17. Logan
Logan
Iwake up to an empty house on Christmas morning, just like I knew I would.
I make the mandatory call to my parents, but it doesn’t last long.
My parents and I are on good terms, but we’ve never been super close.
It’s never really bothered me, and after hearing how Chase’s parents control so much of his life—even at twenty-six—I’ve never been more thankful that mine are off doing their own thing.
I spend the day doing meal prep, laundry, and giving the small condo a good scrub-down before I go back to work tomorrow for my on-week.
It’s seven p.m. when Chase texts me, but I wasn’t expecting him until much later.
Chase
Honey, I’m headed home. Put on something slutty and start dinner.
I roll my eyes but laugh anyway. He’s such an idiot.
Logan:
Unless you’re footing the bill for my existence, Dr. Matthews, the sluttiest thing you’ll see me in is this hoodie.
Chase
I disagree. Your flight suit is way sluttier.
When Chase talks like this, it makes me so confused. I can’t tell if he’s flirting with me or if he’s just so fucking free with his words that he doesn’t stop to think about how someone might read into them… How I might read into them.
And don’t get me started on the emojis.
But just to have a little fun, I preheat the oven and change into my flight suit.
What the hell? It’s Christmas. I’ll play along.
Before popping the pizza into the oven, I rearrange the pepperonis into a Christmas tree because making Chase smile after a long day makes me feel good.
As I’m arranging the processed meat circles, my mind goes back to last night. I can’t get it out of my head. How sweet he was to Marcy and her mom. That little girl looked at Chase with stars in her eyes, and it was clear she and Helen both think Chase hung the moon. He was so good with her.
It was a glimpse of something I’d long given up hope for.
A family.
Kids of my own.
A partner to share it with.
I shake my head because wallowing on Christmas isn’t the vibe I’m going for.
Fifteen minutes later, I hear the lock on the front door unlatch, and suddenly, I’m nervous.
What if I’m taking this too far?
Looking down at my flight suit, I begin to panic. What if Chase thinks I’m coming on to him? Am I coming on to him?
Jesus, these lines are blurry.
But I don’t even have time to race to my room before the door swings open wide, and Chase lets out a low whistle as he sets his work bag on the floor and takes his heavy jacket off, hanging it up in the small foyer closet.
“Damn, Kirkland. If I’d known you were gonna take my preferences that seriously, I would’ve been more creative.”
I still can’t tell if the fucker’s joking, so I laugh it off.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t get you anything for Christmas, so I thought giving you fodder for your yank-bank was the least I could do.”
Chase laughs, and I move into the kitchen to stop the beeping timer. He’s hot on my heels as I set the tray with the pizza on the stove.
“Christmas pizza?” he asks, a tone of awe in his voice as he peers over my shoulder.
“Um, yeah? Isn’t that what we talked about?”
“We did. It’s just that most people don’t take me seriously unless I’m at the hospital because it’s not a group that understands medicine and humor can go together, so I have to hide my personality a lot of the time.
” Chase moves closer and fingers the zipper of my flight suit.
“So, you taking my requests seriously is like a gift all in itself.”
Oh.
“Well,” I hedge. “I happen to like your real personality. And tonight, we’re having Christmas pizza, so go change and get comfortable,” I say, moving to grab the pizza cutter from the counter before I grab him instead.
As Chase walks toward his room, his phone starts ringing. My place is so small I can hear every word he speaks.
“Hey, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.” There’s a pause, and then I hear his tone change as he says, “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I just haven’t had a second to breathe all day.”
He doesn’t shut his bedroom door, so I move closer, eavesdropping again like the stalker I’m becoming where Chase is concerned.
“Yes, I know you’re busy, too. And yes, I know you made time to text me, but I don’t think you understand.
My brain is processing a thousand details all day long.
Ones that have serious consequences if I fuck up and forget one.
I can’t be worried about a Merry Christmas text when I’m in the OR responsible for maintaining good visibility through blood and saline.
” After another pause, he sighs and says, “No, I’m not saying my job is more important than yours; I’m just trying to explain why I didn’t text you earlier.
” I hear his bedframe squeak as he sits down.
I don’t want to interrupt, but I hate hearing him sound so dejected and beaten down.
Especially after he came home voicing that he spends all day pushing down his wonderful, bright personality just so people take him seriously.
Can’t everyone just give the guy a break? It’s Christmas, for fuck’s sake.
I rap my knuckles on his door and move into the opening.
“Hey, Chase, dinner’s ready,” I tell him.
Looking up, he mouths thanks.
“Kendra, I have to go. Yes, so soon. My roommate made dinner for me, and I don’t want it to get cold.” I’m almost back to the kitchen when I hear him say, “I know. I love and miss you too.”
I’m pretty sure the pit that just opened up in my stomach is simply because Chase has someone to love—even if she’s being kind of a cunt right now—and I’m still on my own.
“Want to eat in the living room?” I ask, hearing him come into the kitchen a few minutes later.
“Sure.”
When I turn to hand him a plate, I see one large wrapped box and an even larger wrapped flat rectangle in the living room behind Chase.
“What are those?” I ask as he and I grip the same plate on opposite sides.
“Just something I picked up as a thank you for letting me crash here,” he says, like it’s no big deal.
“Chase, you didn’t have to do that. I know you’ve been busting your ass. The last thing you needed to be worried about was finding me a thank-you gift.”
He lifts one shoulder.
“That’s kind of why I wanted to do it. You’re like the only person in my life right now who doesn’t expect something from me.”
Chase’s cheeks turn a deep red that almost matches his hair.
Fuck.
I want to kiss him.
“What do you say we eat this Christmas pizza and then have some Christmas cuddles?” I ask, feeling like he could use someone to comfort him tonight. But when his eyes get wide, I worry that maybe I’ve said the wrong thing.
“How do you know about Christmas cuddles?!” he practically shrieks. “Have you talked to Hanlon?” he asks excitedly.
“What? No. I didn’t know they were a thing. I just figured they were like Christmas pizza, you know…like, regular cuddles but with Christmas sweaters or something?”
“Oh, it’s even better,” Chase says, making me shake my head. I don’t bother hiding my smile.
“Okay, Dr. Matthews, let’s hear it.”
“Christmas cuddles are done under a Christmas blanket while watching a Christmas movie.”
Is this holiday over yet? I silently wonder.
The last thing I need is to be squished against Chase’s thousand-degree body on the couch, snuggled under a blanket where hands can roam while eyes remain ignorant.
If I were to stroke Chase’s hip, would he let me?
After the last taste of having my hands on him, I’m realizing he isn’t the only one starving for physical touch. But he and I don’t respond to it the same way, and that will most likely lead to one of us getting hurt… namely, me. And then I’ll have to run again.
“Shit,” Chase says, his voice bringing me back to the present. “I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“No,” I lie. “No, I’m good. Just thinking about going back to work tomorrow. But that can wait until after Christmas cuddles,” I say, hoping like hell he can’t tell how strained my smile is.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
Am I sure?
“Absolutely. You’ve had a long day. Let’s chill and cuddle like grown-ass men,” I tease.
Chase takes our plates and heads into the living room as I follow with drinks.
“Honestly, more dudes should do it. I’m telling you, there are like a thousand studies that show the health benefits of human touch; it’s good for our mental health, slows our resting heart rate, and it’s been proven that hugging lowers blood pressure.
It stops the total cortisol dump most of us get all day.
And the studies show the benefits happen even without the contact being sexual.
Human touch is so healing, and most men don’t even know it because they can’t get over themselves enough to try it out because it isn’t ‘manly’ or whatever-the-fuck. ”
Science.
Touch is science for him.
Medicine.
Platonic.
I mean, of course it is.
Chase has a cunty girlfriend that he’s been with for like a hundred years. He’s best friends with a gay guy, and that’s how he became comfortable with the closeness. Add in some medical research to confirm the benefits of cuddling, and suddenly, it all makes sense.
So, I flip the switch in my brain.
Nothing is confusing.
Chase Matthews is a straight man who enjoys intimate—albeit non-sexual—contact with guys he trusts and is secure enough to act on it.
Steeling my resolve, I quickly change out of my flight suit and into gym shorts and a tank top with gaping armholes, because if I’m going to be under a blanket with the heater currently eating pizza on my couch, I need breathable fabric and less skin covered.
By the time I make my way toward the living room, Chase has already produced a blanket with Santa hats, ornaments, and the most fucked-up looking reindeer I’ve ever seen.
“You came prepared.”
Chase grins.
“Hanny gave this to me like ten years ago. It was meant as a gag gift, but it sort of started a tradition instead.”
“Christmas cuddles,” I confirm, and Chase nods with a mouthful of pizza.