I can’t buy a place with her right now anyway.”

Instead of saying anything, Logan just nods slowly, like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.

Slapping his knee, I push thoughts of Kendra to the side. I still have four and a half years here. That’s plenty of time to buy something with Logan. Then, once residency is over, I can sell him my half or something.

“So, what do you say? Want to try to find a place that’s ours?”

“You’re forgetting one major thing, Dr. Matthews.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Neither of us has time. Especially since after this week, I have to switch to the night shift for three months. But I’m being ungrateful,” he adds hastily. “Thank you for the lamps. They’ll make our current space much nicer.”

It wasn’t a no.

Chapter 19

Logan

‘Nesting, my mom called it.’

Chase’s words replay over and over in my head. There’s no way he knows he’s waking desires in me that went dormant a long time ago.

But as nice as playing house with Chase sounds, I already know I’d end up wanting everything that goes along with the game, including things he can’t give me. Things that, until very recently, I’d given up hope of ever finding.

Chase grins, and my heart does this weird tripping thing.

“Okay, now open the other one,” he says, sitting on the edge of his seat like a kid.

I can tell it’s a frame of some sort, and I’m curious to see what Chase thinks I’d like enough to hang on my wall.

When I tear the paper away from the glass, my breath catches in my throat.

It’s an abstract art piece. Swirls of grays, blues, and black litter the canvas. A yellow-orange glow along the bottom edge softens the chaos in a way that makes it almost peaceful. It looks a lot like a snowstorm raging in the headlights of my chopper. It’s as though the chaos is inevitable and calls you to submit.

It’s an oil painting, and the raised paint has me reaching my hand forward to trace the ridges. I half expect the canvas to be cold to the touch.

“This is the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.”

I can’t take my eyes off it to look at Chase, but I hear the relief in his voice.

“Really?” When I remain quiet, too stunned to speak, Chase continues. “I know it’s a little morbid, but it reminded me of the night we met.”

“Jesus, Chase. I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m glad you like it. Thanks for letting me crash with you,” he says, knocking his shoulder into mine, finally snapping me out of my daze.

“Yeah, man. Of course. Feel free to move the rest of your stuff in whenever,” I stutter.

“I figure I have a little bit of time. Baby’s not due for eight months. But it would be nice to sleep in a bed where my feet don’t hang over the edge.”

“I told you to take my bed!” I yell.