Page 95 of Asystole

He’s squinting against the light, and his hair is a mess, but his body is gorgeous. His lack of self-consciousness as he stands here in nothing but his boxers has my dick remembering last night, and before I fully process what I’m doing, I reach for him. We can hear Kendra banging around my room as she packs her things. Despite her exit being a shitshow, I’m sad. Things weren’t always this tumultuous between us. We had a lot of good years and made a lot of good memories together. We’ve just grown apart, and the people we’re becoming don’t fit together as well as the people we used to be.

Logan’s arms wrap around my back, squeezing me as he whispers into the space over my shoulder.

“Hey, it’s all going to be fine. You need to get to work. Lunch is in the fridge. I’ll make sure she gets to the airport safely, and I’ll text you when I get to the hospital. Just make it through today.”

I hate that Logan is working nights and won’t be here when I get back home tonight.

Reading my mind, he says, “This is my last week of nights for three months, and then I’ll cuddle the hell out of you in bed as we fall asleep every night next quarter.”

“That’s not enough,” I whine. “I’m going to want you in my bed every night, not just half the year.” I reach down to cup him through his boxers, and his groan travels straight to my dick.

He pushes his hips into my hand as he says the word ‘go’ on another groan, with his lips pressed against mine.

“What the hell?”

Kendra’s shrill voice makes me jump, but instead of releasing Logan, I tighten my hold on him, afraid I’ll fall if I let him go.

When I stay silent, he speaks up, trying to do damage control.

“This isn’t what it looks like. I’m having…um, trouble with something, and I needed medical advice.”

“How fucking stupid do you think I am?” Kendra fires at Logan. I know she’s hurting and I know I’ve fucked up, but she can’t talk to him like that.

“Ken, it’s my f⁠—”

“Oh, don’t you ‘Ken’ me. How long has this been going on, Chase?” Narrowing her eyes at Logan, she adds, “No fucking wonder you’ve been such an asshole to me.”

Logan’s eyes practically bug out of his head. I can see all the things he wants to say, but he bites his tongue—for my benefit, no doubt—before returning his attention to me.

“Chase, you have to leave. It sucks, but there’s not enough time to work this out right now.” Looking at Kendra, he says, “You’re welcome to stay here and wait for him to get home so you guys can talk. I’m going back to bed so you won’t see me until I leave, either.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Kendra says, hiking her laptop case up on her shoulder as she moves toward the front door, stopping only to add, “Does your dad know you’re playing house with your new boyfriend?”

Her parting shot makes my blood run cold because I never considered any of this as an outcome. I certainly didn’t expect this to be how our relationship came to an end, and I definitely wasn’t aware that Kendra’s vindictive side was so strong. Would she really out me like that? Could I blame her if she did?

Beside me, Logan says, “It’s time for you to go,” in a tone simmering with rage.

When I finally make it to the hospital, my team is already in the operating room. It’s not like I can just barge in there, so I pace at the nurse’s station, knowing a verbal lashing is coming my way.

Breaking up with my girlfriend isn’t an acceptable excuse for tardiness because my absence means the rest of my co-residents had to pick up my slack, and as they come out of the OR two hours later, half of them look at me with concern while the other half are clearly annoyed with me.

When Dr. Porter finally addresses me, I wither beneath his gaze.

“Does this program mean so little to you that tardiness is acceptable, Dr. Matthews?” Dr. Porter asks, drilling me in front of everyone.

“No, sir.”

“And do you think so highly of yourself that your time is more valuable than that of your colleagues or me?”

“No, sir.”

“And if you were due in the OR at seven a.m., where should you be at seven a.m.?”

“The OR,” I reply dutifully.

Pulling me aside with a nod of his head, I follow him away from the others, my heart racing.

When we turn the corner, Dr. Porter keeps a respectable distance and says, “When you showed up to this residency, Dr. Matthews, you were bright-eyed and ready to kiss as much proverbial ass as was needed to come out on top. I don’t know what’s changed since then, nor do I particularly care, but I suggest you reevaluate some things because I’m not convinced you want to be here. If you don’t get it together, you’re going to need to find a different program because there is no room for error, arrogance, or excuses in this one.”