Page 63 of Dr. Roz Harrington
But none of it worked tonight. Not with Olivia’s words tearing through her defenses like a scalpel.
Roz leaned back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling as though it held answers. She couldn’t run this time. Olivia’s voice had planted itself firmly in her head, and she knew it wouldn’t leave until she confronted it.
“You just have to be brave.”
Brave. The word tasted foreign, uncomfortable.
Roz scoffed softly to herself. She was a surgeon, for god’s sake. Every day she walked into an operating room and held another human’s life in her hands. How many times had she made decisions in seconds that carried the weight of someone else’s existence? And yet, here she was, afraid to face one woman.
One woman who had made her feel alive. One woman who had seen something in her worth holding on to.
Her chest ached as she reached for her phone. The device felt heavier than it should, like the texts inside carried too much weight. Roz tapped the screen to life, her thumb hovering over her messages.
There Sam was, like always. Roz’s messages to her were a mix of teasing one-liners, sarcastic quips, and softer words Roz had never been brave enough to say aloud. Sam’s responses filled Roz’s screen—playful, warm, and unfiltered. Sam’s words had always been honest, even when Roz hadn’t deserved them.
Roz scrolled down, stopping on the last message Sam had sent days ago.
Her stomach twisted as she reread it. Roz had never responded. She’d let Sam down, again.
The knot in her chest grew tighter as Roz clicked on a photo Sam had sent weeks earlier. It was nothing particularly grand—a candid selfie of Sam laughing at something Roz had texted her, the firehouse kitchen visible in the background. Roz stared at the picture, her throat constricting.
Sam was beautiful in ways Roz didn’t know how to explain. She wasn’t polished or untouchable like the people Roz typically encountered in her world. Sam was real, raw, steady, andalive.
Roz let the phone slip into her lap, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.
Sam had gotten under her skin in ways no one else ever had. Roz had tried to keep her at a distance, tried to tell herself thattheir stolen moments didn’t matter. But Olivia had been right, Roz cared. She caredtoo much.And that terrified her.
What if Sam did leave? What if Roz couldn’t live up to what Sam deserved?
The thought made her feel hollow. Her entire life, Roz had built herself to be untouchable, meticulous, focused, and perfect in every professional sense. She’d lived on her own terms, carved out her success in spite of her family’s pressures, but when it came to her heart, Roz had never dared to take risks.
And yet, with Sam, it was already too late.
Roz sighed, pushing off the couch. She needed to move anddosomething or she was going to drown in her own thoughts.
She walked aimlessly to the kitchen, pulling a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. The cold, unremarkable stillness of the apartment enveloped her again, and Roz found herself staring at her reflection in the window.
What the hell are you so afraid of?
Her mother’s voice battled against Olivia’s in her mind. Evelyn had drilled it into her since childhood: emotions were dangerous, a weakness, a distraction. And Roz had swallowed that belief for years, burying her vulnerabilities so deeply that sometimes she didn’t even think shehadany.
But Sam had cracked her open, effortlessly, without even trying.
Roz’s fingers curled around the glass.
Roz inhaled shakily, closing her eyes. Olivia had been right about one thing, she was afraid. Afraid of being seen. Afraid of being enough and still not being chosen.
But wasn’t Sam worth the risk?
Roz opened her eyes and turned sharply, her phone still sitting on the couch. She stared at it for a moment beforecrossing the room and sinking back onto the cushions. Her fingers hovered over the screen, her pulse hammering as she tapped into her message thread with Sam.
She typed:“I’m sorry.”
Her thumb hovered over the send button, then she deleted the text.
She typed again:“I miss you.”
Another pause. Delete.
