No, not moon. Observe professionally.
She grabbed her water bottle, took a long drink, and made herself focus on arranging pamphlets that didn’t need arranging.
The thing was, the elementary school visit had changed something. Or maybe it revealed something that had been building all along. Working with Maddox had felt easy in a way Jade had never expected. The rhythm of their collaboration, the way they read each other’s cues without needing discussion, the comfortable silences that settled between them.
And Maddox had laughed, really laughed, and later admitted she never laughed.
The vulnerability of that moment had lodged itself somewhere in Jade’s chest and taken up residence there. She tried telling herself it was professional satisfaction from progress in therapy and a client opening up.
But their dynamic had shifted beyond just therapist and client. Their weekly sessions continued but the adversarial edge had dulled, and the out-of-office work was blurring lines Jade knew she should keep sharp.
Movement at the edge of her vision pulled at Jade’s attention. An older man stood near the back of the crowd watching Maddox’s demonstration, but something about his stance set off alarms in Jade’s head. He wore a Vietnam-era military jacket despite the mild April temperature, and his hands were clenched at his sides.
Jade tracked him peripherally while engaging with a woman asking about anxiety resources. The veteran—she was certain now—moved closer to the demo area as the crowd shifted, but it was clear his breathing had gone shallow and quick. She could see it from here, the way his chest heaved and the rigidity in his shoulders.
Triggered, definitely triggered.
The demo wrapped up, and families surged forward for the supervised Zeus-petting portion. The veteran hung back, drawn to the dogs but struggling. Jade watched his hands shake, watched him take a half-step forward then stop himself.
She started moving before she’d consciously decided to.
“Excuse me,” she said to the woman she’d been helping, passing her a full stack of papers. “Take whatever you need. I’ll be right back.”
The veteran was closer now, watching Zeus with an intensity that bordered on desperate. Zeus, for his part, sensed something, and his ears swiveled and his attention shifted from the children to the man hovering at the crowd’s edge.
Maddox noticed too. Of course she did. Her gaze flicked to the veteran, then to Jade approaching, and something passed between them. Jade slowed her approach, making herself non-threatening. The last thing this man needed was someone rushing at him.
“Hi,” she said, keeping her voice low and calm. “I’m Jade. Are you here for the wellness fair?”
The veteran’s eyes were unfocused, somewhere else entirely. “The dogs. I just wanted to see the dogs.”
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they? Belgian Malinois. Incredible working dogs.”
He nodded, but his breathing was getting more ragged. Jade clocked he was beginning to hyperventilate. Sixty seconds, maybe ninety, before full panic set in.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Robert.” The word came out strangled.
“Robert, I’m a trauma counselor. Can I help you find somewhere quieter? There is a lot of noise and people.”
He looked at her then, really looked, and she saw the terror underneath. The recognition that he was losing control in a public space, that he couldn’t stop it, that everyone would see.
“I’m okay,” he said, the most obvious lie in the world. “I just need— I should go?—”
Maddox appeared at Jade’s shoulder. She didn’t touch Robert or crowd him, just positioned herself at an angle that blocked some of the audience’s view.
“There’s a quieter room this way,” Maddox said, her voice carrying the same calm authority she used with Zeus. “We can step away for a minute. No pressure.”
Robert’s gaze went to Maddox’s uniform, and for a second, Jade thought he might bolt. But then his eyes found Zeus, still sitting at Maddox’s side, and something in him steadied fractionally.
“Okay,” he managed. “Okay.”
Maddox led them toward a side room Jade hadn’t noticed that was smaller and away from the main hall’s chaos. Zeus walked beside Robert instead of at Maddox’s heel, a deliberate choice that Robert seemed to register somewhere through the panic.
The room was quieter with fewer stimuli, just the three of them, Zeus, and the sound of Robert’s labored breathing.
“You’re safe,” Jade said, standing where Robert could see her without feeling cornered. “What you’re feeling right now is temporary. Your body thinks there’s danger, but there isn’t. You’re safe.”
