Healing meant leaving the hallway light on because she was afraid of the dark. It meant speaking before I entered a room so I wouldn’t startle her. It meant hearing her ask, every time I put my boots on, whether I was leaving on another deployment.

Keeping the house secure meant nothing if I wasn’t in it.

That Monday morning I walked into my commanding general’s office and requested sixty days of emergency leave. Then a permanent reassignment to a local administrative post.

Then I submitted the paperwork to step off the active command track for good.

The general looked at the forms on his desk and shook his head. “Twenty years of exceptional service, Samson. You’re walking away from a distinguished path.”

I thought about the photo on my nightstand — Chloe grinning with her front teeth missing, wearing my cap.