Page 89 of Asystole

“We could watch a movie?” Kendra suggests, rising from the bed to grab a pink robe off the back of the chair.

“Actually, I think I’m just going to work through some chart reviews. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Moving to where she’s standing, she rolls the robe into a ball and tosses it onto the floor.

“Un-fucking-believable,” she mutters. “Are we going to talk about this, or am I just supposed to let you bury it under mounds of work?”

“The conversation won’t be productive tonight,” I tell her honestly. “But I promise we’ll talk tomorrow.”

I need to talk to Logan first.

I need to know if I’m going crazy or if there’s something there. I need to know I’m not having some psychotic break from the stress and lack of sleep.

Most importantly, I need to know if he’s in as deep as I think I am.

“Yeah, well, we’d better since I’m leaving soon,” she says.

I tuck her into my bed with a kiss on her forehead. I’m not sure how it feels to her, but it feels a lot like goodbye to me.

Then I pour a drink and settle onto the couch.

I must’ve dozed off for a few minutes, because the sound of the front door opening pulls me from my sleep.

“Logan?” I say groggily, my eyes still closed.

“Chase? Why are you on the couch instead of buried inside your girlfriend?” he gripes.

Christ, why is everyone mad at me?

My eyes flash to his. More shit is not what I need tonight.

“Why didn’t you go home with Alex?” I fire back, sitting upright.

“Who?” Logan asks, his brow pinched.

“The pilot you said you were meeting tonight?” I prompt.

His eyes dart toward the hall, telling me something doesn’t add up.

“It wasn’t like that. It was just a drink.”

“You’re lying,” I say, calling him out, finally standing to meet him as eye to eye as we can be since I’m several inches taller than him. Inhaling deeply, I search the air for the scent of another man, but I come up empty. I only smell Logan’s body wash.

“What does it matter, Chase? You’re meant to be figuring things out with Kendra, not worrying about where I am or who I’m with.”

I flop back down on the couch.

“Right,” is all I manage.

Logan shifts next to me, but I keep my eyes off him. He looks good tonight, and it irritates me that I notice.

Why can’t I just say the words?

It also irritates me that he’s lying about where he was and who he was with.

“Look, I want to help you figure this out, but I don’t think I’m the right person for the job,” he says sympathetically.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure I’ve already figured it out,” I tell him, peering through my lashes to look up at him.

He releases a slow exhale.