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Maddie sat in the corner, arms wrapped tightly around her folded knees. She had curled herself into the smallest ball possible—a fragile cocoon of false security.
She was safe. Of course, she was safe. The break room of the call center, tucked away in its farthest corner, was the last place anyone could hurt her. No one could touch her here. But that didn’t stop the memories from clawing their way up her throat.
Her fingers brushed over the faint scars on her neck, the phantom sensation of the knife against her skin, the warm rush of blood down her hands.
Her breath hitched, chest tightening. She knew this feeling. She’d been coached through it before. A biological response. Fear. Trauma.
Breathe.
But her body refused to obey when it was caught in the grip of something so much bigger than her. Maddie hugged herself tighter.
The break room lights cast long shadows across the floor. She swore she saw shapes linger in the doorway—figures who hesitated, then disappeared again. Maybe Josh. Or Sue. She wouldn’t be surprised if one of them stood guard just outside the room.
The thought both comforted and suffocated her. She didn’t want them to worry. Yet, knowing they cared made the heavy weight on her chest a little easier to bear.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. She and her therapist had crafted a plan, a road map for today. She had walked in believing she was prepared. But all of it had crumbled the second someone asked for her help. The very thing that gave her life purpose, the thing she loved most—being a lifeline—had been twisted into a weapon that turned back on her.
She wiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks.
The door creaked open. Maddie stiffened, her back pressing harder into the corner. “I’m okay,” she said.
Liar.
The door didn’t close again. Instead, soft, deliberate footsteps moved toward her, growing louder in the quiet. Her pulse quickened, her fingers gripping her arms tighter. “Seriously, Josh, I’m fine. Just—”
The words caught in her throat as she looked up. “Eddie?” she whispered.
“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he glanced at the refrigerator in the corner. “I, uh... I stored lunch in there.”
“Lunch?” Maddie echoed.
“I was visiting Linda. Brought her favorite Thai food. But she was busy, so I stuck it in here and, um...” He rubbed the back of his neck.
Maddie blinked, the mention of Linda pulling at a distant memory. She’d almost forgotten Eddie had worked at the call center once, back when life had been different. He’d made friends here, and built connections.
It struck her how little she knew Eddie, despite how much of a fixture he was in her family’s orbit. She knew him through Buck, through the 118, through stories and anecdotes that painted him as steady, dependable. A little broken like the rest of them.
Eddie did this, Eddie did that. Eddie standing in the corner of her house, Eddie at her wedding—a constant presence, like the moon in the sky. Always there, always taken for granted.
“I’m sorry,” Maddie murmured, her voice cracking slightly. “I was just... having a moment.”
Eddie’s gaze softened, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Had plenty of those before.”
“I bet.” She managed a weak laugh, though it felt hollow. Eddie’s life hadn’t been kind to him either—she knew that much. Eddie lore was practically a genre in her family.
Instead of heading for his lunch, Eddie walked to the cupboard, pulled out a glass, and filled it with water. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, as if he were giving her space to breathe.
He handed her the glass.
“Thanks.”
“I know that corner well,” Eddie said. “Perfect for keeping an eye on the door but hidden enough to feel like you’ve got this small invisible space.”
“The table and chairs help,” Maddie replied.
“They do,” Eddie agreed, his smile faint. “But I preferred the floor. Mind if I join?”
“Um, sure.”
He settled at a respectful distance, close enough to feel his presence but far enough to give her room. The quiet connection of simply being near another person felt strange, but not unwelcome. She sipped her water. “So, you’re visiting?”
“No, I’m moving back,” Eddie said simply.
“Oh, that’s... great.” Maddie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. That was news to her. Buck had been buzzing about Eddie and Christopher’s visit to L.A., their itinerary practically etched into her brain from how often Buck had shared it.
But moving back? That was new.
“I’m glad,” she said, though the words felt tentative. She considered asking where Eddie might be living but decided against it. That felt like a can of worms she wasn’t ready to open. Besides, Buck would undoubtedly fill her in on every detail, probably including how sharing a bed with Eddie was somehow perfectly normal for two best friends.
Slowly, Maddie stretched out her legs, the tension in her body easing. The walls didn’t feel like they were closing in anymore, and the scars on her throat no longer burned.
As her adrenaline faded, reality settled into her bones—a quiet, steady presence, much like Eddie himself.
Maddie couldn’t ignore the irony—she was hiding in the break room right beside her brother’s best friend. Or whatever Eddie was to Buck. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks as she shifted uncomfortably.
She groaned, breaking the silence. “I think I’m too old to be sitting on the floor.”
“Sometimes the floor just works,” Eddie replied, his voice steady and unassuming.
“So, how often did you find yourself seeking refuge in the break room when you worked here?” Maddie asked, her curiosity piqued despite her awkwardness.
“More than I’d like to admit,” Eddie said, a faint snort escaping as he shook his head.
“That’s a pretty honest answer.”
Eddie’s lips twitched in a small, self-deprecating smile. “Maybe therapy actually works.”
Maddie let out a dry, pessimistic laugh. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Eddie’s tone remained gentle, yet firm. “Therapy isn’t a cure-all. It’s a lot of talking about things in the moment. But when your chest feels like a vice and your brain is screaming at you to find the darkest, deepest hole to crawl into, you tend to follow your instincts.”
The blunt honesty caught Maddie off guard. She fought against the urge to pull her knees back up, grounding herself with a deep breath. “I got a call earlier. The man on the other end sounded so desperate, and all I wanted to do was walk him through the crisis.”
Eddie didn’t interrupt or offer platitudes. He just sat there, listening with a quiet patience that felt like a lifeline in itself.
“But then... my heart started racing, my palms were sweating, and all I could think of was waking up in the dark, my ankle chained to a pole...” Her voice faltered, her breath hitching. “All I felt was panic. And fear. And I thought, ‘No. Not this again.’”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she wiped them away angrily. “I’m stronger than this.”
“You are strong,” Eddie said, his words carrying a weight that settled deep in Maddie’s chest.
“That’s not how I felt,” she admitted, her voice trembling.
“We’re not computers,” Eddie said softly, his brown eyes steady and kind. “We can’t just command ourselves not to feel. When I treat a kid that reminds me of my son, I tell myself he’s not Christopher. But I can’t stop how fast my heart beats. All I can do is focus on what I can control. When you’re on the other end of the phone, you have very little control. All you have is your voice and your instincts. When I’m in the field, at least I can use my hands.”
Maddie smiled faintly, his words resonating. How often had she felt disconnected from the people she helped, forced to rely solely on her voice?
“I miss being able to help others,” she said quietly. “To press the bandage in place or hold someone’s hand.”
“You’re a voice in the darkness,” Eddie said. “You offer comfort and reassurance. You give life-saving instructions when we’re still miles away. You’re the anchor.”
Maddie swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “She took that away from me.”
She couldn’t bring herself to say her name—wouldn’t give her that power. “Every time I hear the desperation in someone’s voice, I...” Maddie hesitated, her throat tightening. “I wonder if…”
“If you’re used to harm and not heal?” Eddie’s question cut through her haze.
Maddie looked up at him, her brow furrowing as the weight of his words sank in.
“I was an Army medic,” Eddie said quietly, his voice heavy with a history she could only imagine. “My job was to keep my patients stable until we could transport them to field hospitals. The Army spent as much time training me to keep people alive as it did teaching me to kill.”
His gaze dropped to the floor. “I would do anything to protect my patients. My job was to keep them safe. If that meant…” He swallowed hard, looking away. “I did what I had to. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t haunt me when I least expect it.”
Maddie felt an overpowering need to reach out to hold his hand, but something held her back. It didn’t feel right—not now. But the urge itself brought her relief.
Compassion was still her first instinct. It hadn’t been taken away.
Tears welled in Maddie’s eyes, but this time, they carried gratitude instead of pain. “Buck missed you. Like, a lot. I’m glad you’re home.”
Eddie’s expression shifted, his eyes lighting up with something warm and unguarded. “This is my home,” he said with quiet certainty. “It took me leaving to figure that out. Not that I wanted to go…”
“But you needed your son,” Maddie finished for him, her tone gentle, understanding.
“I did,” Eddie admitted, his gaze dropping briefly. “But I also needed to be truly alone—to really figure out what I wanted in life.”
Maddie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Eddie’s honesty was palpable, and there was something raw in his words that resonated deeply. She hesitated before adding, “We should grab lunch sometime. Catch up.”
Eddie’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “You mean talk.”
“That, too,” Maddie said, a faint laugh slipping out despite herself.
“Want a hand up?” Eddie asked.
For a moment, Maddie considered declining, pride prickling at the edges of her resolve. But then she sighed softly, letting herself lean into the support offered. “Please.”
Eddie stood with practiced ease, offering his hand and pulling her gently to her feet. She handed him her empty glass. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Eddie replied.
Maddie exhaled slowly as she stood upright, the tightness in her chest easing. For the first time all day, the space around her didn’t feel suffocating.
And as she glanced at Eddie, standing beside her with that quiet strength of his, she realized something else: she wasn’t as alone as she had felt.
She had her husband, her brother, her daughter. Friends who loved her unconditionally. People with deep history—like Eddie—who were steadfast in their way, always present even when she hadn’t realized how much she needed them.
Quietly in the distance.
Fini