I kicked at the gravel next to the front tire of my brother’s beat-up white Bronco, the hot summer sun making the black suit I’d been forced to wear that much more uncomfortable. I tugged at the knot of the tie, ripped off the jacket, and yelled at the top of my lungs. No one was around to witness my tantrum, but I wouldn’t have given a fuck if anyone had seen it. Everyone and anyone could go fuck themselves for all I cared at that point.

Standing in the middle of the driveway, I knew the actions that had to be taken, but I had no idea how to even put one foot in front of the other. “Fuck, man,” I cussed under my breath. “Why’d you have to die?”

I wasn’t mad at Cameron for leaving, joining the Marines, or even for getting blown up; I was fucking pissed that he’d been taken from us. I was angry that my mother was ripped apart, that my father could barely look me in the eye, that everyone felt sorry for me and my family. I was irritated that I was dealing with all of the bullshit and then missing my big brother at the same time. At nineteen, you’re just not ready to have to bury your older brother; I guess no one is ever really ready for that shit though.

When I hopped into the dusty driver’s seat, the old springs complained under me. I took in a deep breath of the musty smell as I let my imagination get the better of me. I conjured up our conversation as I drove down the dirt road from my house to the funeral home.

“Easy on the gas with ’em sharp turns, Ry. Her suspension doesn’t like ’em.” My brother would have teased me as I hugged the shoulder turning right past the Lewis plantation.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. You should have done the airbag lift like I said, not a body lift. You stubborn asshole,” I mumbled under my breath. I knew it was crazy, but talking out loud to him made me feel better, made him feel less gone. “You know I’m going to have to finish what you started.”

“Ryan, you know it would break mom’s heart if she got two folded flags. One is enough for a lifetime. Just let sleeping dogs lie.” He would have put his hand on my shoulder and pleaded with me. He would have called me an idiot, yelled in my face. I knew that even though he’d wanted nothing more than to defend our country, he had wanted me as far away from war as possible; he made sure to tell me so over and over while I was growing up. Every male member of our family had served in one or multiple branches of the military, but Cameron was steadfast in making me go to college and break the mold.

“You’re destined to be something so much more. Become a doctor. Become a teacher. Fuck, open a restaurant or write a damn book. Travel the world.” I could hear him rattling off as many different professions as he could think of while trying his damnedest to convince me that signing my life away on that dotted line did not have to be my destiny.

“I can’t fucking do that, brother. I’m sorry.” I cursed the tears that welled up in my eyes.

“Better get those out now,” I could hear Cameron reminding me. “Axston men don’t cry. Dad would have your ass if he saw you right now.”

That bitter old man wasn’t going to be winning any father of the year awards any time soon, but I still had an overwhelming need to please him and make him proud. Crying wasn’t a thing that men did, not in our family. I was going to have to sit in that damn truck with Cam’s dog tags swinging from the rearview mirror until I could get a damn grip.

Parked in the back of the full lot, I watched as numerous people dressed in black and many in military uniforms filed into the small funeral home. One by one, they bowed their heads as my crying mother and my stoic father shook their hands.

I watched as my mother sobbed into a tissue in her hand as everyone’s lips read, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Followed by hers expressing appreciation for them attending.

I was a four-star general’s son. I was the brother of a casualty of war. What was I? Nothing. Yet.

I took a few deep breaths in, counted to ten over and over, trying to calm my shaking nerves. Fuck this. Turned the key and let the throaty engine roar to life. I wasn’t going to go in to pay my final respects to Cameron without having something to tell him. I needed to have something to show for myself before I could feel right actually saying goodbye.

* * *

Walking into the recruiter’s office felt all too right, the bell chiming over my head as I stepped inside.

“Can I help you, son?” A middle-aged, clean-shaven man in a Marine Corps uniform started to clamber to his feet from behind his desk.

“Where do I sign?”