Chapter 13 Sam
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?”
“Not happening,” Jack said quietly. “Not until you talk to me.”
His words landed harder than she expected. Sam stopped pacing, her back still to him, and gripped the edge of the whiteboard with both hands. The tension in her shoulders gave way just slightly, and she let her head dip forward.
For a moment, there was silence. The sounds of the firehouse buzzed faintly outside the office, someone laughing, the sound of a wrench hitting concrete.
Then Sam exhaled, long and heavy. “It’s Roz.”
Jack blinked. “Roz?”
Sam turned around finally, leaning back against the board. Her arms folded over her chest like armor, but her voice had lost its edge. “Rosalind Harrington. The surgeon.”
Jack straightened a little, his eyebrows lifting. “Okay…?”
Sam ran a hand over her face, forcing the words out like they pained her. “We’ve been…seeing each other. For months. And now it’s over.”
Jack’s expression shifted, surprise flickering across his face before it settled into something quieter. “What happened?”
Sam hesitated. The words were there, but they scraped against something raw. She swallowed hard before continuing. “Her mother found out. Evelyn Harrington.”
“Evelyn Harrington?” Jack repeated, whistling low. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” Sam let out a humorless laugh, her arms tightening around herself. “She walked in on us in Roz’s office at the hospital. Roz barely said a word before she shut me out. Just told me to go. Like I didn’t matter.”
Jack leaned against the desk, his eyes never leaving Sam. “That’s brutal.”
Sam scoffed, bitterness creeping into her voice. “Brutal’s one way to put it.” She pushed off the board, pacing again, the frustration rolling off her in waves. “And the worst part is I wanted to fight for her. I still do. But she didn’t even give me the chance.”
Jack stayed quiet for a moment, letting the weight of Sam’s words settle. Then he said, carefully, “You love her?”
Sam stopped mid-step. The question hung in the air, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at him. Her throat tightened, and when she finally spoke, her voice was rough. “Yeah. I do.”
Jack nodded slowly, as if piecing it all together. “And she let her mother call the shots.”
Sam laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “That’s Roz. Always worrying about what people see, what they think. She’s spent her whole life proving she’s good enough, and now…now it’s like I’m just another risk she doesn’t want to take.”
“Or maybe you’re the only risk she’s ever wanted to take.”
Sam frowned, turning to look at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jack shrugged. “I mean…you said it yourself. She doesn’t let people in. Maybe you scared the hell out of her.”
Sam let the words sink in, but they didn’t bring her any comfort. “That doesn’t make it any easier, Jack.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Jack pushed off the desk and stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. “But you’re not wrong for feeling this way. You put yourself out there, Sam. That takes guts.”
Sam looked away, the tightness in her chest refusing to ease. “It feels like a mistake.”
“It’s not.” Jack squeezed her shoulder gently. “You care about her. That’s not a mistake, it’s who you are. You care about people even when it’s messy and hard.”
Sam blinked hard, her jaw clenching as she fought back the burn in her eyes. Jack didn’t say anything else, just let his hand rest on her shoulder as the silence stretched between them.
Finally, Sam exhaled shakily and nodded. “Thanks, Jack.”
“Any time,” he said quietly. “And Sam?”
She looked up at him.
“This isn’t over,” he said. “Not if you don’t want it to be.”
Sam didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Because as much as she wanted to believe Jack was right, that this wasn’t over, she wasn’t sure she could keep hoping for Roz to fight for her.
The quiet that followed Jack’s words felt heavier than the noise of the firehouse outside. Sam’s chest ached, and for the first time in days, she wasn’t sure she could keep it all inside anymore. She sank onto the bench that ran along the lockers, her head falling into her hands.
“I just—” She paused, her voice breaking slightly. “I don’t understand how she could let this happen. How she could let her mother have that kind of power over her. I thought… I thought we were more than that.”
Jack sat down beside her, staying quiet. Sam didn’t need anyone to fix it. She just needed someone to hear her.
“You weren’t just a fling, huh?” he said softly.
Sam let out a hollow laugh, wiping at her face roughly. “No. God, no. It wasn’t like that.” She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. “You know, at first, it was like we couldn’t stop clashing. She’s the most infuriating person I’ve ever met—arrogant, stubborn, impossible. But then…”
Jack waited, watching her closely.
Sam leaned back against the cold metal of the lockers, staring up at the ceiling as if she could find answers there.
“Then she smiled. She looked at me a certain way, and I realized that underneath all the armor, there’s someone who cares so damn much it’s scary for her.
I got to see that part of her, this softness she never shows anyone else. And I thought…”
“You thought you were safe with each other,” Jack finished quietly.
Sam nodded, pressing her lips together. “Yeah.”
The firehouse seemed to close in on her, the space where she had always been in control, where her leadership had always come so naturally. But now? It all felt like it was falling apart. She could feel Jack’s eyes on her, waiting patiently for her to let it all out.
“She’s everything I didn’t know I wanted,” Sam admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “And now she’s gone. Because of her goddamn family. Because her mother couldn’t stand the idea of her being happy with someone like me.”
Jack tilted his head. “Someone like you? What does that mean?”
Sam clenched her fists against her thighs, her jaw tight. “I’m not some fancy doctor. I don’t come from money or prestige or…any of that bullshit. I’m just me, Jack. A firefighter from a working-class family. And apparently, that’s not good enough for the Harringtons.”
Jack’s face softened, but his voice stayed firm. “Sam, you know that’s crap, right? This isn’t about you not being ‘good enough.’ It’s about her. About her being scared to stand up for herself.”
Sam shook her head, frustration spilling over.
“But she could stand up for herself, Jack. She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met.
In the OR? She’s fearless. She’ll take risks no one else will take because she believes in herself that much.
But with this, with us, she folded. And I don’t know how to forgive her for that. ”
Jack didn’t answer right away. He let her words hang in the air, unchallenged. Sam’s shoulders slumped as the weight of everything she’d said finally started to settle over her.
“I don’t think this is about forgiving her,” Jack said at last, his tone measured. “I think you’re afraid of how much this is hurting you. You put yourself out there, Sam. You let her in. And that’s not easy for someone like you.”
Sam scoffed, turning her head away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”