Commando (Rogue Rebels MC 1)

He never did.

As the funeral ended, the guests began to file out of the cemetery. Wyatt and I watched while they all got into their cars and drove away. There was going to be a wake at Wyatt’s house, but he wasn’t in any hurry to get there. Mrs. Murphy left with her sister, leaving Wyatt and I alone at the gravesite.

I held Wyatt’s hand tightly. He stared at his father’s casket without speaking. I glanced over at him and was surprised to see he had finally succumbed to tears.

He was crying silently while the cemetery personnel lowered his father into the ground. They told us we didn’t have to stay for that part, but Wyatt didn’t move so I didn’t either.

I wrapped my arms around Wyatt’s waist and rested my head against his arm.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked softly.

“No,” Wyatt said. He wiped away the tears impatiently and turned to face me. “But, there is something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” I said with a frown. I couldn’t imagine what was so important that he needed to tell me then, right after his father’s funeral.

“After graduation, I’m leaving for basic training,” Wyatt said.

His voice was even, devoid of any emotion.

“What?” I blinked, doing a good imitation of an owl.

I had heard him wrong. There was no way…

“I enlisted in the Army,” he explained. “With my undergrad degree, I can be a medic. Not a doctor, but a medic.”

“What about medical school?” I asked blankly.

With tempest of thoughts whirling around my head, it was the first one I could grasp clearly.

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was leaving. His father just died. We were set to graduate in December and he was leaving. Joining the Army. Going off to a war his father had just become a causality of.

“I’m not going,” he answered simply.

“But it’s your dream,” I said lamely.

“Dreams change,” he said. He looked away from me and watched while they poured dirt over his father’s casket. I followed his gaze, not wanting to look into his emotionless face any longer.

I didn’t know what this meant for him, or for us. Would we stay together? How long would he be gone? Why was he doing this?

Deep down, I knew why. His father died in combat. Wyatt thought enlisting was the best way to honor his memory. I understood it. I followed his thinking easily, but I didn’t agree with it.

From the time I met Wyatt, his dream had been to become a doctor. He never once mentioned joining the military. In fact, he used to complain about how often his father was away from home.

“He’s never around, but we’re supposed to be okay with it because he’s a war hero,” he would say scornfully.

I knew he didn’t mean it. He just missed his dad and wanted him around more, but it still knocked the wind of me to find out he was following in his father’s footsteps.

“When do you leave exactly?” I asked. There was a lump in my throat and I tried to swallow it down, but I couldn’t. I spent the past week trying to stay strong, but I felt the repressed tears finally threatening to escape.

When long minutes passed without him speaking, I grabbed his hand.

“Wyatt, please talk to me. This is a big decision. We should sit down and properly think this through. I don’t-”

Shaking off my hold, he looked back at me. I almost stepped back, the cold fury in his eyes hitting me like a whip.

“There is nothing to discuss. It is my decision,” he hissed between his teeth.

Anger leaked into my tone. “And what about us? What does your decision mean for us?”