Page 84 of Asystole

“Ohmygod, no way!” I say excitedly. “Dude, that’s fucking awesome! I mean, I know you’ll miss her, but what great news!” I slap Chase on the back—partly in celebration, partly just to touch him because he feels too far away—as Kendra pulls her feet out of his lap.

“I’m sorry, you’ll miss her?”

It’s clear Kendra is jealous, which means she doesn’t know Marcy is a child. Understandable, since I made the same mistake, but I’m shocked that Chase hasn’t ever mentioned her. Or maybe he has mentioned her and Kendra just wasn’t paying attention.

“Relax, Ken. Marcy’s a little girl.”

“Oh.” It might’ve been fine if she left it there, but she goes on to pout. “Well, how was I supposed to know that? You haven’t told me anything about her.”

Chase jerks his head back and looks at her.

“It wouldn’t matter if she were a twenty-five-year-old supermodel. I’m with you, Kendra.”

The plate I’m rinsing slips from my hand.

He may be with her, but it’s my mouth his tongue was in on New Year’s… and as hard as I’m trying, I can’t fucking forget it.

Kendra giggles.

“You’re right. I’m being silly. Are you done? I want to take you to bed.”

“I need to help Logan clean up,” Chase says, making me turn around immediately.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’ve had a long day, and I’m basically in the middle of my afternoon. You guys go on ahead.”

“You’re sure?” I swear Chase sends me a pleading look, but I don’t know what he wants from me.

“I’m sure,” I confirm with a nod. “Goodnight.”

I stayed in the kitchen for two hours after they went to bed early this morning just to be sure I wouldn’t accidentally hear any moaning or high-pitched screams—honestly, I don’t know how straight guys stand that theatrical shit.

Cracking an eye and rolling over, I look at the clock and see it’s only one p.m., which means it’s too soon for me to be awake. So, why am I?

Then I hear it.

The unmistakable sound of a voice coming through on speakerphone.

Annoyed as fuck, I throw my covers off and storm out of my room.

Kendra has taken up residence in the living room. She has her laptop open, papers spread everywhere, and she’s conducting her meeting like she’s the only person in the condo.

When I make it to the doorway, I wave my arms to get her attention. I don’t want to be a complete asshole in case it’s her boss on the phone.

She hits a button I presume is mute and then says, “Do you need something?”

“Do I need something?” I repeat in a tone of incredulity. “Yes, I need something. I need to go to sleep so that when I go back to work in two days, my schedule isn’t all fucked up, but you’re out here on speakerphone like you’re holding a press conference.”

Kendra looks me up and down, an expression of disgust on her face.

“Do you come at Chase with this attitude? Maybe you’re the reason he’s been so moody lately,” she accuses.

I should just keep my mouth shut, but this feels like war.

If it is, does that mean I’m fighting for him?

“I don’t have to come at Chase with any attitude because he doesn’t sit in the living room with the volume on full blast while I’m trying to sleep.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get some work done. Speaking of which, you’re interrupting my meeting.”