Major

“Major Steele, they need you in the conference room.” Jamison has been on my ass since I hit the door. I should have come in last night. Shit’s a mess now, in more ways than one.

“I’ll be right there,” I say and slap a folder shut on my desk. I don’t want to deal with earthquake disaster relief right now. I need to deal with Violet disaster relief. I have to find out what spooked her so badly this morning. There’s no way that after last night she just up and decided she needed to check on her apartment. She was exhausted, sated, happy—what the hell made her do such an about face?

They are probably already on their way home now, and as worn out as Violet was, she’s probably sleeping in the car. I want to call or text her, but thoughts of Katie have been rambling around in my head for hours. The memory of her sad eyes and tortured soul are all the reminder I need that Violet is better off without me. Whatever the reasons for her abrupt withdrawal, I should let her go. I’d end up ruining her life the same way I did Katie’s.

After a long afternoon of meetings and briefs, I stop by the hospital to check on Violet’s friends. Staff Sergeant Matthew Cane suffered a severely broken leg, but he is listed in stable condition. His fiancé, Belle, has a serious head injury, and she’s in the ICU in critical condition. That’s all I am able to find out from their families. Both sets of parents thank me repeatedly for saving their children’s lives, and I wish them good luck.

It’s Edith’s day to clean, and it’s laundry day. I texted her earlier and told her not to change the sheets on my bed. I would have stripped the bed and started the wash before leaving this morning, but we were rushed, and now I’m glad. I want to lay on the sex permeated sheets and inhale Violet’s lavender and vanilla scent one last time before I throw the sheets in the wash and cleanse my memory of the magnificent woman who reminded me how to feel again.

At home in my garage, the door closes behind me with a strange sense of finality. I sit in the dark and slide my phone from my pocket. I squint when the glow of the screen lights up the inside of the car. I scroll to Violet’s phone number and pull it up. My thumb hovers over the green dial button. Fuck, I want to call her. It’s only been a few hours, and I’m craving her touch, her sweet laugh and carefree smile. She made me feel human again. I’ve become a slave to my self-imposed rigid life, my lists and my excessive attention to detail. I haven’t made a list for over forty-eight hours, and I’ve been more flexible with my schedule than I have been in years. The crazy thing is that it was effortless. I didn’t have the urge to stay on schedule. No one has ever dominated my every thought the way Violet does, not even Katie.

I slip my phone into the breast pocket of my dress shirt and go inside the house. I won’t call her. She deserves better than me. On my way through the kitchen, I remove the salt and pepper containers from the counter and place them in the pantry where they belong. I take out a piece of paper and make an organized list of the things I have left to do today and what time I’ll be doing them. Then I write a list of things I need from the grocery store. I take the clipboard off the hook inside the pantry and check the items on the expiration list. I open the cupboards to check if Edith has thrown out expired items. When I’ve opened every cupboard and the refrigerator, I move on to the living room. I’m feeling especially anxious in here, what with having had a stranger sleep on my couch last night, but there isn’t anything out of order per say. I head upstairs to change to go for a run at exactly 1830. I should have run inside on the treadmill. I thought the fresh air would do me good, but the damage from the earthquake is everywhere. The cracks in the pavement start to make me crazy, so I give up after three miles and turn back home.

I spend the rest of the evening grocery shopping and cooking dinner. I thought I wanted to go to bed and think about my time with Violet, but now I’m finding excuses not to. I dust the already dustless furniture and clean the glass on the coffee table. I work in my office for a while and finally head upstairs.

I’m not three feet down the hall when it hits me. I have a superior sense of smell, and Violet’s scent permeates the air around me. In my room it’s stronger, and the smell of sex on my sheets is unbearable. I strip the sheets off the bed and remove the pillowcases. Her towel is still hanging in the bathroom. I snatch that off the rack as well and stomp down the hall to the laundry room. On my way back, I grab a bottle of Febreze and spray everything in my room down—the mattress, the pillows, the decorative pillows, my chair, everything. I remake my bed with perfect, tight military corners and lie down. When I shut off the light, I try like hell to block out my thoughts of her, but it’s impossible. I miss her. I can’t sleep.

I fucking miss her.

It’s for the best. She’s a good woman. She deserves more. She deserves a man without the heavy baggage that comes with me. I don’t want to hurt her. I repeat my reasons to stay away from Violet over and over a hundred times. My mind is convinced, but there’s not a ghost of a chance at persuading my heart. I’m fighting a losing battle when it comes to atoning for my sins, and I won’t allow Violet to be another casualty in my war.