Page 66 of Dr. Roz Harrington
“I needed to see you,” Roz said softly, pushing off the car. Her hands were buried in the pockets of her jacket, her shoulders tense as though every muscle in her body was resisting the urge to flee.
Sam swallowed hard, keeping her feet firmly planted where they were. She was torn between wanting to demand answers and turning on her heel to leave Roz standing there alone, just like Roz had left her.
Her frustration rose, hot and bitter, but she didn’t say anything yet. She just stood there, fists curling at her sides as she stared at the woman in front of her, the woman who still managed to make her heart pound, no matter how much she wanted to hate her.
Roz shifted her weight, her gaze unwavering despite the clear nerves in her posture. She exhaled slowly, deeply, as though steadying herself.
“I know you don’t want to see me,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “And I know I don’t deserve to show up like this. But…I needed to.”
Sam didn’t move. The words barely made a dent in the shield she’d thrown up around herself.
“You don’t get to just show up, Roz,” Sam replied, her voice low and biting. “Not after everything.”
“I know.”
The admission came softly, but it didn’t carry the smug arrogance Sam had come to expect from Roz. Instead, there was regret woven into the syllables, and it threw Sam off balance.
She wanted to say more, wanted to throw every hurtful word she’d held back right into Roz’s face, but instead, she stood there stiffly, heart pounding in her ears.
The silence between them stretched, thick and tense. It was Roz who finally spoke, her voice gentler now, almost hesitant.
“Can we talk?”
Sam let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Now you want to talk?”
Roz flinched again, just slightly, but this time she didn’t back down.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “Now.”
Sam’s heart warred with itself, anger colliding with something softer, something she wasn’t ready to name. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her stance still defensive.
“I don’t think I have anything to say to you, Roz.”
Roz’s shoulders fell just slightly, but her eyes held steady.
“Then let me talk.”
For a long moment, Sam said nothing. She stood there, glaring at the woman who’d torn her heart in two, waiting for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t make a difference anyway.
But despite herself, despite everything, Sam’s body betrayed her. She didn’t walk away. She stayed rooted in place, waiting to see what Roz had to say.
Roz exhaled again, and in that moment, she looked more fragile than Sam had ever seen her. Vulnerable. Real.
Sam’s chest tightened.
The words Roz was preparing to say were sitting right on the edge of her lips, and Sam could feel it, the heaviness, the tension, the pull that had always existed between them.
But she couldn’t let herself soften yet. Not after everything.
So Sam stood there, arms crossed, chin tilted stubbornly upward, and waited.
“Fine,” she said finally, her voice sharp. “Talk.”
The silence between them felt like a tangible thing, heavy and unmoving. Roz stood only a few steps away, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her jacket as though they were the only things keeping her steady. Sam stood her ground, arms crossed, every muscle in her body locked in tension. Her expression was sharp and guarded, but her eyes betrayed the storm beneath.
Roz inhaled, a shaky breath that she tried to steady before speaking.
“I owe you an explanation.” Her voice was soft but firm, as though forcing herself to hold steady. “I owe you more than that. But I don’t even know where to start.”
