51. Logan
Logan
The entire staff on the sixth floor lines the hallway as Marcy and Helen prepare to leave the pediatric cancer floor for the last time.
I wouldn’t miss this for the world, but I’m also content to stand back and let those who have been involved in Marcy’s care day in and day out have their moment with her.
She gets to ring the bell, signaling that she is cancer-free.
It’s heartbreaking to watch several other kids stand in their doorways, watching her exit, clearly wondering if that will ever be them one day.
Marcy shakes hands and gives high-fives as her mom trails behind her, wiping her eyes, carrying Marcy’s belongings, except for the dolphin blanket Chase gave Marcy for Christmas. Marcy is clutching that tightly to her chest.
As soon as she lays eyes on Chase at the end of the hall, everyone else ceases to exist, and she takes off at a sprint.
Chase scoops her up and twirls her around while I fumble with my phone, trying to capture the moment for him.
Helen comes to stand next to me.
“Any chance I can get a copy of that?” she asks.
“Of course,” I reply in a whisper. My throat is too clogged with emotion to speak any louder.
Chase isn’t even trying to hold back his tears as he hugs Marcy to him.
Trying not to intrude, we give them a minute to speak alone before Helen and I join them.
“Dr. Chase, we sure are going to miss you,” Helen says, wrapping Chase in a hug as they sandwich her daughter. “I don’t know how we would’ve made it without you.”
Chase wipes his eyes as he answers, “I had nothing to do with her treatment, Helen.”
“But you loved my little girl and made her feel like a human instead of a pincushion. You helped her maintain her humanity through all of this. It’s because of that love that your bond with her is so special.”
After more tears, more photos, and an exchange of numbers, we get Helen and Marcy loaded into their car and wave until they’re out of sight.
“What now, Dr. Matthews?” I ask.
“Let’s go home,” he says.
“You know what I was thinking?” I ask as we make our way to the physicians’ lockers so Chase can grab his things.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“I think we should go house hunting.”
Chase comes to an abrupt halt.
“Shut up,” he says, making me laugh. “Don’t you fucking play with my heart like that.”
Holding my hands up in surrender, I say, “No playing. I’m being serious. I love you, Chase. I also love who I am when I’m with you. I want all the Christmas cuddles, and I’ll happily be the big spoon for the rest of my life. I just want forever with you. Let’s buy a house. Together.”
Chase pulls me flush against his body, and my cock instantly takes notice.
“Forever, huh?” he says, looking down at me. “Sounds an awful lot like a marriage proposal, Mr. Kirkland,” Chase fires, using my words against me. I swear the man remembers every word we’ve ever spoken to each other.
“That’s a great idea, Dr. Matthews,” I say, reaching up to fuse our mouths together. “But you deserve a grand gesture of a proposal. Something far more romantic than a casual conversation in the physicians’ locker room,” I point out.
Chase laughs.
“I won’t say no, but perhaps we should take sunset flights over islands off the list of possible proposal ideas?”
I match his laughter.
“Duly noted.”
I smile, thinking about the chaos of that afternoon and all that’s followed since.
While the fatal heart rhythm usually robs people of their lives, I’m certain I’m the only person whose life has ever been restored by asystole.