Page 69 of Dr. Roz Harrington
For a moment, neither of them moved. The world seemed to pause, balancing on the edge of something fragile and unstoppable.
Then Sam stepped forward.
Her hands reached for Roz’s jacket, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric as she pulled her closer, and Roz tilted her head, leaninginto her. When their lips met, the kiss hit like a spark in dry air, igniting something raw and desperate between them.
Sam melted into Roz’s touch, every part of her surrendering to the kiss, years of longing, weeks of heartbreak, and the relief of finally having Rozhereall pouring into the way their mouths moved against each other.
Roz kissed her like she was afraid she might disappear, her hands moving from Sam’s face to thread through her hair, holding her steady as she deepened the kiss. There was nothing controlled or careful about it—just raw, unfiltered need, as though they were both trying to make up for all the time they’d lost.
Sam’s fingers curled tighter into Roz’s jacket, pulling her in as close as she could. She could feel Roz’s heart racing against her own chest, their breaths mingling as the kiss grew more desperate, more consuming.
Finally, after what felt like forever, they broke apart, both of them gasping softly as their foreheads pressed together. Sam’s hands were still clutching Roz’s jacket, refusing to let her go. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she could feel Roz’s breath fanning over her face, warm and steady.
Sam’s voice was barely more than a whisper as she spoke, raw and unsteady.
“Don’t run again.”
Roz’s hands cupped Sam’s cheeks once more, her touch steady now. She smiled faintly, soft and small, but real, as her thumb brushed across Sam’s skin, as though reassuring herself that Sam was really here.
“I won’t,” Roz said, her voice firm with quiet certainty. “Not from you.”
Sam opened her eyes, meeting Roz’s gaze, and for the first time in weeks, she saw something that had been missing: hope.
Her anger, her hurt, the wounds Roz had left behind, they were still there. But this,this, felt like the start of something new. Something real.
Sam leaned into Roz’s touch, letting herself exhale as Roz’s thumbs traced gentle, grounding patterns across her skin.
“You’re still an asshole,” Sam muttered, her voice muffled as she let her forehead rest against Roz’s.
Roz let out a soft laugh, the sound shaky but warm.
“Fair enough,” she replied. “But I’m your asshole. If you’ll still have me.”
Sam closed her eyes and let the words sink in. She wanted to be angry. Sheshouldbe angry. But right now, all she felt was relief. Roz was here. Roz wasfighting.
“I’ll think about it,” Sam said, but the teasing edge in her voice gave her away.
Roz smiled against her forehead, pressing a kiss there, gentle and lingering. “Take all the time you need,” she whispered.
Sam let out a soft, shaky breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt like she could breathe again.
The firehouse had settled into its late-evening quiet. The distant hum of engines and the muted glow of streetlights gave the scene a surreal stillness as Sam stepped into the cool night air. Roz stood beside her car, hands in her pockets, her expression softened.
Roz opened the passenger door of her car, the motion simple but filled with unspoken meaning. “Come on,” she said softly, tilting her head in invitation.
Sam hesitated. For half a second, the familiar part of her wanted to resist, to pull back and give Roz a taste of her owndistance. But another part of her, the one that had spent weeks replaying every stolen moment, whispered that it wasn’t worth it.
With a quiet sigh, Sam crossed the space between them and slid into the passenger seat. The door closed with a quiet thud, cocooning them in the stillness of the car’s interior.
It smelled faintly like leather and coffee, but more importantly, it felt like Roz, a strange mix of confidence and warmth she’d missed more than she wanted to admit. Their shoulders brushed, a small point of contact that sent sparks across Sam’s skin. Roz settled into the driver’s seat and let out a long, quiet breath while she stared through the windshield.
“So,” Sam said after a beat, her voice laced with cautious humor. “What now?”
Roz turned her head, looking at Sam with that same tentative smile Sam had seen earlier. The way Roz looked at her now—steady, hopeful, open—unraveled something deep in Sam’s chest.
“Now we figure it out,” Roz replied softly. Her voice held no hesitation this time, just a calm certainty that Sam hadn’t realized she’d been longing to hear. “Together.”
Sam looked over at her, the corner of her lips twitching into a small, teasing smile. “You’d better mean that, Harrington. I’m not going to let you off easy.”
