Page 27 of Dr. Roz Harrington
“Ah.” Jack nodded knowingly. “Complicated. The universal code for ‘I’m in deep, but I don’t want to admit it.’”
Sam shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
Jack chuckled, pushing off the wall. “Not when you’re giving me such prime entertainment, Cap. But seriously, don’t let whatever this is mess with your head too much. We need you sharp.”
“I’m always sharp,” Sam said, her tone firm, though the flicker of doubt in her eyes betrayed her.
“Sure,” Jack said with a smirk, walking away. “If you say so.”
Left alone, Sam leaned against the wall, her head tilting back as she let out a slow breath. Jack wasn’t wrong, she was in deep. Too deep. And the worst part was, she didn’t want to climb out. Roz had wrapped herself around Sam’s thoughts, her presence lingering like a shadow, and no amount of drills or distractions could shake her.
Sam pulled her phone from her pocket, her thumb hovering over Roz’s name in her messages. The last exchange between them was still fresh in her mind, filled with teasing words that had set her heart racing. She wanted to text Roz now, to ask how her day was going, to feel that connection again. But she hesitated, tucking the phone away instead.
She couldn’t let herself get pulled under. Not here. Not now.
But as she pushed off the wall and headed back into the firehouse, Sam knew she was lying to herself. Roz wasn’t just under her skin, she was in her blood. And no amount of distance or distraction was going to change that.
The firehouse was quiet in the late evening, the hum of distant sirens blending with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights. Sam sat on the edge of her bunk, her phone resting in her hands. She stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over Roz’s name in her messages. The emptiness of the room mirrored the hollow ache she couldn’t seem to shake.
They had stolen moments together, tucked away like precious gems—hidden, cherished, and fragile. But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.
Sam sighed, leaning forward as she typed out a message, her fingers hesitating on the keys before she hit send.
Sam:“You still awake?”
She set the phone down, rubbing a hand over her face as she waited. The minutes stretched, the quiet pressing in on her until the screen lit up with Roz’s reply.
Roz:“Always. What’s wrong?”
Sam frowned at the words, her chest tightening. Roz always knew when something was off, even through the barrier of a screen. It should have comforted Sam, but instead, it only made the distance between them feel more unbearable.
Sam:“Just thinking.”
The reply came almost instantly.
Roz:“Dangerous habit. What’s on your mind?”
Sam stared at the message, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to say everything: that the secrecy was suffocating her, that she hated pretending like Roz wasn’t constantly in her head, that she wanted more than stolen kisses and late-night texts. But she knew how Roz would react. The walls would go up, the conversation would deflect, and they’d be back to square one.
Still, the frustration bled into her words as she typed her reply.
Sam:“How long can we keep this up, Roz? Sneaking around like teenagers? It’s starting to feel like we’re running in circles.”
The pause before Roz’s response felt like an eternity. When it came, it was cautious, measured, exactly what Sam expected.
Roz:“You know why it has to be this way. My career… your career… if anyone found out, well, you know.”
Sam typed back, her reply quick and pointed.
Sam:“I know. Believe me, I know. But don’t you think this is taking a toll?”
The silence that followed was deafening. Sam’s chest tightened as she watched the screen, the little typing indicator blinking on and off as Roz hesitated. When the message finally came through, it was more vulnerable than Sam anticipated.
Roz:“I’m trying, Sam. This is all new for me.”
Sam exhaled, some of her frustration ebbing. She knew Roz was trying. She could see it in the way Roz let herself be vulnerable in their private moments, in the way she teased and reassured Sam when the pressure felt too much. But knowing didn’t make it easier.
Sam:“I just… I hate feeling like I’m hiding you. Like what we have isn’t real unless we’re alone.”
