"Okay." Maddox's thumb brushed across her knuckles. "I just needed to know."
"I feel it too," Jade said quietly. "What you said last night, I feel it."
Maddox’s forehead muscles eased slightly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Jade squeezed her hand. "I'm just...I'm not good at this part. The saying it out loud part."
"You're a therapist. You talk for a living and help people communicate and process their feelings."
"That's different." Jade pulled her hand back and picked up her wine, grateful for something to do. "That's helping other people with their emotions and trauma. My own are harder."
Maddox was quiet for a moment, studying her. "Your ex really did a number on you."
"Three years of being told I was too much." Jade took a sip of wine. "It sticks with you."
"You're not too much."
"You said that this morning."
"I'll keep saying it until you believe me." Maddox's voice was firm. "Because it's true."
Jade felt something warm settle in her chest, something that felt like safety. Like maybe Maddox actually meant it.
They finished eating, then cleared the dishes together. Maddox washed while Jade dried, another routine forming without discussing who would do what. When the kitchen was clean, they moved to the couch with their wine glasses.
Jade tucked her legs under her, intuitively angling her body toward Maddox. The apartment was quiet except for the faint sounds of traffic outside and hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Jade inhaled deeply, mustering the courage to expose herself.
"There's something I need to tell you," Jade said.
Maddox went still beside her. "Okay."
"It’s about my deployment, about why I left the Army." Jade's hands tightened around her wine glass. "I've never told anyone the whole story. Not even my ex."
"You don't have to?—"
"I want to," Jade interrupted. "You trusted me with Titan, your hardest thing, and I want to trust you with mine."
Maddox set her wine down and turned to face Jade fully. "I'm listening."
Jade took a breath, trying to find her words. After years of silence, they felt foreign on her tongue.
"His name was Marcus Lambert," she said finally. "He was nineteen years old, and I let him die."
Maddox didn’t speak or move, just waited for Jade to collect herself and share.
Jade set her wine glass down before her hands could shake. "Afghanistan, my second deployment. I was a combat medic with the 10th Mountain Division." The words felt mechanical, like reciting facts might make them hurt less. "We got hit during a supply convoy. IED, then small arms fire. There were multiple casualties.”
She could still smell it, the foul mixture of dust and blood and burning rubber.
"There were four critical patients," Jade continued. "And two of us, me and another medic, Santiago. We had to split up, triage fast, and get everyone stable enough for the medevac."
Maddox's hand found hers on the couch between them. Jade gripped it like an anchor.
"Marcus was the youngest. Private First Class, on his first deployment, barely out of Basic. He took shrapnel to the abdomen and chest and had massive internal bleeding." Her voice stayed steady through sheer force of will. "I got to him first and started applying pressure and tried to assess the damage. He was conscious and scared. Kept asking if he was going to die."
The terrified look in his eyes. She'd never forget that look.
"I told him no," Jade said quietly. "I told him he'd be fine and that I had him, all the things you're supposed to say. But I could see—" Her voice caught. She swallowed hard, pushing down her shame. "I could see how bad it was. There was just too much internal bleeding. Even with a trauma surgeon right there, his chances were..."
