Chapter 9 Sam #2
As she stepped back into the hallway, the door clicking softly behind her, Sam exhaled a long, shaky breath. She lingered outside the room for a moment, her gaze unfocused as emotions churned in her chest.
Her thoughts turned, as they always seemed to now, to Roz. The tension they’d left unresolved gnawed at her like an ache she couldn’t shake. Sam couldn’t forget the way Roz had looked during the argument, defensive, yes, but also hurt.
Sam’s fists clenched and relaxed at her sides as she started walking, the rhythmic sound of her boots grounding her as she moved down the hall. She should’ve been angry, still was, but buried beneath that frustration was something she couldn’t quite name. A longing.
Roz had saved Lila’s life. Sam couldn’t deny that. And it wasn’t just skill that Sam had seen in the OR that day; it was resolve, courage, and a confidence that both infuriated her and stirred something deep within her.
Sam didn’t know how to reconcile it.
Pulling out her phone as she reached the hospital exit, she typed a quick message, her thumb hesitating over the send button for a long moment before she pressed it.
Sam: “She looks better today.”
The reply came minutes later, short and clinical.
Roz: “Good.”
Sam stared at the message for a beat too long, her jaw tightening. Roz’s walls were still up, and Sam wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep banging on them. But even as frustration curled in her chest, her thumb hovered over the screen.
She started typing, her message deliberate and sharp.
Sam: “I need to see you.”
The message sat there, staring back at her, challenging her to hit send. She knew this was messy, dangerous even, but Sam was tired of pretending she didn’t care, tired of Roz pretending she didn’t feel it too.
Her heart thumped once, hard, as she pressed send.
The reply was immediate.
Roz: “I’ll meet you outside.”
Sam’s pulse quickened as she tucked the phone into her pocket, her feet already carrying her back toward the parking lot. The anger, the longing, the confusion, it all tangled together, and for once, Sam wasn’t going to fight it.
Roz was waiting.
And Sam couldn’t stay away.
Sam spotted Roz before Roz saw her. The woman leaned casually against the hood of her car, bathed in the golden light of the hospital’s exterior lamps. From a distance, she looked unshakable, poised, composed, and untouchable as ever. It only made the knot in Sam’s chest tighten further.
Sam took a breath, forcing herself to stride forward, her heavy boots clicking against the pavement.
Roz’s head lifted at the sound, and for a brief moment, their eyes met.
Sam felt the impact of it like a blow to the chest. Roz’s gaze was sharp but unreadable, a mask carefully put in place, though something flickered beneath the surface, something vulnerable and raw.
“You don’t waste time,” Sam said as she stopped a few feet away, her voice rougher than she intended. The tension between them was as thick as the humid night air.
Roz arched a brow, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Neither do you, apparently.” Her tone was light, too light, and it set Sam on edge.
“I needed to see you,” Sam admitted, crossing her arms, her frustration barely contained. She hated how much control Roz always seemed to have, how she made Sam feel so…unsettled. “Are you going to stand there and act like none of this matters?”
Roz’s smirk faltered for just a second, but her posture didn’t shift. “What exactly do you want me to say, Sam?” she asked, her voice carefully measured. “That I regret saving her life? Because I don’t.”
Sam ran a hand through her hair, teeth gritted.
“It’s not just about the surgery, Roz. You made a call, and I—” She stopped herself, her voice catching.
“I was the one who held her hand, Roz. I was the one who promised her she’d be okay.
And then I had to watch you gamble with her life like it didn’t matter. ”
Roz’s expression flickered, her cool composure wavering. “It did matter. She mattered. And I did what I had to do.”
“And what if you were wrong?” Sam shot back, her voice louder now, cracking slightly with the weight of her emotions. “What if you’d lost her? Would you have been able to look me in the eye and say that?”
Roz didn’t answer immediately. She held Sam’s gaze, her green eyes clouded with something Sam couldn’t quite name.
When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, more controlled.
“You think I don’t ask myself that question every single time I step into an operating room?
” Roz’s tone sharpened, a rare edge of defensiveness in her words.
“I knew the risks, Sam, but I made the call because I had to. That’s what I do.
I take the responsibility no one else wants. ”
The words hung between them like a weight, both women breathing hard, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Sam felt herself softening despite it, because she knew Roz wasn’t lying. Roz carried the same burdens Sam did, even if she wore them differently.
Sam let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s not just that,” she admitted finally, her voice quieter now. “It’s you, Roz. You just…shut me out. You act like none of this affects you, like I don’t, ” She stopped abruptly, biting back the words that almost spilled out.
Roz looked at her then, really looked at her, and Sam saw something shift.
For a split second, Roz’s walls cracked, and the vulnerability Sam had glimpsed before peeked through.
Roz hesitated, her mouth opening as if she might say something, but instead, she gave a small, self-deprecating laugh and shook her head.
“You think too much, Sam,” Roz said softly, her lips quirking in a faint, teasing smile. “Always so serious.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “Don’t do that,” she said, her voice low and firm. “Don’t brush this off like it’s nothing.”
Roz tilted her head, the smile faltering as she held Sam’s gaze. For a long, heavy moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Roz finally dropped her gaze, exhaling as if she were carrying the weight of something she couldn’t say out loud.
“Go home, Sam,” Roz said, her voice softer this time, almost tired. “You’ve had a long day.”
Sam stared at her, anger flaring again. “You’re really good at that, aren’t you? Shutting people out.”
Roz didn’t reply, her face blank, the walls firmly back in place.
Sam felt the ache in her chest expand, frustration warring with the pull she still felt toward the woman standing in front of her.
She wanted to shout, to force Roz to say something, anything, that would make this easier.
But instead, Sam turned abruptly, her boots pounding against the pavement as she walked back toward her truck.
She didn’t look back.
The firehouse was dark and quiet when Sam finally made her way upstairs to her bunk. She dropped onto the edge of the bed, her shoulders heavy with exhaustion as she stared at the faint light of her phone on the nightstand.
The conversation replayed in her mind on an endless loop, Roz’s sharp words, the rare glimpse of something softer, and the way she always, always found a way to pull away before Sam could get too close.
Sam swiped her phone open, scrolling aimlessly through old messages, pausing on the brief exchanges with Roz. The clinical texts. The occasional teasing remarks. They were so her—distant and carefully controlled, always giving just enough to keep Sam hooked but never enough to let her in.
Sam flopped back onto her mattress with a heavy sigh, her hand draped across her face as she stared at the ceiling. Her chest ached with something she couldn’t name, a mix of anger, hurt, and something deeper, something raw and terrifying that she wasn’t ready to admit to herself.
Her phone buzzed suddenly, and she shot up, her pulse quickening.
But it wasn’t Roz. Just a weather alert.
Sam exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping as she fell back again, her phone still clutched in her hand.
For several minutes, she lay in silence, the faint hum of the firehouse filling the empty space around her. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, she typed out a message.
Sam: “I miss you.”
Her thumb hovered over the send button, doubt clawing at the edges of her resolve. But the words were already there, staring back at her, mocking her hesitation. Sam swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest as she hit send.
The message disappeared into the ether, the screen staring back at her with maddening emptiness.
Sam turned onto her side, the phone clutched tightly in her hand as she closed her eyes, hoping for sleep that she knew wouldn’t come.
Roz was out somewhere, and Sam couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Roz: “I will see you soon.”
Sam woke to the faint glow of dawn filtering through the windows, her body wrapped in warmth and a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in days.
The world was still, but she wasn’t alone.
Roz’s arms, strong and sure, encircled her, holding her close.
It was moments like these, when control and restraint melted away, that Sam didn’t know what to do with herself.
She shifted slightly, trying to stretch, and Roz’s low, sleepy murmur broke the silence. “Where do you think you’re going?” The quiet rasp of Roz’s voice sent a shiver through Sam, grounding her in place.
Sam let out a soft breath, her head still resting against Roz’s chest. “I wasn’t going anywhere,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“Good,” Roz replied, her tone laced with subtle amusement. “I like you right where you are.”
The pull between them was always strongest in moments like this, when neither of them had to play a role, when Sam could lean into Roz’s strength and Roz allowed a sliver of her softer side to show. Sam didn’t fight it. She couldn’t.