Jade had heard this story a hundred times in a dozen different versions. The details changed—police, fire, EMT,military—but the core remained the same. Someone suffering, someone watching them suffer, both of them drowning in silence.
“Here’s what I can tell you,” Jade said, leaning forward. “You can’t make him get help, but you can let him know it’s available, there’s no shame in it, and that you’ll be there whether he goes or not.”
The woman nodded, still crying, but something in her stance shifted. She was less collapsed, more determined.
“And you,” Jade continued, “you need support too. There’s a family support group that meets Tuesday evenings at Lavender’s. Partners of first responders. You don’t have to carry this alone.”
“Tuesday evenings?”
“Seven o’clock. No sign-ups, no pressure, just coffee and people who understand.”
The woman took another tissue and managed a watery smile. “Thank you, really.”
Jade watched her go, hoping she’d show up on Tuesday but knowing she might not. Planting seeds was half the work. Whether they took root and grew depended on factors beyond her control.
She straightened the brochures on her table—stress management, PTSD resources, peer support information—and let her gaze drift across the community center’s main hall. Lavender had outdone herself with this expansion. The space felt open and welcoming, with high ceilings and windows that let in the April afternoon light. The wellness fair had drawn a solid crowd: families with kids, older residents, a handful of veterans she’d clocked immediately by their bearing.
The Phoenix Ridge PD had set up near the far wall for a demonstration. Not a full K-9 demo like the school visit, just an abbreviated version. Maddox stood nearby with Zeus at her side,the dog’s attention laser-focused on her even as children darted past pointing and exclaiming.
Jade hadn’t planned to position her table within sight of the police setup. It’d just…happened. She’d arrived early, surveyed the layout, and somehow ended up here. It was a professional courtesy, she told herself. The fact she could watch Maddox work without being obvious about it was entirely coincidental.
Riley Thorne appeared at Jade’s table, Sarge padding beside her with the easy confidence of a dog who knew he was beloved. “Hey, Jade, how’s it going?”
“Steady. You?”
“Good. We’re doing shifts with the demo. I’m up after Maddox finishes.” Riley glanced toward the police setup. “Solid turnout today. Way better than last year.”
“The community center expansion probably helped. There’s more space, more visibility.”
“Yeah, Lavender really outdid herself.” Riley scratched behind Sarge’s ears. “The school demo went well, too, from what I heard. Kids are still talking about Zeus, apparently.”
“It was a good program.”
“Maddox said you made it easier, having someone there who actually gets what we do.” Riley’s expression was genuinely friendly, rare for her. “Anyway, I need to get Sarge ready. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
Riley moved off toward the PD area, and Jade found herself watching Maddox again. The demo hadn’t started yet, but Maddox was already in work mode scanning the crowd and setting up.
Always switched on.
Jade recognized the pattern because she’d lived it herself. The hypervigilance that became background noise, so constant that you forgot it was there until someone pointed it out.
A family approached her table, young parents with a toddler who immediately grabbed for the brochures. Jade spent the next ten minutes talking about early intervention programs, aware even as she spoke that Maddox’s demo had started across the hall.
She heard Zeus’s bark, sharp and controlled, and the collective gasp of the crowd. Maddox’s voice carried across the space as she explained search and rescue protocols.
When the family moved on, Jade let herself watch. Maddox was in her element, and Zeus worked beside her, responding to commands Jade couldn’t hear over the din. The partnership between them was seamless, the perfect synchronization of intent and action.
Jade realized what she was doing and immediately felt her face heat. Inappropriate. Completely inappropriate.
But watching Maddox work was like watching someone speak a language fluently. There was an elegance to it, a quiet confidence that didn’t need to announce itself. Maddox commanded the space without raising her voice and held the crowd captive without performing for their attention.
And when a little girl approached her, Maddox’s whole posture softened in that way Jade had only seen a handful of times. She crouched low to the girl’s level, guided her hand to Zeus’s shoulder, and murmured something that made the girl giggle.
The walls came down for children and dogs. For everything—and everyone—else, they stayed firmly in place.
Jade forced her attention back to her own table. This wasn’t helpful. She was here to give resources, not moon over?—
