Page 63 of Asystole

For Stone and Hanlon.

Along with the invitation is a handwritten note that I’m certain does not accompany every invite.

Chase,

You’ve been my best friend for over twelve years. You were the first person I came out to, and you made it feel like the most natural thing in the world. Which is why, although I was nervous, I wasn’t scared to tell you about me and Stone. As we prepare to say our vows, committing ourselves to each other forever, there’s no one else I want standing by my side. Will you be my best man?

Love you,

Hanlon

My chest grows tight, and my teeth clench hard as I try to prevent the tears from falling. As soon as I make my way into the condo—quietly because Logan is still asleep—I pull my phone out and text Hanlon my yes.

The stress that has been weighing on me recently evaporates, but only for the briefest of seconds, because as I lay the rest of the mail down, I see a matching envelope addressed to Logan.

Did they really send Logan an invitation?

Is it possible Stone is truly that big of an idiot?

Whatever the reason, I know this is really going to hurt a man who’s been hurt enough.

Logan is entering his on-week. He’s still on nights though, so he won’t be up for a while, which means I have all fucking day to stress over what to do about this invitation. I want to burn it or otherwise hide it so he never knows it arrived, but doing that and then agreeing to be Hanlon’s best man seems like a betrayal I’m not willing to commit.

And of course, I’m going to be Hanlon’s best man.

So, I guess I’m also going to be there for Logan during the emotional spiral I know is coming.

So much for keeping my distance.

I place his invitation with mine in my room. Since he’s going into work tonight, the last thing I want is him distraught over this fucking invitation and then having to fly.

It’s cold and sleeting, which already has me on edge for his work shift, but I constantly remind myself that he used to fly in conditions far more hazardous than this.

After making six grilled cheese sandwiches and a pot of tomato soup—my lunch, Logan’s breakfast—I grab my laptop and move to sit at the bar that serves as a barrier between the kitchen and the living room.

Okay, so my relationship with Kendra is on the fritz, Logan and I haven’t repaired the damage from New Year’s, and I suddenly thought buying real estate with my estranged friend on a resident’s salary was a brilliant plan.

How stupid can I be?

But my anxiety takes a backseat after looking at two condos that have potential. One even has a balcony that I could totally picture sitting on while having a beer and catching up with Logan on a summer evening. Both bedrooms have an attached bathroom, and there is a guest bathroom in the hallway. There’s color on the walls and rugs on the floor, and it makes me realize what this is actually about.

I want a home.

Stability. Permanence. A place to grow roots. A place that isn’t just a stepping stone to the next chapter. I don’t know where I’ll match for my surgical fellowship, and thinking about picking up and starting over again sets my teeth on edge. And sure, these plans should probably include a phone call to Kendra, but they don’t, because I don’t want another argument about where we’re going to end up. I never do a single fucking thing for myself: is an actual home too much to ask for?

Having talked myself into it, I place a call to the listed real estate agent, explaining the situation and asking if she’s available to show me a few options.

Once a plan is made, I grab the pad of sticky notes and scribble a quick message to Logan: Nuke the grilled cheese for forty seconds. The soup takes seventy-five. I slap it to the fridge, grab my coat, and head to meet Vee, my new realtor.

Chapter 25

Logan

Isnooze my alarm three times. It’s something I never do, but I can hear the sleet hitting my window and nothing in me wants to get out of this bed. The condo is quiet, I’m nice and warm, and the calmness in the air tells me Chase isn’t here.

We’ve hardly spoken or even seen each other since he fully moved in. The silence doesn’t feel laced with anger or animosity, though. In truth, it feels tinged with the kind of shyness that only comes from acknowledging desires that are based on uncontrollable lust.

I would know.