Both, Maddox thought grimly, unclipping Zeus’s lead and watching him trot toward his water bowl.It’s both.
She had six days until she had to do this again. Six days to shore up her defenses and make sure Jade Kessler didn’t get any further under her skin than she already had. It’d be fine. It had to be fine.
Wednesday brought quarterly qualifications, which meant Maddox spent the afternoon at the outdoor shooting range on the far edge of Phoenix Ridge PD property. The range was tucked between the treeline and a drainage ditch that always smelled faintly of rust and standing water, and Maddox preferred it out here away from the main building, away from the bullpen chatter and forced camaraderie that came with shift changes.
Twenty-four hours since the therapy session, and she still couldn’t get Jade’s question out of her head.Is it smart? Or is it lonely?
She fired her last magazine with more aggression than necessary, the recoil familiar and grounding against her palms, then set her service weapon down on the bench and pulled off her ear protection. Spring wind cut across the range, still cold enough to sting, carrying the smell of gunpowder and wet earth.
“Nice grouping.”
Maddox turned to find Riley Thorne collecting her own gear two stations down, her blonde hair pulled back in a bun that had started to come loose. She was grinning, which meant she was about to say something Maddox wouldn’t want to hear.
“You too,” Maddox said, because acknowledging competence was safe.
Riley walked over, holstering her weapon with the easy confidence of someone who’d been doing this for twelve years. Her German Shepherd, Sarge, was visible through the chain-link fence, lying in the shade of her K-9 vehicle with the patience of an older dog who’d done this routine a thousand times.
“Heard you’re in therapy now,” Riley said, loading her gear into her range bag. “Mandatory sessions with the new counselor.”
Of course she’d heard. Nothing stayed quiet in a department this small, especially when the chief was making wellness a priority and Maddox was apparently the flagship case study.
“News travels,” Maddox said in lieu of an actual answer.
“It’s a small department. Everyone knows when someone’s shitting their pants during a domestic.” Riley’s tone was ribbing. “How’s it going?”
Maddox set her jaw. “I wasn’t?—”
“Relax, Shaw. I’m not judging. We’ve all had calls that stick.” Riley zipped her bag shut and leaned against the bench, watching Maddox with the kind of casual assessment that came from years of working together. “So? The therapy helping or just pissing you off?”
“Waste of time,” Maddox said, focusing on cleaning her weapon with more attention than it needed. “She keeps asking about feelings like that matters when there’s a rifle pointed at someone’s head.”
“Yeah, therapists are annoying like that. Always wanting you to process shit instead of just shoving it down and getting back to work.” Riley’s voice was dry and edged with the dark humor that made her tolerable. “God forbid we actually deal with watching people die.”
Maddox’s hands stilled for half a second before continuing the familiar motions of fieldstripping. “I didn’t watch anyone die.”
“Not this time.” Riley pulled out her water bottle and took a long swig. “But we’ve both seen enough bodies to fill a morgue. Hell, last month, I responded to a hit and run. Seventeen years old with sneakers still on his feet. His mom showed up while I was securing the scene.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.” Riley capped the water bottle. “A therapist would probably tell me I’m supposed to feel something about that beyond, ‘well, that fucking sucked.’ But instead, I just went home, drank a beer, and didn’t think about it until right now.”
That was the thing about Riley. She didn’t dress it up or pretend the job was noble. She just did it, same as Maddox, and acknowledged that sometimes the best you could hope for was making it through the shift without falling apart.
“So what’s the new counselor like anyway?” Riley asked. “I heard she’s ex-military. Army medic or something.”
“Army, yeah.” Maddox reassembled her weapon efficiently, the pieces clicking together with satisfying precision. “She’s…persistent.”
“Persistent how? Like she actually gives a shit or like she’s checking boxes for her contract?”
Maddox considered that, surprised she had to think about it. “She gives a shit. Which is worse, honestly.”
Riley laughed, short and sharp. “Yeah, the ones who care are the worst. Can’t just blow them off and call it done.” She pushed away from the bench, slinging her range bag over her shoulder. “Chief’s serious about this whole wellness stuff, you know. I heard there’s even a committee forming.”
Maddox’s stomach dropped, though she kept her expression neutral. “Great. More meetings.”
“You’ll probably get roped into it. You’re basically the new poster child for ‘officer who needs wellness.’” Riley’s grin was wicked. “Congrats on being the department’s cautionary tale.”
“Fuck off, Thorne.”
