5. Logan
Logan
It’s a good damn thing I’m sitting down. I wish I could hide my reaction better, but just coming off seven days on, I don’t have any energy left to pretend.
“Hey, are you okay?” Chase asks, the concern in his voice almost breaking me.
“I’m gonna need more beer,” I reply, draining the glass in front of me.
“What’s going on? You’ve gone totally pale.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I deadpan, hating that Chase is on the receiving end of my instant bad mood.
“Maybe to someone who knows you, but I’ve only talked to you twice before now,” he reminds me.
“Right.” That actually makes this worse.
I had zero plans to dump my personal baggage on Chase tonight.
Flagging down our waiter, I ask for another beer before turning my attention back to Chase.
“I’m in love with Stone. Have been for a long-ass time.
It’s why I left Ricochet when he and Hanlon got together.
” Saying the words out loud tears a new hole through my heart.
The poor thing has taken a beating lately.
Chase’s eyes grow wide.
“Oh, fuck.”
My lips roll in as I try to breathe through my pain before managing to whisper, “Yeah.”
Chase is a big dude. He’s several inches taller than me and broad-shouldered with a stocky, muscular build. He covers half my forearm with one of his giant hands, attempting to console me.
“Bro, I’m so sorry. If I had known, I wouldn’t have just blurted it out like an idiot.”
I shake my head.
“It’s not your fault. It isn’t like I advertised.
Except to Stone,” I quickly correct with a snort.
“Who knew, and still wouldn’t give me the time of day, even though he relied on me for literally every aspect of our lives out there.
We made a great team.” The bitterness in my voice is unmistakable.
Silence descends over our table while Chase tries to find the right words, though there aren’t any.
“That just means your guy is still out there,” Chase finally says. It’s clear my being gay doesn’t upset him in the slightest. Why would it? I ask myself. He’s Hanlon’s best friend. “You’re too young and too hot to give up,” he continues.
I decide my only course of action is to deflect with a joke—something that once came so easily to me.
“Are you suggesting you find me attractive, Chase?” I ask half-heartedly.
Chase actually leans back, letting his eyes rake over me before cocking his head to the side.
“You’re not half bad…for a tatted, bad-ass pilot,” he says with a perfectly straight, brilliantly white smile.
I scoff and shake my head, feeling childish for the egotistical statement I made earlier. But the smile that crosses my lips is genuine for the first time in a long time, so I don’t feel too bad for baiting him.
“That was a stupid thing for me to say, since you’re right. I’m clearly not everyone’s type,” I concede.
Chase downs another loaded potato skin, making the most obscene groan before dunking a fried pickle in dressing and handing it to me.
“Here, eat this. It’ll make you feel better. Besides,” he adds as I bite into the fried goodness. “Stone doesn’t really seem to fit your vibe.”
“Since you’re clearly the expert, what is my vibe? And who fits it?”
“I’m going to say…” Chase looks around the dimly lit space, and I watch as his eyes land on… “The guy behind the bar.”
I eat another fried pickle, shaking my head.
“The tattoos make him an automatic no,” I say with a laugh.
“That’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?” Chase asks with a pointed gaze toward my ink-covered arms. I’d pushed the sleeves of my hoodie up after my first beer, the flush from the alcohol heating my skin.
“Not really. I don’t need to see my own skin since I live in it, but I really like looking at others’ inkless bodies. It’s nothing against him; I just tend to prefer guys without tattoos.”
Chase shrugs.
“That’s fair, I guess.” I fool myself into thinking he’s going to change the subject, but instead, he doubles down on the hard questions. “So, how long have you had feelings for Stone?”
“Too long. How’s the whole doctor thing going?” I ask, hoping the deliberate subject change is enough for him to drop it.
Chase gives me a nod of understanding, but has to get a final word in.
“If you want help moving on, I’m a great wingman. I’m super good at making other dudes jealous, but I’m never competition. And residency is cool. I mean, it’s kicking my ass, but it’s supposed to, ya know?”
Chase’s phone goes off a minute later, vibrating loudly against the table in the quiet space. He looks at the name and ignores the call from someone named Sarah.
I arch a brow.
Chase gives me a sheepish grin.
“Colleague.”
“Hot colleague?” Logan asks with a smirk.
“Very,” I confirm, telling the truth. “But it’s not like that.”
“How often do you get laid?” I ask. I mean, it’s basically a pot-meet-kettle situation here, since I haven’t seen any action in quite a while myself, but at least I could if the mood struck.
Chase throws his head back in laughter like that was the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his life.
“I mean, not as often as I’d like, obviously, but my hands and the porn network keep me sane. I don’t usually have much time anyway, so it suits my schedule to just rub one out before bed and call it a day,” he says.
“Yeah, but don’t you miss pussy? I mean, back before I got totally fucked up over Stone, I’d crave dick every couple of days.”
Chase clinks his glass against mine with a wink.
“I’ll remember that next time my hand fails to get the job done.”
I snort in laughter. Chase definitely has a serious side, but he picks up on emotional details in a way not a lot of men do, and he can turn the mood of a conversation around with just one sentence.
He’s easy to be around and has an intelligent sense of humor.
His ability to get to the heart of a matter without making it feel too heavy is extremely unique.
By the time he finishes his second beer and we polish off the last crumbs of the appetizers we ordered, it’s nine-forty, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
It’s clear I haven’t used those muscles in quite a bit because I didn’t think I’d smiled all that much during this little outing, but I guess I was wrong.
Chase looks at his watch and groans.
“Oh man, I need to head out. This was definitely what I needed tonight, though. I’m glad we finally connected. Let’s do it again sometime. Everyone I normally talk to just wants to discuss medication interactions, liver dissections, or asystole.”
“Asis—what?”
Chase chuckles.
“Asystole. It’s cardiac arrest with complete cessation of all electrical and mechanical output of the heart.”
“Sounds riveting,” I lie as I signal to our waiter that we’re ready for the check. When he brings it over, I grab it before Chase can pay for my food. “Dude, you’re an intern, which is barely a resident. You have, like, negative money. I’ll pay.”
Chase offers another one of his carefree laughs.
“Dude, both of my parents are world-renowned surgeons, and I’m an only child. Trust me, I had more money before I could walk than I’ll ever make in my lifetime. Plus, as long as I’m ‘on the path,’ they foot the bill for my existence.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, sliding my credit card into the little pouch.
“Well, first it meant getting into a top med school. Then it meant choosing a specialty they deem worthy of my time and their money. And last, it means no babies, weddings, or cohabitation with Kendra until I’m done with both residency and fellowship and am established in practice.”
“How does your girlfriend feel about that?” I ask, handing my card to the waiter.
“She knows the rules,” he says. I must have an incredulous look on my face because Chase laughs.
“It’s really not as crazy as it sounds. My parents just feel like if I get married or knock Kendra up, then I’m stating that I’m ready to have a family of my own, and that includes financially supporting one, and dealing with that stress will take my focus away from where it needs to be. ”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” I concede. “And what about the specialty thing?” I ask. “Seems kind of fucked up to force your kid down a road he isn’t passionate about.”
“No, I mean, trauma surgery is crazy interesting. And I’m decent under pressure, so it’s a good fit.”
“But is it what you want to do?”
Chase shrugs. “I just want to practice medicine, make a difference, and help people feel better,” he says.
Well, he’s certainly made me feel better tonight.
“Sounds like you’re on the path, then,” I tease. “But tonight’s still on me. You can grab the bill next time.”
Chase grins. “I’m holding you to a next time.”
I’m relieved to realize that I’m already looking forward to it.