Page 49 of Dr. Roz Harrington
“I’m fine,” Sam said, her voice hoarse as she pulled her gloves off and tossed them onto the bench.
“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Jack replied dryly, stepping into the room. “But punching the hell out of that bag says otherwise.”
Sam didn’t answer, turning away as she grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her face.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on, or are we just gonna keep pretending you’re okay?” Jack pressed, his voice softer now. “Because whatever it is, it’s eating you alive, Cap.”
Sam opened her mouth, ready to fire off another deflection, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat tightened, her shoulders slumping as she dropped onto the bench. She stared at the floor, her hands fisted in the towel, trying to pull herself together.
“Jack,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t.”
Jack studied her for a moment, his expression softening. He didn’t push. He just sat down on the bench across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, waiting.
Sam didn’t look up, didn’t say anything else. The silence between them stretched out, heavy and unspoken, but for the first time all night, it didn’t feel so suffocating.
Hours later, Sam lay on her bunk, staring at the ceiling. Her body was exhausted, every muscle aching, but sleep wouldn’t come.
She replayed the moment in Roz’s office over and over, the softness of Roz’s kiss, the way it turned desperate, and then the way Roz pulled away as Evelyn’s voice shattered the quiet. She couldn’t shake the look on Roz’s face: fear, regret, shame.
“I’ll handle this.”
Sam closed her eyes, her chest aching as she thought of Roz alone, facing Evelyn’s disapproval without her. She wanted to fight for Roz, to pull her into her arms and tell her that nothing else mattered. But Roz had pushed her away, and now Sam didn’t know how to reach her.
As the first rays of morning light crept through the window, Sam let out a shaky breath. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what to do.
12
ROZ
Roz stepped out of her car and stared up at the Harrington estate, its grandeur looming against the gray morning sky. The sprawling stone mansion, an architectural marvel, had once been a symbol of her family’s prestige and wealth, but now it just felt cold, empty, and suffocating. She paused on the front steps, her hands buried deep in her coat pockets, as the wind whipped around her. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to turn back and retreat, but she couldn’t. Evelyn had summoned her, and when Evelyn Harrington summoned, you answered.
The door was opened before she even knocked, one of the house staff ushering her in with a quiet nod. The sound of her boots echoed on the marble floors as she moved through the hall, the polished family portraits watching her every step. Her gaze lingered on one, her father’s stoic face beside a much younger Evelyn. They looked invincible and untouchable. The Harringtons always did.
“Your mother is in the sitting room, Roz,” the staff member murmured, but Roz didn’t need directions. She knew the layout of this house as well as she knew an OR.
Pushing open the heavy door to the sitting room, Roz found her mother exactly where she expected, sitting in her grand leather armchair by the fireplace, a china teacup balanced delicately in her hand. Evelyn didn’t look up immediately, her sharp gaze fixed on the flames. Roz’s heartbeat pounded as she stepped inside, letting the door close behind her.
“Sit.”
It was a command, not a request. Evelyn didn’t need to raise her voice to wield power. Her control lay in the steel beneath her words, in the unflinching gaze she finally turned toward Roz as she sat down across from her.
For a long moment, there was only silence. The fire crackled faintly, but it did nothing to warm the chill seeping into Roz’s bones.
“You’ve embarrassed me, Rosalind.”
Roz’s throat tightened. “Mother, I?—”
“Don’t.” Evelyn’s voice cut like a scalpel, sharp and precise. “I’ve spent decades building this family’s name, your father and I both. Do you think I’ll let you ruin that with your reckless decisions? Withher?”
Roz’s jaw clenched as the words hung in the air.Her.The disdain in Evelyn’s tone was unmistakable.
“You don’t know her,” Roz said carefully, her voice low but steady.
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And I don’t need to. I saw enough last night to know exactly what’s going on.” She leaned forward, placing the teacup gently on the table between them. “You’ve worked so hard, Rosalind, so hard to get to where you are. And for what? To throw it all away for some fleeting…infatuation?”
Roz’s hands fisted in her lap. “It’s not fleeting.”
“Then it’s worse than I thought,” Evelyn snapped, her calm façade finally cracking. “You can’t have both, Rosalind. Do youunderstand me? You cannot have the career you’ve worked for, the respect you’ve fought for, and…this.” She waved her hand dismissively, as though the relationship, her love for Sam, were nothing more than a stain on Roz’s otherwise pristine record.
