Chapter 10 #2
"Three nights in a row." Leilani's voice was flat. "The same dream repeating the same moment when I realize we're not getting them out in time."
Jade listened. This was familiar territory: the dreams that replayed trauma, and the brain trying to process what couldn't be fixed. She asked about the details, the feelings, and the moments Leilani woke up.
"Have you tried the imagery rehearsal technique we discussed?" Jade asked.
"Yeah." Leilani rubbed her face, and there was a sharp edge in her tone. "It doesn't help. I just... I keep seeing their faces."
“The family?”
"My crew. Afterward." Leilani's voice cracked slightly. "The way they looked at me..."
Jade leaned forward slightly. "What do you think they were thinking and feeling?"
“That I failed.”
“Is that what they said?”
Leilani was quiet for a long moment. "No. But I know."
They worked through the cognitive distortions, the guilt that wasn't proportional to reality, and the weight Leilani was carrying that belonged to circumstance, not her personal failure. Jade had learned this herself the hard way.
Knowing you did everything right didn't stop the guilt from crushing you from the inside out.
By the time Leilani left, Jade felt wrung out. Holding space for that kind of pain took energy, even when you were trained for it. She now had a lunch break, forty-five minutes before her next client, and she quickly checked her phone notifications and saw a text from Maddox.
Maddox: “Lunch break. You eating?”
Jade: “Just finished a session. About to.”
Maddox: “Was it a rough one?”
Jade stared at the text. How did Maddox know? Then again, she probably recognized the timing of her texts, the slight delay in responding, the brevity.
Jade: “Firefighter with nightmares and survivor’s guilt.”
Maddox: “Yeah, that’s hard.”
There was a pause before her phone buzzed again.
Maddox: “You okay?”
Jade felt something warm settle in her chest. Maddox was checking on her, the way Jade always checked on others. It felt good to be seen and supported.
Jade: “Yeah, just need some lunch and more coffee.”
Maddox: “Wish I could bring you some.”
Jade: “Still on duty?”
Maddox: “Traffic patrol just ended. Heading back to the station for a quick bite.”
Jade: “Tell Zeus I said hi.”
Maddox: “He says hi back. Also that you should visit with treats.”
Jade smiled despite the heaviness still sitting in her chest from Stacy and Leilani's sessions. She pulled out the sandwich she'd packed this morning—a turkey and avocado she made while Maddox drank coffee next to her in her kitchen.
She ate at her desk, reviewing notes for her afternoon sessions. She had two more clients today, both routine check-ins. Nothing as heavy as this morning, which was good. She needed the balance.
Her phone buzzed once more, and she leaned over to look at it.
Maddox: “Thinking about you.”
Jade's chest tightened. She typed back, “Me too.”
It wasn't enough, she knew that. They weren’t the words Maddox had said last night, the ones Jade hadn't said back, but her feelings were true.
She set her phone aside, finished her lunch, and tried to re-focus on her work.
But her mind kept circling back to last night, to Maddox's voice, rough and vulnerable: I'm falling in love with you. The way she'd looked at Jade like she'd handed her something fragile and irreplaceable.
And Jade had said that it wasn't too much or too fast. She’d held Maddox and reassured her.
But…she had let her fear win and didn’t say it back.
The afternoon sessions passed in a blur. Jade was present—she was always present with clients; that was non-negotiable—but the moment each session ended, her thoughts drifted.
She was falling in love with Maddox, and tonight, she needed to tell her.
Not because Maddox had said it first and deserved reciprocation, but because it was true and Jade was tired of being afraid of her own feelings.
She packed up her things, locked the office, and headed to her car. Once she loaded her belongings in the passenger side and settled in the driver’s seat, she pulled out her phone and saw Maddox had texted her.
Maddox: “My shift ends at 6. Dinner at your place?”
Jade: “Yes. I'll cook.”
Maddox: “You sure? I can pick something up.”
Jade: “I'm sure. See you at 6:30?”
Maddox: “See you then.”
Jade drove home with the windows down, the spring air rushing in. The sun was still high, warm on her arm through the window.
Tonight, she'd tell Maddox the truth. But first, she needed to tell her something else, something she'd carried for years and shown to no one, trusted to no one.
If Maddox was brave enough to say she was falling in love, Jade could be brave enough to share the worst of herself—and hope Maddox stayed anyway.
By the time Jade pulled into her apartment complex, her decision to be completely, terrifyingly honest with Maddox crystallized.
She hauled her work bag up the stairs, unlocked her door, and immediately changed into something more comfortable—soft lounge pants and a faded Army t-shirt from her deployment days. The fabric was worn thin in places, familiar against her skin.
In the kitchen, she pulled out ingredients for pasta. It was nothing fancy, just something to keep her hands busy while they talked. Garlic, olive oil, cherry tomatoes from the farmer's market last weekend, and fresh basil she'd been keeping alive on the windowsill.
The routine steadied her. Chop the garlic, halve the tomatoes, set water to boil—simple tasks that didn't require thought, leaving her mind free to circle around what she needed to say.
Marcus Lambert.
She hadn't spoken his name aloud in years. Not to her ex, not to Carla in supervision, not to anyone. It lived in her chest like a stone, smooth and heavy from years of carrying it.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
Jade wiped her hands on a towel and crossed the room to open it.
Maddox stood there in civilian clothes—dark jeans, a charcoal-gray henley that brought out her eyes, and her signature leather jacket—and her hair was still damp from a shower.
She looked tired but lighter than this morning, some of the tension gone from her shoulders.
"Hey," Maddox said.
"Hey." Jade stepped back to let her in. "How was the rest of your shift?"
"Quiet. Two fender benders, one noise complaint, and Zeus spent most of it sleeping in the back." Maddox followed her into the kitchen and set a bottle of wine on the counter. "I brought red. Wasn't sure what you were making."
"Pasta. Red works."
They moved around each other easily now, Maddox finding the corkscrew without asking and Jade pulling down glasses. The water had started to boil, and Jade added salt and pasta, then stirred once.
"Need help?" Maddox asked.
"You can do the garlic." Jade handed her the cutting board and knife. "Just a rough chop, nothing fancy."
Maddox's knife work was efficient, the kind of competence that came from years of taking care of herself. Jade heated olive oil in a pan and added the garlic when Maddox slid it across to her. The familiar golden aroma filled the small kitchen, warm and savory.
"Long day?" Maddox asked, pouring wine into both glasses.
"I had two heavy sessions this morning." Jade added the tomatoes to the skillet with the garlic and watched them start to blister. "One of the firefighter’s nightmares are getting worse. She's carrying guilt that isn't hers to carry," Jade said quietly. "But knowing that doesn't help."
“No,” Maddox agreed. “It doesn’t.”
The pasta timer went off, and Jade checked to make sure it was al dente before she drained the pasta, tossed it with the tomatoes and garlic, and added torn basil and a splash of the pasta water. Simple comfort food, the kind her mom used to make after long shifts.
They ate at Jade's small table, the one that barely fit two people, and their knees bumped underneath it. Outside, the evening light was turning gold, stretching long shadows across the floor.
"This is good," Maddox said after a few bites.
"It's easy."
"Still delicious."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while. Jade watched Maddox twirl pasta around her fork then eat it. There was something calming for Jade about eating together, sharing space and food and quiet.
"Can I ask you something?" Maddox said eventually, breaking the silence.
Jade looked up. "Yeah, of course."
"This morning, when you said you needed time"—Maddox set her fork down carefully—"is that really what it is? Or are you trying to let me down easy?"
Jade's chest tightened. "No. God, no, that's not—" She reached across the table and clasped Maddox's hand. "That's not what I'm doing."
"Okay." Maddox's thumb brushed across her knuckles. "I just needed to know."
"I feel it too," Jade said quietly. "What you said last night, I feel it."
Maddox’s forehead muscles eased slightly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Jade squeezed her hand. "I'm just...I'm not good at this part. The saying it out loud part."
"You're a therapist. You talk for a living and help people communicate and process their feelings."
"That's different." Jade pulled her hand back and picked up her wine, grateful for something to do. "That's helping other people with their emotions and trauma. My own are harder."
Maddox was quiet for a moment, studying her. "Your ex really did a number on you."
"Three years of being told I was too much." Jade took a sip of wine. "It sticks with you."
"You're not too much."
"You said that this morning."
"I'll keep saying it until you believe me." Maddox's voice was firm. "Because it's true."
Jade felt something warm settle in her chest, something that felt like safety. Like maybe Maddox actually meant it.
They finished eating, then cleared the dishes together. Maddox washed while Jade dried, another routine forming without discussing who would do what. When the kitchen was clean, they moved to the couch with their wine glasses.