Page 41 of Dr. Roz Harrington
Roz turned, her spine straightening instinctively at the sound of Sam’s voice. She found Sam standing close, closer than Roz expected. The light caught in Sam’s hair, her features softer than usual, though her posture still radiated authority.
“Captain Quinn.” Roz’s tone was perfectly composed, but her pulse raced. She forced herself to hold Sam’s gaze without wavering. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a small, humorless smile. “I could say the same for you. This doesn’t seem like your kind of crowd.”
Roz shrugged, swirling the champagne in her glass, feigning disinterest. “I like to keep people on their toes.”
Sam’s gaze narrowed slightly, as though she saw right through Roz’s mask. “Is that what you’re doing? Keeping people guessing?”
Roz’s lips quirked. “It’s a talent.”
There was a beat of silence, an almost charged pause. Roz watched as Sam studied her, those sharp blue eyes digging in deeper than Roz wanted to admit. Sam’s voice softened just slightly, the challenge in it tempered with something quieter. “You’re good at that, you know. Keeping people guessing. Keeping yourself out of reach.”
Roz’s throat tightened, but she deflected easily, smirking. “I’m sure you’ll survive not having me figured out, Captain.”
Sam didn’t smile back. Instead, her eyes darkened, her voice dipping low. “Is that what you think? That I don’t see you?”
Roz froze. For the first time that night, her carefully crafted walls faltered. Sam’s words cut through the armor she wore so tightly, hitting a nerve Roz hadn’t expected. She swallowed hard, shifting her weight.
“Don’t make this more than it is,” Roz said, her tone colder than she intended. It was a reflex, a defense mechanism that kept people at arm’s length. “You don’t know me, Sam.”
Sam’s jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face. “Maybe that’s because you don’t let anyone in.”
Roz opened her mouth to reply, but the words caught in her throat. She felt cornered, exposed in a way she hadn’t been in years, and Sam’s presence only heightened it. The tension between them was suffocating, thick with words neither of them dared to say.
Sam sighed, stepping back slightly, her expression softening. “Never mind,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have come over.”
Roz’s heart clenched as she watched Sam turn to leave, her broad shoulders rigid. Something inside her snapped—an impulse, an ache, a flicker of desperation—and before she knew what she was doing, Roz’s voice cut through the space between them.
“Sam.”
Sam paused, glancing back, her brows furrowing slightly.
Roz hesitated, the words she wanted to say fighting against years of learned restraint. She swallowed thickly, the pull toward Sam impossible to resist. “I…didn’t mean that.”
Sam tilted her head, studying her, waiting.
Roz took a step forward, the distance between them shrinking. Her voice was quieter now, softer. “You’re right. I keep people out. It’s safer that way.” She let out a slow breath, forcing herself to meet Sam’s gaze. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t see you, too.”
For a long moment, Sam said nothing, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curved into the faintest smile, just enough to make Roz’s heart skip a beat.
“I’ll see you around, Roz,” Sam said, her tone holding an edge of warmth that hadn’t been there before.
Roz watched as Sam walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what had just happened, but she felt raw, stripped down to something she couldn’t quite define.
Later that night, Roz sat alone in her apartment, the events of the charity event playing in a continuous loop in her mind. Her untouched glass of wine sat on the table, the dim light casting deep shadows across the room.
The look on Sam’s face when Roz had shut her out haunted her. The frustration in those sharp blue eyes, the way Sam’s voice had softened when she said,“Maybe that’s because you don’t let anyone in.”
Roz leaned back on the couch, exhaling slowly. Sam wasn’t wrong. Roz had spent years perfecting the art of keeping people out. Control meant safety. Safety meant not having to face emotions that clawed at her chest when someone got too close.
But tonight, for a brief moment, Sam had cracked something open. Roz could still feel the heat of Sam’s gaze, the pull of her presence. It was maddening how easily Sam disrupted the carefully constructed walls Roz hid behind.
Her phone buzzed softly beside her, a message flashing on the screen.
Sam:“Still here. Balcony, west side.”
Roz’s heart skipped. She stared at the screen for a long moment, her pulse quickening. She could ignore it. She could let it pass, burying tonight with the rest of her vulnerabilities.
