“For what?”
“For being here and not running when I—” She couldn’t finish, but she knew Jade would understand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jade said, and Maddox believed her.
Maddox sat there wrapped in Jade’s arms as evening deepened into night, and for the first time in longer than Maddox could remember, the quiet didn’t feel hollow.
She was home.
10
Jade woke to the weight of Maddox's arm across her stomach.
She lay still for a moment, listening to Maddox's breathing against her shoulder—deep and even. The bedroom was quiet, and the early morning traffic only a distant hum through the windows.
“I'm falling in love with you.”
Maddox had said it last night, her voice rough like admitting her feelings was foreign to her. And Jade had told her it wasn't too much or too fast; she had held her face and said she was scared too. She had given everything except those same words back.
She needed to think.
Carefully, Jade slid out from under Maddox's arm. The mattress shifted and she paused, but Maddox just made a small sound and rolled onto her stomach, her face pressed into the pillow. Still out.
Jade pulled on her robe and padded to the kitchen.
The coffee maker was loud in the quiet apartment, but Maddox didn't stir. Jade stood at the counter while it brewed, arms crossed, staring at nothing.
She'd wanted to say it back. Of course she did. The words had been right there, sitting in her throat. But her ex's voice had gotten there first: “You're exhausting, Jade. Can't you just be less intense about everything?”
Three years of being told she felt too much, wanted too much, needed too much. Three years of making herself smaller, quieter, less.
And still it hadn't been enough.
So when Maddox said those words yesterday—vulnerable and uncertain and brave—Jade had choked.
The coffee maker beeped. She poured two mugs, added sugar and cream to hers and left Maddox's black how she liked it.
The thing was, she knew what she felt. She’d known for weeks, maybe. Since Maddox laughed during the K-9 demo or the coffee shop conversation that went too long or the first time they'd slept together and Maddox had looked at her like she really saw her.
She was falling for Maddox, had been falling, might already have fallen.
But saying it out loud made it real. It made it something that could break her if it went wrong. And Maddox was just starting to let her walls down—what if this was too much too fast? What if Jade said it and Maddox panicked then rebuilt her walls?
She heard light footsteps behind her.
"Hey," Maddox said, voice like gravel from sleep.
Jade turned. Maddox stood in the doorway in just her t-shirt and underwear, hair sticking up on one side, looking rumpled and uncertain.
"Hey." Jade picked up the second mug and held it out. "Made you coffee."
"Thanks." Maddox took it, their fingers brushing. She leaned against the counter, cradling the mug but not drinking it yet, just holding it.
They stood in silence for a moment. Jade could see Maddox working up to something, the muscles in her jaw tensing and releasing.
"I meant it," Maddox said finally. "Last night. What I said."
Jade's chest tightened. "I know."
