Chapter 2 #3
“I appreciate you being on time,” Jade said.
“Didn’t have a choice,” she said, her voice rough.
“You always have a choice, and you chose to show up.”
Maddox’s eyes narrowed slightly, just a flicker of something that might’ve been irritation or possibly interest. “Semantics.”
“Maybe.” Jade settled back in her chair, keeping her posture open and non-threatening. “But showing up is still a choice, even when it doesn’t feel like one.”
The silence stretched between them, and Jade let it sit and breathe, comfortable with the space.
Maddox was less so; Jade could see it in the minute tension around her shoulders and the way her fingers pressed slightly harder against her thighs.
It was clear she wanted to fill the silence or walk out the door to leave it behind.
But still, she didn’t move. One point to Maddox for discipline.
“Let me explain how this works,” Jade said, keeping her tone conversational and matter-of-fact. “This isn’t traditional therapy. Think of it more as a tactical debrief.”
Maddox’s shoulders dropped fractionally. Not much, but it was enough for Jade to notice the shift. Tactical language worked; it always did for military types.
“Like we discussed before, we’ll meet weekly for one hour each time,” Jade continued. “And what we discuss stays between us, unless you’re a danger to yourself or others. Standard confidentiality applies.”
“I’m not,” she said quickly.
“Good. Then this is your space.”
Maddox’s expression didn’t change, but something that looked like skepticism darkened in her eyes. “I don’t need space. I need to get back to work.”
“You will,” Jade said. “In fifty-eight minutes.”
The corner of Maddox’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but close, almost like she appreciated the bluntness. “Are you always this direct?”
“Usually.” Jade leaned forward slightly, just enough to make it feel like a conversation instead of an interrogation. “I don’t see the point in dancing around things. You’re here because Chief Marten mandated it. You don’t want to be here, and I’m not going to pretend that you do.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because you had a rough month with multiple high-stress calls, including the one last week with the armed domestic. And because Chief Marten knows you well enough to recognize when someone’s running on fumes.”
Maddox’s jaw tightened. “I handled that call by the book.”
“I read the report. You did handle it perfectly by all accounts.” Jade kept her voice even and non-judgmental. “That’s not the question.”
“Then what is?”
“What it cost you to handle it.”
The words landed heavier than Jade intended, or maybe exactly as heavy as they needed to. Maddox’s expression hardened, her defenses slamming back into place. She looked away toward the window, her jaw working like she was physically biting back a response.
“It didn’t cost me anything,” she said finally. “I did my job.”
“Okay.”
Maddox’s gaze snapped back to her. “Okay?”
“If that’s where you want to start, we’ll start there.” Jade picked up her black leather notebook and pen, more for something to hold than because she needed to take notes yet. “Tell me about the call. Walk me through it.”
“You read the report.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
Maddox stared at her for a long moment, visibly weighing whether to cooperate or shut down completely. Finally, she exhaled a short, controlled breath of someone forcing themselves to comply.
“Dispatch called it in just after two. A domestic disturbance with a possible weapon. I responded first.”
Her voice shifted into the same clinical tone from the report—factual, detached, emotionless.
She described the scene, the barricaded subject, the coordination with backup.
She talked about Zeus’s deployment and the successful apprehension of both the subject and weapon.
Every detail was precise, every word measured.
Jade listened without interrupting and watched how Maddox’s hands stayed perfectly still on her thighs and her breathing remained even despite talking about a situation where she’d sent her K-9 partner toward an armed man and how she didn’t blink when she talked about Zeus’s takedown.
She exhibited perfect control. Too perfect.
When Maddox finished, Jade let another silence settle between them before speaking. “And how did you feel during it?”
Maddox looked at her blankly. “I didn’t. I did my job.”
“You didn’t feel anything?”
“Feelings get in the way.” Maddox’s tone was flat, almost challenging. “You think, you assess, you act. Emotions slow you down.”
Jade nodded slowly. It was a classic response, the same thing she’d told herself for years in the field. “You’re right. In the moment, emotions can interfere with tactical decisions.”
Maddox looked almost surprised that Jade agreed.
“But afterward?” Jade continued. “When the scene’s secured and the paperwork’s filed and you’re back in your vehicle? What happens to those emotions then?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing to deal with.”
“Okay.”
Maddox’s eyes narrowed again. “You don’t believe me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Jade held her gaze, steady but not confrontational. “I’m not here to argue with you about what you feel or don’t feel. That’s not my job.”
“Then what is?”
“To show up and offer space if you decide you need it.” Jade set her notebook aside, leaning back in her chair.
“You’re in control here, Shaw. I’m not going to push you to talk about things you don’t want to discuss.
But I’m also not going to pretend that doing this work doesn’t require something of you. ”
Maddox’s expression didn’t change, but her fingers pressed harder against her legs. “Every job takes something out of you. That’s how jobs work.”
“True. But most jobs don’t involve sending your partner toward an armed suspect or require you to make split-second decisions that could end with someone dying.”
“Zeus knows what he’s doing. I trust him.”
“I’m sure you do,” Jade softened her voice slightly. “Tell me about him. How long have you been partnered?”
The shift was subtle, but Jade caught it. Maddox’s shoulders eased just a fraction, and her expression, though still guarded, lost some of its sharp edges.
“Five years. Since he was trained.”
“That’s a long time. You must have a strong bond.”
“He’s the best partner I’ve ever had.”
“Better than human partners?”
Maddox’s mouth curved slightly, not quite a smile but something approaching one. Dark humor that came from the job, probably. “Dogs don’t lie or have hidden agendas, and they don’t bail when things get complicated.”
There it was. A crack, small but real. But Jade didn’t push into it. Instead, she asked, “What’s he like off-duty?”
Maddox hesitated before answering. “Playful. When he’s not working, he’s just…a dog. He loves chasing balls and getting belly rubs, and he falls asleep on the couch even though he’s not supposed to.”
“It sounds like he trusts you completely.”
“He does,” Maddox said with zero hesitation.
“Does he trust anyone else?”
The walls came back up quickly. “Not really. He’s protective.”
“Of you?”
“That’s his job,” she said, and Jade perceived a note of defensiveness in her tone.
Jade nodded, filing away the information. Maddox trusted Zeus, and Zeus trusted only Maddox. The partnership was their safe space, the only relationship where Maddox allowed herself to be needed and to need in return.
It was a foundation to build on eventually.
“We’re almost out of time,” Jade said, checking the clock. “Before you go, is there anything you need from these sessions? Anything that would make showing up here easier?”
Maddox stood, her movements controlled and efficient. “Not having to show up would make it easier.”
“Fair enough. But given that’s not an option?”
She paused, then grudgingly said, “Don’t make me talk about feelings like they matter.”
“Noted.” Jade stood as well, maintaining her professional distance. “Same time next week?”
“Are you asking me because I have a choice?”
“Not really, but I’ll still see you on Tuesday at two.”
Maddox headed for the door, then stopped with her hand still on the handle but didn’t turn around. “For the record? This is still bureaucratic bullshit.”
“Also noted.”
The door closed behind her, firm but not slammed.
Jade stood in the quiet office, listening to Maddox’s footsteps fade down the hallway.
Jade looked out the window and saw Maddox cross the parking lot toward the K-9 building with that same measured stride, her shoulders back and chin up, but something about her posture looked heavier now.
Like the fifty-eight minutes had cost her something after all.
First session: survived. Five more to go.
The office felt different after Maddox left, quieter but not peaceful, like the air still held the shape of her resistance and the weight of everything she wouldn’t say.
Jade returned to her chair and sat in the space they’d shared, letting the session settle into her body before she tried to make sense of it with her mind.
This was part of the work too—the after.
Sitting with what a client brought into the room, what they left behind, and what they couldn’t yet carry.
She picked up her leather notebook and began writing clinical observations first, then the framework that would help her track progress and assess risk.
Client presents with classic PTSD symptoms: hypervigilance, emotional restriction, and avoidance (especially deflection when discussing trauma). She has significant defensive walls, likely a protective mechanism developed through the military and first responder culture.
Her pen paused over the page as she thought about the moment Maddox had softened talking about Zeus. The pride in her voice, the tenderness she’d probably denied existed.
There’s a strong bond with her K-9 partner that demonstrates capacity for trust and emotional connection within safe parameters. Potential therapeutic entry point?