She grabbed the last box, hoisted it onto her hip, and headed for her car.
The Daily Grind was tucked between a used bookstore and a yoga studio, the kind of place that served actual coffee instead of desserts masquerading as drinks. Jade found a corner table near the window while Maddox ordered something at the counter, Zeus presumably still settled in the bed of the truck outside.
When Maddox returned with two steaming mugs, she set one in front of Jade without asking what she wanted. It was black coffee, same as Maddox’s own.
“Good guess,” Jade said.
“You don’t seem like the type who needs twelve ingredients to make coffee drinkable.” Maddox settled into the chair across from her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
“Robert seemed stable when he left,” Jade said, breaking the silence. “I gave him my direct number. Sometimes follow-ups make all the difference.”
“Think he’ll use it?”
“Maybe. He was embarrassed, but he took the card.” Jade wrapped her hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into her skin. “Shame’s the biggest barrier. They think asking for help means they’re weak.”
Maddox’s expression shifted, something guarded flickering across her face. “Yeah.”
The single word carried weight, and Jade didn’t push. Instead she asked, “How often do you see panic attacks on calls?”
“More than people think. Usually, we’re called after the crisis, but sometimes…” Maddox trailed off and seemed to consider how much to share. “I’ve talked down a few guys in the middle of flashbacks. You learn to recognize the signs.”
“From your military training?”
“That and experience.” Maddox took a long drink of her coffee. “You were a combat medic in the Army, right?”
“Yeah, three tours. Afghanistan, Iraq, then back to Afghanistan.” The familiar recitation came easily. “I saw enough trauma to know I couldn’t keep working in it. Not like that.”
“So you became a therapist.”
“Eventually. It took me a while to figure out that’s what I needed.” Jade watched Maddox’s face carefully, seeing genuine interest instead of polite deflection. “I spent two years after discharge just…existing. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so disconnected from everything.”
“What changed?”
“Therapy, actually. Someone convinced me to try it, and I fought them the whole way.” Jade smiled at the memory. “Sounds familiar, right?”
Maddox’s mouth quirked. “Slightly.”
“Once I started processing my own stuff, I realized I wanted to help other people who’d made impossible choices and were carrying them alone do the same.” Jade’s fingers tightened around her mug, and she inhaled deeply. “I had a soldier die because I triaged someone else first. Marcus Lambert, nineteen years old, new father. I made the medically correct call…and he bled out ten feet away from me.”
Maddox stayed very still. “I’m sorry.”
“I know now that I did what I was trained to do, but knowing this doesn’t always help the guilt.” Jade met Maddox’s eyes. “That’s why I do this work. Because I know what it’s like to carry the weight of decisions that were rightanddevastating at the same time.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Maddox seemed to be processing, turning something over in her mind.
“K-9 work made sense after I left the Marines,” Maddox said finally. “Clear mission, straightforward purpose. Zeus doesn’t need me to explain myself or open up. He just needs me to be consistent.”
“It’s the perfect partnership.”
“Something like that.” Maddox’s eyes softened the way it did whenever she talked about Zeus. “There are no complications or misunderstandings, just trust and the work.”
Jade heard what wasn’t being said—that human relationships were far more complicated and likely to disappoint. “Is that why you moved to Phoenix Ridge? To get a fresh start?”
“Partly. Also to get distance from”—Maddox gestured vaguely—”everything. My ex, people who knew me from before, the whole mess.”
“I understand that.” Jade leaned back in her chair. “I came here after a breakup too. She told me I was too much—too emotional, too invested in my work, too intense about everything.”
“Well, that’s bullshit.”
