Chapter 10 Roz
ROZ
Roz had never been one for events like this—too much meaningless chatter, clinking glasses, and forced small talk.
It was all part of the job, though, and she wore her mask well, a polished professional wrapped in an elegant black suit that matched her sharp edges.
She kept a glass of champagne in her hand more for show than enjoyment, her sharp gaze occasionally scanning the room with boredom.
Until she saw her.
Sam.
It was as if the entire ballroom dimmed, and Roz’s focus honed in on one point.
Sam stood near the entrance, dressed in her formal firehouse uniform, crisp navy fabric hugging her form, the gold buttons and insignia a quiet testament to her leadership.
Her blonde hair was pinned back in that no-nonsense way that Roz always found frustratingly attractive.
But it wasn’t just how Sam looked; it was how she felt in a room, the kind of person who drew attention simply by existing. Commanding. Grounded. Solid.
And beautiful. Roz’s throat tightened.
Sam’s gaze swept across the room and stilled when it landed on Roz.
The air thickened instantly. Roz tried to hold her composure, lifting the champagne glass to her lips with deliberate ease, but the flutter in her chest betrayed her.
Sam’s blue eyes locked with hers, and for a moment, the connection was like fire and gasoline, an unspoken spark that neither of them could extinguish.
Roz forced herself to look away first, her heartbeat loud in her ears as she turned back to a donor she wasn’t listening to.
She nodded absently to whatever meaningless words were being said, but her mind raced.
Sam’s presence had a gravitational pull, one Roz couldn’t escape no matter how much distance she tried to put between them.
The weight of Sam’s gaze still lingered, like a touch Roz hadn’t asked for but didn’t want to lose.
Roz moved through the event with practiced grace, dodging conversations when she could and pretending to listen when she couldn’t. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of Sam’s eyes on her. It was like a low hum, a constant presence that frayed her edges.
I should leave, Roz thought, considering her exit for the third time. Before she could act, a familiar voice cut through her thoughts.
“Dr. Harrington.”
Roz turned, her spine straightening instinctively at the sound of Sam’s voice. She found Sam standing close, closer than Roz expected. The light caught in Sam’s hair, her features softer than usual, though her posture still radiated authority.
“Captain Quinn.” Roz’s tone was perfectly composed, but her pulse raced. She forced herself to hold Sam’s gaze without wavering. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a small, humorless smile. “I could say the same for you. This doesn’t seem like your kind of crowd.”
Roz shrugged, swirling the champagne in her glass, feigning disinterest. “I like to keep people on their toes.”
Sam’s gaze narrowed slightly, as though she saw right through Roz’s mask. “Is that what you’re doing? Keeping people guessing?”
Roz’s lips quirked. “It’s a talent.”
There was a beat of silence, an almost charged pause.
Roz watched as Sam studied her, those sharp blue eyes digging in deeper than Roz wanted to admit.
Sam’s voice softened just slightly, the challenge in it tempered with something quieter.
“You’re good at that, you know. Keeping people guessing. Keeping yourself out of reach.”
Roz’s throat tightened, but she deflected easily, smirking. “I’m sure you’ll survive not having me figured out, Captain.”
Sam didn’t smile back. Instead, her eyes darkened, her voice dipping low. “Is that what you think? That I don’t see you?”
Roz froze. For the first time that night, her carefully crafted walls faltered. Sam’s words cut through the armor she wore so tightly, hitting a nerve Roz hadn’t expected. She swallowed hard, shifting her weight.
“Don’t make this more than it is,” Roz said, her tone colder than she intended. It was a reflex, a defense mechanism that kept people at arm’s length. “You don’t know me, Sam.”
Sam’s jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face. “Maybe that’s because you don’t let anyone in.”
Roz opened her mouth to reply, but the words caught in her throat. She felt cornered, exposed in a way she hadn’t been in years, and Sam’s presence only heightened it. The tension between them was suffocating, thick with words neither of them dared to say.
Sam sighed, stepping back slightly, her expression softening. “Never mind,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have come over.”
Roz’s heart clenched as she watched Sam turn to leave, her broad shoulders rigid. Something inside her snapped—an impulse, an ache, a flicker of desperation—and before she knew what she was doing, Roz’s voice cut through the space between them.
“Sam.”
Sam paused, glancing back, her brows furrowing slightly.
Roz hesitated, the words she wanted to say fighting against years of learned restraint. She swallowed thickly, the pull toward Sam impossible to resist. “I…didn’t mean that.”
Sam tilted her head, studying her, waiting.
Roz took a step forward, the distance between them shrinking. Her voice was quieter now, softer. “You’re right. I keep people out. It’s safer that way.” She let out a slow breath, forcing herself to meet Sam’s gaze. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t see you, too.”
For a long moment, Sam said nothing, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, her lips curved into the faintest smile, just enough to make Roz’s heart skip a beat.
“I’ll see you around, Roz,” Sam said, her tone holding an edge of warmth that hadn’t been there before.
Roz watched as Sam walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know what had just happened, but she felt raw, stripped down to something she couldn’t quite define.
Later that night, Roz sat alone in her apartment, the events of the charity event playing in a continuous loop in her mind. Her untouched glass of wine sat on the table, the dim light casting deep shadows across the room.
The look on Sam’s face when Roz had shut her out haunted her. The frustration in those sharp blue eyes, the way Sam’s voice had softened when she said, “Maybe that’s because you don’t let anyone in.”
Roz leaned back on the couch, exhaling slowly. Sam wasn’t wrong. Roz had spent years perfecting the art of keeping people out. Control meant safety. Safety meant not having to face emotions that clawed at her chest when someone got too close.
But tonight, for a brief moment, Sam had cracked something open. Roz could still feel the heat of Sam’s gaze, the pull of her presence. It was maddening how easily Sam disrupted the carefully constructed walls Roz hid behind.
Her phone buzzed softly beside her, a message flashing on the screen.
Sam: “Still here. Balcony, west side.”
Roz’s heart skipped. She stared at the screen for a long moment, her pulse quickening. She could ignore it. She could let it pass, burying tonight with the rest of her vulnerabilities.
But something inside her wouldn’t let her.
With a quiet curse under her breath, Roz grabbed her coat and left.
Roz stepped out onto the wide balcony of the event venue. The cool night air kissed her skin, sharp against the hum of emotions swirling in her chest. The chatter and music inside faded to a dull hum behind her as she spotted Sam near the railing, hands tucked in her pockets, shoulders stiff.
Roz slowed, her steps soft as she approached. Sam turned her head slightly at the sound of footsteps, her sharp blue gaze finding Roz in an instant. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick, tense, charged, but not unkind.
“You’re still here,” Roz said, her voice low.
Sam smirked faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Couldn’t tear myself away from all the excitement.” Her tone was dry, but there was a flicker of warmth beneath it.
Roz walked up beside her, leaning on the railing, her shoulder close enough to Sam’s to feel the quiet heat radiating off her body. They stared out into the city lights together for a long beat, the quiet stretching between them.
“I didn’t mean to push you earlier,” Sam said finally, her voice softer now, rough around the edges. “But I meant what I said.”
Roz glanced at her, brow arching. “You’re always so good at saying exactly what you think.”
“And you’re good at pretending nothing touches you,” Sam shot back, though her voice lacked its earlier bite. She turned, folding her arms across her chest as she studied Roz carefully. “But that’s not true, is it?”
Roz stiffened slightly, her fingers curling over the cold metal railing. “You don’t know me, Sam,” she said quietly, the words almost a whisper.
“I’m trying to,” Sam said. “And whether you like it or not, I see you.”
Roz felt her chest tighten. The way Sam said it—so sure, so steady—unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. “You think you want to see me, but you don’t. You won’t like what’s there.”
“Try me,” Sam replied softly.
Roz looked at her then, really looked at her. The stubborn determination in Sam’s gaze made Roz feel stripped bare—her sharp wit, her walls, none of it worked against Sam. And for the first time in years, Roz didn’t want to run.
“I’m not used to this,” Roz admitted finally, her voice faltering. “People…seeing me. And then staying.”
Sam’s expression softened, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she stepped closer. “I don’t scare that easily, Roz.”
Roz held Sam’s gaze, searching her face as if looking for any hint of doubt. But there was none. Sam stood firm, solid and unshakable, as always, and Roz felt something inside her break loose. The space between them crackled, a pull neither of them could deny.