Chapter 8 #3
When Maddox walked through the door, her eyes found Jade immediately.
The tension was visible in her shoulders, the way her hand flexed at her side like she was resisting the urge to reach for something that wasn't there.
Zeus, probably, or her sidearm, which she kept locked in her vehicle when not on duty.
Jade stood as Maddox approached. For a second, neither of them seemed to know what to do—hug? Handshake? Stand awkwardly?—before Jade gestured to the chair across from her.
"Should I get coffee first?" Maddox asked.
"If you want,” Jade said, warmth tinging her voice.
Maddox ordered at the counter, her movements efficient, then returned with a plain black coffee and sat down. She wrapped both hands around the mug but didn't drink it. "So," Maddox said. "Your email sounded official."
"It kind of is." Jade took a breath to calm her nerves. "We need to talk about your therapy."
Something flickered across Maddox's face—understanding, maybe resignation. "Right. Because of last night."
"Because of us," Jade corrected gently. "I can't be your therapist anymore, Maddox. It's not ethical. There's no way to maintain a therapeutic relationship while we're..." She trailed off, realizing she didn't actually know what they were.
"While we're what?" Maddox's voice was careful, like she was trying to see how Jade perceived them.
"While we're trying to figure out what this is," Jade said. "If we're going to explore this, whatever it becomes, I can't also be your therapist."
Maddox was quiet, her thumbnail absentmindedly scratching the ceramic mug handle. "Okay."
"Okay?" Jade had expected more resistance or at least more questions.
"It makes sense." Maddox finally met her eyes. "I get it. Professional boundaries. You're saying I need to find someone else."
"I'm saying I already found someone else for you," Jade said.
"If you're willing, that is. My mentor, Carla, the one I've mentioned before, she's offered to take you on.
She has extensive experience with PTSD, and she's trained in EMDR, which might actually be really helpful for processing the Titan stuff. "
Maddox's thumb stilled on the mug at the mention of Titan, but she nodded slowly. "And if I don't want to transfer?"
Jade forced herself to hold Maddox's gaze. "Then you don't have to. Your therapy is your choice, but if you don't transfer, then we can't—" She stopped. "This can't happen."
"Right." Maddox looked down at her coffee. "Ethics."
"It's not just ethics," Jade said. "It's about doing this right. If we're going to try, I want to do it without that complication hanging over us."
Maddox was quiet for a long moment, and all Jade could hear was someone laughing at another table, the espresso machine hissing, and her own heartbeat thrumming in her ears.
"I'll transfer," Maddox said finally. "To Carla. If she's willing to take me."
Relief flooded Jade's chest. "She is. I already asked."
"Of course you did." There was a note of fondness laced in Maddox’s voice. "You're thorough."
“I try.”
There was another silence between them, less tense this time. Maddox took a sip of her coffee, grimaced slightly, and set it down again.
"So what does this mean?" Maddox asked. "For us."
Jade had been asking herself the same question all day. "I don't know," she admitted. "I know I want to see where this goes, and I know it's going to be complicated. We work in the same building and we're on the same committee. People are going to notice eventually."
"You want to keep it quiet," Maddox said. It wasn't a question.
"For now," Jade said slowly. "Not a secret—I'm not asking us to hide—but maybe private while we figure out what we're doing? Give ourselves space to mess up without an audience."
Maddox's mouth quirked slightly. "You think we're going to mess up?"
"I think we're both rusty at this." Jade surprised herself with a small smile. "And I don't know about you, but I'm terrible at navigating new relationships. My last one ended with my ex telling me I was exhausting."
"Mine ended with me being told I was emotionally unavailable," Maddox said. "So we're both coming in with baggage."
"At least it's balanced."
That earned an actual smile from Maddox, brief but real. "Fair enough."
They sat with that for a moment. Jade watched Maddox's fingers drum once against her mug, a nervous tell she probably didn't realize she had.
"I'm not good at this," Maddox said quietly. "Relationships, talking about feelings, any of it."
"I gathered that."
"I'm going to screw up," Maddox continued. "I'm going to pull away when I should lean in, and I'm going to shut down instead of talking. It's what I do."
"And I'm going to push when I should give space," Jade said. "I'm going to care too much and try to fix things that aren't mine to fix. That's what I do."
Maddox looked at her, something unreadable in her expression. "So we're both disasters."
"Apparently."
"But you still want to try."
It wasn't quite a question, but Jade answered anyway. "Yeah, I do."
"Me too," Maddox said, and something vulnerable flickered in her expression.
The conversation shifted to logistics about the practical realities of trying to date someone you worked with, even peripherally. They agreed to be professional at the precinct, no different than they'd been before. If anyone asked, they were colleagues, nothing more.
"At least not yet," Jade added. "We can decide later when—if—we want to tell people."
"If it becomes something worth telling people about," Maddox said.
"Right."
There was another pause, and Maddox checked her watch. “I should go. I need to grab Zeus from the unit and get him home. It’s been a long day for him.”
Jade smiled. “A long day for you too.”
“Yeah.” Maddox stood, and Jade stood with her. They ended up closer than Jade had planned, close enough that she could smell the coffee on Maddox’s breath and see the tiredness around her eyes.
"Thank you," Maddox said. "For figuring this out. The therapy thing. I know that couldn't have been easy."
"It wasn't," Jade admitted. "But it was necessary."
"Still, thank you."
They stood there another moment, neither quite wanting to leave. Then Maddox reached out and squeezed Jade's hand once, brief and warm, before stepping back.
"I'll text you," Maddox said. “About when we can see each other again.”
"I'd like that."
Maddox turned toward the door, and Jade watched her go, tracking her movement through the window as she walked to her vehicle parked at the curb on Main Street.
Then she was alone at the table with two coffee cups and the weight of what they'd just agreed to.
Jade sat back down slowly. Around her, Honey and Hearth continued its early evening rhythm.
The barista wiped down the counter, a couple at a nearby table shared a pastry, and soft acoustic music drifted from the speakers.
She pulled out her phone and texted Carla. “She agreed to transfer. First session next week?”
The response came quickly. “I'll reach out to her tomorrow to schedule. You doing okay?”
Jade typed back a response. “Yeah. I think so.”
It was true, mostly. She was doing okay. They'd navigated the hardest conversation and had chosen to try anyway. It wasn't a guarantee of success. Maddox could still bolt, and Jade could still overwhelm her. They could crash and burn spectacularly.
But they'd done it right. As right as they could, given the circumstances.
Jade finished her coffee and gathered her things and reflected. Tomorrow, they'd both show up at work and be professional colleagues like nothing had changed.
Except everything had changed.
Jade drove home with the windows down and let herself feel the ache of cautious hope settling in her chest.