Page 42 of Asystole

“No, Chase, I don’t know that because I’m gay, and I was one of the lucky ones who never had to date a girl in order to figure that out,” he says.

The elevator pings, telling us we’ve arrived at our destination. When we exit, it’s pretty easy to tell you’re on a pediatric floor. There are bright colors everywhere; cartoon murals adorn the walls, and toy stations are set up in the lobby.

Logan leans into me and whispers, “I think I may have gotten the wrong idea.”

“I think maybe you did,” I whisper back, nudging him in the ribs. “You can set your stuff down here. We need to scrub in, and depending on how Marcy’s feeling, we may need to wear masks. Have you had any cold symptoms recently? Sneezing, coughing, runny nose?”

Logan shakes his head.

When we enter Marcy’s room, he smiles. “Did you do all this?”

“It’s not much,” I confess. “I wish I could do it for all the kids, but the hospital hires a guy who hands out small gifts to everyone, so that’s something at least. He’ll be here tomorrow morning. Helen, that’s Marcy’s mom, works all the time and does the best she can, but I get the feeling she doesn’t have a huge support system, so I just wanted to do a little something extra.”

“So, this dinner is for them,” Logan says, staring at me with a funny look on his face.

“Yeah. I mean, there’s enough here for all of us. The girls eat like birds,” I reply with a sad smile. “Marcy doesn’t usually have much of an appetite on chemo days, but I’m hoping the pie will convince her to at least eat something.”

Logan and I set up the spread of food and sit down to wait for Marcy’s return.

Looking over at him, the sleeves of his button-up rolled to his forearms, his tattoos exposed, I begin to realize just how good-looking he is. He has blond tips in his otherwise light brown hair, but they look good, not like a nineties bleach job gone wrong. He has the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen, and his ever-present chains hang around his neck, disappearing underneath the buttons of his shirt, drawing the eye. The diamond studs in his ears really give him a bad boy vibe, and he wears it well.

“You look nice,” I tell him. “Thank you for picking up the food.”

“It was my pleasure,” he replies. “Scrubs aren’t really Christmas dinner attire, but you make them work,” he offers with a smile.

“I meant to bring a change of clothes, but with everything else going on, I forgot them,” I admit.

“No, really, they suit you,” he says, his eyes raking over my frame. “In fact, they’re kind of hot. Can’t say I’ve ever had a surgeon fantasy, but that might be changing.”

Logan has been comfortable in his own skin since I’ve known him. The circumstances of our first meeting were far too somber for me to get a glimpse of the real him, but ever since reconnecting, I’ve learned to tell when he’s joking or just giving me a hard time.

This moment isn’t either of those things.

I swallow hard, but before I can answer, I hear a small gasp and turn my attention to the doorway.

Marcy’s eyes light up at the scene in front of her.

“Dr. Chase!” She wraps her thin little arms around my waist. “Is this for me?”

“Merry Christmas, Marcy Bear.” My eyes find her mom still standing in the doorway with a hand pressed to her mouth. “Merry Christmas, Helen.” She nods, too choked up to speak, so I do introductions. “Ladies, this is my very good friend, Logan. He flies the helicopter for the hospital and is the reason I was able to get the food here on time,” I add, with an appreciative glance in his direction. “Logan, this is Marcy and her mom, Helen.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Helen whispers.

“I’d love to see the helicopter!” Marcy says excitedly. “I’ve never been on a plane or anything,” she adds.

“Maybe we can make that happen,” Logan says.

“How was treatment today, kiddo?” I ask Marcy, pulling a paper plate from the stack as she climbs into bed.

“Eh, not so bad. It was the last dose of this round, so it was a little lighter.”

“Like, turkey and stuffing lighter? Or like straight-to-the-pie lighter?”

“Definitely the pie,” she giggles.

I wink at Helen and scoop pie onto the plate, handing it to my favorite patient, even if she’s technically not mine.

The four of us spend the next hour chatting and eating. Logan fits in seamlessly as he engages with Marcy, patiently answering all her questions about flying.