Page 97 of Losing Control

Jade’s voice came from behind her. She was close, but not touching.

Maddox kept her eyes on the cutting board. “I’m okay.”

“I know.” Jade leaned against the counter beside her. “But you don’t have to be okay every second.”

The kitchen smelled like garlic and olive oil, pasta water just starting to boil. They'd been doing this—cooking together, rebuilding a new normal—for almost a week now, since Monday when Jade had shown up on her doorstep and refused to let her self-destruct. Since Maddox had saidI love you.

The first few days after their reconciliation hadn’t been easy. She’d broken trust; she’d known that. She’d said things intendedto hurt and pushed Jade away hard enough that the fractures still showed, even if they were invisible.

Jade had come back and fought for them. But it didn’t erase what Maddox had done.

“What do you need?” Jade asked.

The question nearly undid her. Notare you okayorwhat’s wrong, just focused on what she needed in the moment.

“I don’t know,” Maddox admitted.

“That’s okay too.”

Maddox finally looked at her. Jade wore one of Maddox’s old Marine shirts, her hair pulled back in a loose knot at the base of her head, expression open. She was comfortable, present.

“I keep thinking about what I said to you,” Maddox whispered.

“I know. We’re working through it.” Jade’s hand found hers. “You messed up, you apologized, and you’re doing the work to not do it again. I’m choosing to stay and rebuild trust. That’s what people do when they love each other.”

The pasta water boiled over, and the sharp, burnt scent of garlic filled the kitchen.

“How about we order takeout instead?” Jade suggested.

Maddox huffed something close to a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

They ordered spicy Thai food and ate it on the couch with Zeus wedged between them, his head on Maddox’s lap, one paw stretched out toward Jade. These were the small moments she cherished, ordinary yet precious. This was what they were rebuilding. Not grand gestures, just being together and trust that neither of them were going anywhere.

The next morning, Friday, she had therapy with Carla. After they settled in and Maddox explained the past week, Carla shifted in her seat. Maddox knew that movement meant something new was coming.

“I want to suggest we start EMDR our next session,” Carla said. “It’s Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy, and it’s designed specifically for trauma processing.”

“I’ve been processing trauma.” Maddox felt her wariness sharpen. “We talk about it.”

“Talking about trauma and reprocessing it aren’t always the same. EMDR uses something called bilateral stimulation to help your brain process traumatic memories differently. It reduces the emotional charge.”

“Eye movements help with trauma?”

“The research says yes, especially for PTSD and single-incident trauma like what military vets and first responders experience.” Carla paused. “I’m suggesting it for Titan’s death.”

The name hit her like it always did.

“You’re still carrying guilt at a level that’s not sustainable,” Carla continued bluntly. “You still believe you killed him.”

She was right, of course. Maddox couldn’t argue that.

“EMDR might help you reprocess that memory better. Not erase it—you’ll still remember and miss him—but the guilt might loosen. You might grieve him without blaming yourself.”

Impossible, she thought.But I desperately need it too.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we try something else.” Carla’s expression stayed steady. “But you’ve been carrying this with you for eight years. Maybe it’s time to try setting it down differently.”