Chapter 8
Jade woke to the weight of warmth along her side and the sound of breathing that wasn’t her own.
For a moment, she lay still in the gray pre-dawn light filtering through her bedroom window, letting her brain catch up with her body.
The sheets were tangled around her legs.
Her arm had fallen asleep beneath something solid.
Maddox.
The memory of last night came back in fragments: Maddox at her door, the kiss that broke everything open, and the slow unraveling of walls and clothing and fear. The way Maddox had looked at her, terrified and wanting, choosing vulnerability over everything else.
Jade shifted slightly, careful not to wake her.
Maddox lay on her side facing Jade, one arm draped across Jade’s waist like an anchor.
Her face was peaceful in sleep, the constant tension that lived in her jaw finally smoothed away, and her short-cropped dark hair stuck up at odd angles.
Jade’s eyes traced the small crease on Maddox’s cheek from the pillowcase.
She looked younger like this, more unguarded.
Jade’s chest squeezed tightly. This was Maddox Shaw, the woman who’d spent two months building walls so high Jade had wondered if she’d ever find a way through.
The same woman who’d opened up yesterday about losing Titan, who’d shown up at Jade’s door last night with her hands shaking and walls completely down.
The woman who’d stayed.
Jade allowed her gaze to linger on Maddox’s bare shoulder peeking out above the sheet, the curve of the lean muscle on her arm, and the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing.
Evidence of the night before was written in small marks on her skin, places where Jade had gently nipped at her soft skin when desire consumed her, where her hands had clung tightly to keep her close, where her mouth left light red Os when she kissed up and down her neck.
She knew she should probably feel more conflicted about this, should be spiraling about ethics and professional boundaries and the fact that less than twenty-four hours ago, Maddox had been sitting in her therapy office.
She’d let herself spiral later. Right now, she just wanted to stay in this moment where nothing had gone wrong yet.
Maddox’s eyes fluttered open. The shift was subtle.
One moment, she was asleep, the next awake and aware.
Her gaze found Jade’s immediately, and for a handful of seconds, neither of them moved.
Jade watched the emotions cross Maddox’s face: confusion, recognition, memory, then something that looked like barely contained panic.
“Hey,” Jade said quietly.
Maddox’s arm tightened fractionally around her waist. “Hey. How long have you been awake?”
“A while.”
Jade’s heart did that complicated flip again. Maddox had woken up, probably panicking, but fought every instinct to bolt.
“You okay?” Jade asked.
Maddox’s jaw worked like she was chewing on the answer. “I don’t know yet,” she said finally. “Ask me again in an hour.”
It startled a laugh out of Jade, small and surprised. Maddox’s mouth quirked at the corners, not quite a smile but close.
“For the record,” Jade said, “I don’t regret this.”
“Yeah?” Maddox’s voice sounded like it traveled over the sharp edges of glass in her throat. “You still might change your mind when you think about the consequences.”
“I’ve already thought about them.”
“And?”
“And I still don’t regret it.” Jade shifted onto her side so they were facing each other properly. Maddox’s arm still draped over her hip. “Do you? Regret it?”
Maddox was quiet, her eyes tracking across Jade’s face like she was searching for something. “No,” she said finally. “I’m terrified, but I don’t regret this.”
Their admission hung between them, honest and unvarnished. Through her pulse pounding in her ears, she could hear the birds tweeting and the distant sound of a car passing her building, reality creeping in around the edges.
Maddox must’ve felt it, too, because her expression shifted. “I need to get home. Zeus has been alone all night, and he needs to go for a walk.”
Jade pushed down the small sting of disappointment. “Okay.”
Maddox didn’t move. Instead, her hand flexed against Jade’s hip, her thumb brushing bare skin.
“Do you want coffee first?” Jade asked. “Or maybe—”
“I need to shower at home and get ready for my shift.” Maddox’s eyes dropped to somewhere around Jade’s collarbone. “I…I didn’t exactly plan this. No clothes or anything.”
Jade felt her lips tug and suppressed the smile from fully forming. Maddox’s awkwardness as she fumbled through the moment was endearing in its own way. She let out a soft, contented sigh. “Of course.”
Maddox lay there another moment, not moving. Jade could feel Maddox’s reluctance in the tension of her arm and the way she wasn’t quite meeting Jade’s eyes, like maybe if they stayed in this bed they could postpone whatever came next.
But Zeus was waiting. And they both had work. And lying here wouldn’t make the complications disappear.
“Come on,” Jade said gently. She pushed herself up, immediately missing the warmth of Maddox’s body against hers. The morning air was cool on her bare skin.
Maddox sat up more slowly, the sheet pooling at her waist. Her hair was a disaster and stuck up in random directions, and Jade had to physically stop herself from reaching out to smooth it down.
They dressed in silence, Jade pulling on a tank top and slacks from her dresser and Maddox gathering her clothes from where they’d been abandoned on the floor. It felt too intimate yet not intimate enough.
When they were both dressed, they stood facing each other near the bedroom door. Maddox’s hands hung at her sides, fingers flexing like she wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if she should or was allowed to.
“So…” Maddox said.
“So,” Jade echoed.
There was another beat of awkward silence while they stared at each other.
Despite herself, Jade’s eyes flicked downward to Maddox’s lips then back up at her eyes.
Then Maddox stepped forward and kissed her, brief and soft, nothing like the desperate kisses from last night.
When she pulled back, her eyes were clearer.
“I should say something,” she said. “About last night.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, I want to.” Maddox’s lips twitched to the side. “It was… I don’t regret any of it.”
“You already said that.”
“I know. I just…” Maddox stopped, clearly struggling to form her words. “I want to make sure you know that this wasn’t just…”
“Maddox.” Jade reached out, her fingers curling loosely around Maddox’s wrist. “I know.”
Some of the tension visible left Maddox’s shoulders, and they lowered a fraction of an inch. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Good.”
Jade walked her to the door, both of them moving slowly like they were trying to prolong the inevitable. At the threshold, Maddox turned back.
“When can I see you again?” The question came out tentative, but her eye contact was firm.
Jade’s chest tightened. “When do you want to?”
“Soon,” Maddox said immediately, but then retracted. “If that’s… I mean, if you want—”
“I want to,” Jade said.
Relief flashed across Maddox’s face. “Okay, good. I’ll text you.”
“I look forward to it.”
Maddox hesitated one more second, then stepped into the hallway. Jade watched her walk toward the stairs and saw her glance back once before disappearing around the corner. And then she was alone in her apartment with the door closed and the early morning light spilling across her floor.
Jade leaned against the closed door, letting out a long exhale.
Her sheets smelled like Maddox, there were two coffee mugs in her sink from last night, and the imprint of another body was still visible on her pillow.
All evidence of a line crossed and a boundary obliterated.
She should call Carla and process this immediately to figure out the ethical implications and make a plan for how to manage Maddox’s therapy moving forward.
She’d do all of that.
But first, she just stood there in her silent apartment, replaying the way Maddox had looked at her, her face cracked wide open and showing all her fear and wanting, but still choosing this anyway.
Eventually, she pushed off the door and padded to the kitchen, starting her daily morning ritual. The coffee maker gurgled and hissed, filling Jade’s apartment with a smell that usually brought comfort and signaled routine. This morning, though, it just meant time passing.
Jade stood at the counter in her tank top and slacks, watching the dark liquid drip into the pot. Her hair was still loose around her shoulders, and she needed to pull it back, finish getting dressed, and become Professional Jade who had her life together.
Instead, she was trying to figure out how to tell her mentor that she’d slept with a client.
Not trying to figure out if she should call Carla; that wasn’t even a question.
Carla had been her supervisor at the VA and encouraged her to take this contract position in Phoenix Ridge.
She’d become much more than just a professional mentor over the years.
Jade deeply respected her and her no-bullshit approach, even when it was uncomfortable.
Which made the conversation she needed to have significantly harder.
I slept with Maddox Shaw. Too blunt.
Something happened last night that we need to discuss. Too vague and evasive.
I crossed a professional boundary. It was technically accurate but felt like she was minimizing it.
Her phone buzzed on the counter, and Jade leaned over to look at it. A text from Carla: “Lunch today? Usual spot?”
Jade stared at the message. Carla always had an uncanny sense of timing, but Jade was grateful she didn’t have to text first.
She picked up her phone and typed back, “Yes. Need to talk about something. 12:30?”
Carla’s response came immediately. “I’ll be there.”