So I lay in the dark and I held my position and I let the rage cool into something colder and far more useful than rage, and it was the longest night of my life, longer than any I spent overseas, because overseas the enemy had never been asleep in the next room wearing my leather jacket.

Chapter 4 — The Question I Hated

In the morning I asked the question I hated even as it left my mouth.

“Ingrid — is there someone else?”

Her face collapsed, and she said nothing, and the nothing was worse than any answer.

I had come home suspicious, the way deployed men learn to be, filling the silence of distance with the worst stories.