Page 56 of Asystole

“She’s mad that I’m letting Jackson and his girlfriend take over the apartment. She says she appreciates that I try to put others first, but hates that I always hurt myself in order to do it. I explained that I actually like my current living arrangement more, but she didn’t believe me since my commute is longer, the space is smaller, and I’m still sharing it with someone. But she doesn’t get it. Then, when I tried to explain how you and I met and reconnected, she was pissed because she’s never met you, and she feels like—and I quote—‘you have this whole life up there and it feels like I know nothing about it.’ Of course, I said, ‘that’s a little hypocritical since you knew I was moving to Boston when you accepted the job in Florida.’ And she didn’t like that at all.” Finally, he takes a breath and sighs. “I don’t know, man… maybe I was delusional to think we could make it work, but like, we have made it work. For a really long time. I just don’t know what’s changed.”

My tie has been completed for about two minutes, but Chase and I are still standing in each other’s space.

He’s distraught, and if I know anything about Chase Matthews, it’s that physical touch is what grounds him and makes him feel safe.

Wrapping one arm over his shoulder and threading the other under his armpit, I embrace him, pulling his body against mine.

“I’m sorry, man. I wish I could offer some advice, but seeing as how my longest actual relationship lasted about three weeks, I don’t have much wisdom to share here.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to invite Kendra up here, let her meet me and realize I’m not a threat, just so she backs off. But the selfish part of me doesn’t want her in our space, doesn’t want to have to watch Chase’s massive frame dwarf her petite one as he cups her face to kiss her lips.

No. No, I don’t want that at all.

In fact, it kind of leaves me feeling a little queasy, which probably isn’t a good sign. I think I’m just angry at her for making him doubt himself and ruining his happy-go-lucky, smiley vibe.

He grips me back, his hug like a vise.

“Just listening to me goes a long way,” Chase mumbles next to my ear before pulling back. “Okay, it’s fucking New Year’s Eve. Let’s go schmooze, enjoy someone else’s expensive booze, and let loose for once, shall we?” he asks, holding his arm out for me to take.

I stare at it before meeting his gaze.

“Ohmygod, Chase, you didn’t tell them I was your date, did you?”

He throws his head back with a laugh.

“No, but only because I didn’t think about it. That would be hilarious though, right? Confuse the hell out of everyone?”

Yeah, including me. Real fucking funny.

I shake my head with a smile.

“Come on. We’re taking my truck.”

Chapter 22

Chase

Logan whistles when we pull up to the gate at the bottom of Dr. Porter’s driveway.

“Christ. This guy is fucking loaded.”

“He should be,” I reply. “He’s single. Never been married or divorced. No kids. And he works his balls off. People have no idea how lucky they are to have him in this area. Trauma cases get medevaced to him from all over the country. It’s insane.”

“Well, I wasn’t nervous about being the dumbest person in the room before, but I certainly am now,” Logan chuckles as he pulls through the iron gates.

“Hey,” I say, turning in my seat to face him. “You’re not dumb. And you’re definitely not the dumbest in the room. Jackson’s going to be here, remember?” I tease.

“Oh, do I get to meet the lovely soon-to-be Mrs. Can’t Change a Trash Bag, too?”

I snort.

“Yep.”

Logan parks behind an old Toyota Camry, and we climb out of the truck. As soon as we’re inside, I move a little closer to him. I’m not sure when he became my security blanket, but even I’m overwhelmed in Dr. Porter’s opulent home.

Speaking of, the man himself comes around the corner looking like the millions of dollars he’s worth in a gray pinstripe suit, his jawline bare, his scent perfectly masculine…and rich.

“Dr. Matthews, I’m glad you could make it,” he says, shaking my hand before inclining his head toward Logan.