Chapter 6 #2
Maddox led them toward a side room Jade hadn’t noticed that was smaller and away from the main hall’s chaos. Zeus walked beside Robert instead of at Maddox’s heel, a deliberate choice that Robert seemed to register somewhere through the panic.
The room was quieter with fewer stimuli, just the three of them, Zeus, and the sound of Robert’s labored breathing.
“You’re safe,” Jade said, standing where Robert could see her without feeling cornered. “What you’re feeling right now is temporary. Your body thinks there’s danger, but there isn’t. You’re safe.”
Robert’s chest was heaving now, his hands gripping his knees. “Can’t…can’t breathe…”
“You’re breathing. I can see you breathing. It feels wrong, but your body knows what to do.” Jade kept her voice steady. “Can you feel your feet on the floor?”
He nodded, his eyes wild.
“That’s good. Focus on that. Feel the pressure of your feet against the floor. You’re here in this room in Phoenix Ridge, not anywhere else.”
Maddox had stepped back, giving Robert space, but she hadn’t left the room. Zeus sat beside her, watching Robert with those intelligent brown eyes, sensing distress without reacting to it.
“The crowd,” Robert managed between gasps. “Too many people, too loud. I thought I could—but then—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Jade said. “Just breathe with me. In through your nose slowly, out through your mouth slower.”
She demonstrated, exaggerating the movement so he could see and copy it. Robert tried to follow, failed, and tried again.
“That’s it. You’re doing it. Keep going.”
Minutes passed. Jade kept talking, grounding him in the present and kept reminding him that this, too, would pass. Slowly, incrementally, Robert’s breathing began to even out. The terror in his eyes receded, replaced by exhaustion and shame.
“I’m sorry,” he said when he could finally speak normally. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t apologize.” Jade’s voice was firm. “What just happened wasn’t weakness. That’s your nervous system doing exactly what it was trained to do. It kept you alive once, and now it’s trying to keep you safe, even when there’s no danger.”
Robert looked at her, something like hope flickering across his face. “You know about this stuff?”
“I do. I’m a trauma counselor, and I work with vets. What you just experienced was a panic attack. Common with PTSD and very treatable.”
“I haven’t talked to anyone about it.” The admission came out quiet, ashamed. “Didn’t think anyone would understand.”
“A lot of people understand.” Jade pulled out one of her cards and passed it to him. “You don’t have to do this alone. There are resources, people who’ve been through it, and treatment that works.”
Robert took the card and held it like it might crumble. “Thank you, really. I thought I was—” He didn’t finish the sentence.
“You’re not,” Jade said gently. “You’re having a normal reaction to abnormal circumstances. Your brain is doing its job. We can teach it to do it differently.”
Zeus shifted, and Robert’s attention went to him. “Can I— Would it be okay to pet him?”
Maddox stepped forward. “Zeus, easy.”
The dog moved closer and let Robert’s shaking hand rest on his head. Some of the tension bled out of Robert’s shoulders, and he stayed like that for a long moment, his hand on Zeus fur as his breathing finally stabilized.
“Dogs always helped,” he said quietly. “On tour, whenever we saw dogs, it meant we were somewhere safe, somewhere human.”
Maddox’s expression shifted, something Jade couldn’t quite read passing her face. “Zeus has that effect on people. He’s good at reminding you what matters.”
Robert managed a weak smile. “Yeah, he is.”
When Robert felt stable enough to leave, Jade walked him to the main entrance, made sure he had her card and the crisis line number, and confirmed he had transportation home.
He thanked her three more times, apologizing between each one, and she reassured him each time that there was nothing to apologize for.
By the time she returned to the main hall, the wellness fair had thinned out. Late afternoon now, families heading home for dinner and volunteers began to pack up tables.
Maddox stood near the PD setup, breaking down the demonstration area with Riley. Zeus lay nearby, next to Sarge, watching both officers with the patient stillness of a dog who knew the work was done for the day.
Jade knew she should go back to her own table to finish packing, but instead, she found herself walking toward Maddox.
Riley spotted her first and grinned. “There she is, the crisis management expert herself.”
“It was a team effort,” Jade said.
“Bullshit. You talked that guy down like it was nothing.” Riley glanced at Maddox. “She was impressive, right?”
Maddox’s eyes met Jade’s and held them for a beat longer than necessary. “She was.”
Two words, that was all, but something in Maddox’s voice made Jade’s stomach flip. Professional respect, she told herself. That’s all this is.
“I should finish packing up,” Jade said, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. “I’ll see you both later.”
She turned to go, but Maddox’s voice stopped her. “Jade.”
She looked back.
“Good work today.” Maddox’s expression was still guarded, but something had softened around the edges. “Robert was lucky you were here.”
The compliment lodged itself somewhere warm in Jade’s chest. “Thanks. You helped too. The quiet room, Zeus—it all made a difference.”
Maddox shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “I just did what made sense.”
Riley was watching them with undisguised interest, her grin widening. Jade felt suddenly exposed, like they were having a conversation on two levels, and Riley could hear both of them.
“Right. Well, see you around.” Jade fled before she could say something stupid, feeling Maddox’s gaze follow her across the room.
Back at her table, she busied herself with packing brochures into storage boxes, but her hands felt clumsy and her mind wouldn’t focus.
She kept replaying the way Maddox had looked at her, the confidence in that “good work today,” and the softness that had crept into her expression when she thought Jade wasn’t looking.
Stop. This isn’t helpful.
But her brain wouldn’t stop cataloging details. Working with Maddox felt like working with someone who spoke the same language and understood the same things without needing them explained.
Jade had thought she’d left that kind of partnership—with unspoken communication and trust built through shared purpose—behind when she’d left the military.
She hadn’t expected to find it again in a mid-sized coastal city doing trauma counseling work.
Or with someone who made her stomach flip with two words of praise.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard.”
Jade jumped. Maddox had somehow crossed the room without her noticing, Zeus at her side. The dog’s tail gave a small wag when he saw her.
“Just organizing,” Jade said, aware of how defensive she sounded.
“Riley’s heading out.” Maddox shifted her weight, and Jade realized with surprise that she was uncomfortable. “I was thinking…there’s a coffee shop a few blocks from here. Not the usual place cops go to. Quieter.”
Jade’s heart kicked against her ribs. “Coffee?”
“Unless you need to get back. I just thought—” Maddox cut herself off, her jaw visibly tightening. “Never mind, stupid idea.”
“It’s not stupid.” The words came out too quick and eager. Jade tried to modulate her tone. “Coffee sounds good. I could use some caffeine before the drive home.”
Something in Maddox’s face eased. “The Daily Grind two blocks north. You know it?”
“I’ll find it.”
“Want to meet in fifteen minutes? I need to get Zeus settled in the truck.”
“Yeah, fifteen minutes.”
Maddox nodded, not quite a smile tugging on her lips but close, and Zeus loped beside her. Jade watched them go, then forced herself to finish packing up her table with hands that wanted to shake.
It’s just coffee, she thought, trying to convince herself. Completely professional after an event.
But the flutter in her stomach felt distinctly unprofessional, and the way her mind kept returning to Maddox’s expression suggested this was territory she needed to navigate carefully.
Very carefully.
She grabbed the last box, hoisted it onto her hip, and headed for her car.
The Daily Grind was tucked between a used bookstore and a yoga studio, the kind of place that served actual coffee instead of desserts masquerading as drinks.
Jade found a corner table near the window while Maddox ordered something at the counter, Zeus presumably still settled in the bed of the truck outside.
When Maddox returned with two steaming mugs, she set one in front of Jade without asking what she wanted. It was black coffee, same as Maddox’s own.
“Good guess,” Jade said.
“You don’t seem like the type who needs twelve ingredients to make coffee drinkable.” Maddox settled into the chair across from her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Robert seemed stable when he left,” Jade said, breaking the silence. “I gave him my direct number. Sometimes follow-ups make all the difference.”
“Think he’ll use it?”
“Maybe. He was embarrassed, but he took the card.” Jade wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her skin. “Shame’s the biggest barrier. They think asking for help means they’re weak.”
Maddox’s expression shifted, something guarded flickering across her face. “Yeah.”
The single word carried weight, and Jade didn’t push. Instead she asked, “How often do you see panic attacks on calls?”
“More than people think. Usually, we’re called after the crisis, but sometimes…” Maddox trailed off and seemed to consider how much to share. “I’ve talked down a few guys in the middle of flashbacks. You learn to recognize the signs.”
“From your military training?”
“That and experience.” Maddox took a long drink of her coffee. “You were a combat medic in the Army, right?”