He could have told her about the nights he still woke at the smallest sound. He could have explained why crowded rooms made him study the exits, why sudden movements sometimes tightened every muscle in his body, and why he occasionally sat awake until dawn without knowing what he was waiting for.
He could have reminded her that he had spent years trying to become a man who could live peacefully after seeing things no one should have to see.
Instead, he went upstairs.
He packed six shirts, three pairs of jeans, his toiletries, and his laptop.
From the back of a drawer, he retrieved an old photograph of his parents. Claire had once called it depressing because his father looked so serious in it.
Cole placed it carefully inside his bag.
He left his wedding ring on the dresser.
When he came downstairs, Claire stood at the bottom of the stairs.
