Page 54 of Dr. Roz Harrington
But she didn’t know how to hold on, either.
Roz’s phone buzzed again, and this time, she picked it up.
Sam:“I’m here if you need me.”
The words stared back at her, simple and steady, like Sam herself. Roz exhaled shakily, her thumb hovering over the reply button. She wanted to tell Sam everything.
But instead, she typed,“I’m fine.”
And then she turned her phone off, curling tighter into herself on the cold kitchen floor.
The city lights outside Roz’s window flickered on one by one, but Roz didn’t move. She stayed there for hours, letting the darkness wrap around her, her tears drying as exhaustion took over.
Tomorrow, she’d face it all again: Evelyn, Catherine, the whispers at the hospital.
But tonight, she let herself fall apart.
13
SAM
The firehouse was alive with noise: the clang of weights in the gym, boots stomping across the concrete floor, the low hum of chatter as the crew prepared for the morning drills. It was the kind of activity Sam usually found grounding, comforting in its routine. But today, it grated on her nerves, each sound hitting like a slap she couldn’t ignore.
She stood in the center of the locker room, clipboard in hand, trying to gather her thoughts. A rough sketch of the day’s training plan was scrawled on the board in front of her: a hose drill, engine maintenance, and emergency scenario prep. Her writing looked rushed, almost angry, the letters stabbing across the white surface.
“Cap?”
Sam didn’t turn around. She knew who it was: Jack.
“What?” Her voice came out sharp.
Behind her, there was a pause. She heard the shuffle of boots against the floor.
“You good?”
Sam exhaled through her nose, pressing the marker cap back onto the pen with a little too much force. “Yeah. Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” Jack’s voice was steady, but the edge of concern made it harder for her to dismiss him.
She turned to face him, her jaw tight, shoulders stiff. “I’m fine, Jack. Drop it.”
Jack leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t look convinced. “Right. Except you just yelled at Lopez for asking you where the hoses were. And you tore into Martinez for taking two minutes too long on maintenance. You’re scaring the probies.”
Sam shot him a glare. “They need to toughen up.”
Jack didn’t move, didn’t rise to the bait. “No. You’re pissed off, and you’re taking it out on the team. That’s not like you.”
Sam clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the heat rise in her chest. “Jack, I said drop it.”
“Nope.” Jack pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer. “I know you. And I’ve known you long enough to see when something’s eating you alive. So either you tell me what’s going on, or I’m pulling you off drills until you get your head back on straight.”
“Pull me off drills?” Sam’s voice rose, sharp and incredulous.
“Yeah,” Jack shot back. “Because I’m not letting you run a team when you’re about two seconds from snapping. And right now, that’s where you are.”
Sam stared at him, the air between them taut and crackling. Jack held his ground, his calm demeanor only fueling her frustration. The fire in her chest swirled into something else, something heavier. She turned away, running a hand through her hair as she tried to steady herself, to keep it all inside. But her fingers shook, and her throat burned.
“Jesus Christ, Jack,” she muttered, her voice low. “Just…just back off, okay?”
