Page 37 of Dr. Roz Harrington
Lila shrugged one shoulder. “Bits and pieces. Mostly just…your voice. You told me I wasn’t alone.”
Sam’s chest tightened again, the memory of holding Lila’s hand as the rubble closed around them flashing through her mind. “You weren’t,” Sam said quietly.
They sat in silence for a moment, the rhythmic beeping of monitors filling the space. Sam looked down at her hands, rough and calloused against the navy blue of her firehouse jacket. “You’ve got a strong spirit, you know,” she murmured, almost to herself.
Lila smiled faintly. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yeah,” Sam replied, her voice firm. “It’s what got you through this. You were tough when you needed to be. That’s not easy.”
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Sam wasn’t just talking to Lila anymore; she was talking to herself, to every person she’d ever fought to save. To Roz, who had been the one to keep Lila alive when Sam couldn’t do anything more.
The thought made her jaw tighten.
“Are you okay?” Lila asked softly, her gaze sharper than Sam expected. “You look like you’re carrying something too.”
Sam blinked, caught off guard. She hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s…part of the job,” she said eventually, her tone quieter now. “Some days, it weighs heavier than others.”
Lila studied her, eyes soft but steady. “It’s a lot to hold alone, isn’t it?”
Sam’s throat tightened at the honesty in her voice, and she had to look away for a moment. She hadn’t realized just how much the weight was pressing on her until now.
“Sometimes,” Sam admitted. “But you’re not alone in this, okay? You’ve got people here who’ll take care of you.”
Lila nodded faintly, her smile small but warm. “Thank you, Sam. For everything.”
Sam stood, her hands flexing at her sides as she looked down at the young woman. “Take care of yourself, alright?” Her voice was firm, but there was a softness beneath it, a promise.
As she stepped back into the hallway, the door clicking softly behind her, Sam exhaled a long, shaky breath. She lingered outside the room for a moment, her gaze unfocused as emotions churned in her chest.
Her thoughts turned, as they always seemed to now, to Roz. The tension they’d left unresolved gnawed at her like an ache she couldn’t shake. Sam couldn’t forget the way Roz had looked during the argument, defensive, yes, but also hurt.
Sam’s fists clenched and relaxed at her sides as she started walking, the rhythmic sound of her boots grounding her as she moved down the hall. She should’ve been angry, still was, but buried beneath that frustration was something she couldn’t quite name. A longing.
Roz had saved Lila’s life. Sam couldn’t deny that. And it wasn’t just skill that Sam had seen in the OR that day; it was resolve, courage, and a confidence that both infuriated her and stirred something deep within her.
Sam didn’t know how to reconcile it.
Pulling out her phone as she reached the hospital exit, she typed a quick message, her thumb hesitating over the send button for a long moment before she pressed it.
Sam:“She looks better today.”
The reply came minutes later, short and clinical.
Roz:“Good.”
Sam stared at the message for a beat too long, her jaw tightening. Roz’s walls were still up, and Sam wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep banging on them. But even as frustration curled in her chest, her thumb hovered over the screen.
She started typing, her message deliberate and sharp.
Sam:“I need to see you.”
The message sat there, staring back at her, challenging her to hit send. She knew this was messy, dangerous even, but Sam was tired of pretending she didn’t care, tired of Roz pretending she didn’t feel it too.
Her heart thumped once, hard, as she pressed send.
The reply was immediate.
Roz:“I’ll meet you outside.”
