Page 10 of Dr. Roz Harrington
With that, Roz turned and walked away, leaving Sam standing in the hallway, her fists still clenched and her chest still tight. Relief, frustration, and something far more complicated swirled in her mind as she watched Roz disappear down the corridor.
For all her irritation, one thought remained: Roz Harrington was impossible to ignore.
4
ROZ
The end of a long shift was supposed to bring relief, but for Dr. Rosalind Harrington, it only seemed to amplify the weight on her shoulders. She sat at her desk in the surgical wing, staring at the screen in front of her, though the patient chart was nothing but a blur. The hospital had quieted for the night, but Roz’s mind churned with the noise of the day, the surgeries, the split-second decisions, and the unrelenting pressure of being the one everyone turned to when things went wrong.
Her thoughts inevitably circled back to the firefighter she’d operated on earlier. Ben Morales. Young, capable, and full of potential. She’d been confident in her plan and the surgery had gone well, but the stakes had felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was the way Sam Quinn had stood outside the OR doors, her piercing blue eyes filled with a mix of worry and defiance, daring Roz to do anything less than her best.
Roz leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her choppy pink hair. That woman had a way of getting under her skin, challenging her, frustrating her, and now, haunting her thoughts long after she left the hospital. Sam had thanked her earlier, but the tension in her voice had been palpable, and Rozcould still feel the heat of that unspoken challenge: Prove me wrong. Show me you’re worthy of my trust.
Exhaling sharply, Roz closed the chart and stood, grabbing her coat. It was late, and the exhaustion in her bones begged for sleep. She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped into the quiet hallway, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. She was halfway to the elevator when she saw her.
Sam Quinn was standing near the ICU, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She looked different now, her firehouse uniform replaced by a simple jacket and jeans, her hair slightly mussed as if she’d run her hands through it one too many times. There was a tiredness in her posture, a vulnerability that Roz hadn’t seen before.
Roz’s first instinct was to turn and leave. She wasn’t in the mood for another verbal sparring match, not tonight. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the way Sam’s shoulders sagged, or the faint shadow of worry in her expression. Whatever it was, Roz found herself walking toward her.
“Captain Quinn,” she said, her voice softer than usual. Sam looked up, and their eyes met. The sharpness Roz had come to expect wasn’t there. Instead, Sam just looked…tired.
“Dr. Harrington.” Sam’s voice was low, steady, but it lacked the usual edge. She uncrossed her arms and straightened, though the tension in her body was still visible.
“You’re here late,” Roz observed, stopping a few steps away.
Sam shrugged, her gaze flickering toward the ICU doors. “Wanted to check on Ben. It didn’t feel right leaving without knowing he was okay.”
Roz nodded, understanding the weight of those words more than she cared to admit. “He’s stable. The surgery went as well as it could have.” She paused. “He’s tough. I think he’ll pull through.”
Sam’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. “Thanks for that.”
There was a pause, the air between them heavy but not hostile. For once, Roz didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with sharp words or cutting observations. Instead, she found herself studying Sam, her broad frame, the way her hands fidgeted slightly at her sides, the exhaustion etched into her strong features.
“You look like you could use a break,” Roz said finally. “The café’s still open. Let me buy you a coffee.”
Sam blinked, clearly surprised. “You don’t strike me as the coffee-and-conversation type.”
Roz smirked faintly. “I’m not. But you look like you need it.”
Sam hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to figure out Roz’s angle. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. One coffee. But if this is some attempt to lecture me, I’m walking out.”
Roz raised an eyebrow, her smirk softening. “Noted.”
The walk to the café was quiet at first, the soft hum of the hospital at night filling the space between them. Roz kept her pace slow, glancing at Sam out of the corner of her eye. The other woman’s usual confidence seemed muted, replaced by a weariness that tugged at something in Roz’s chest.
“You’ve got a lot on your plate,” Roz said finally, her voice low but not unkind.
Sam glanced at her, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Not like you,” Roz replied, her tone matter-of-fact. “You carry your team like they’re your family. That’s rare.”
Sam looked away, her hands slipping into her jacket pockets. “Theyaremy family,” she said after a moment. “I’m responsible for them. When one of them gets hurt, it’s on me.”
Roz’s footsteps slowed. “You know that’s not true, right? You can’t predict or control everything.”
Sam let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Tell that to the part of my brain that won’t shut up about what I could’ve done differently.”
Roz didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she watched Sam, noting the way her shoulders seemed to hunch under the weight of her words. It was a familiar sight, one she’d seen in the mirror more times than she cared to admit.
