TYSON CAINE
Aleya Michelle
Copyright© 2016 Aleya Michelle
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Cover - Berto Designs.
Formatting – Angel’s Indie Formatting.
Editing – Gypsy Heart Editing.
Proofread – Editing 4 Indies
Cover image Copyright 2016
This book is for all you dreamers out there, always believe in yourself and never give up. If you want something bad enough, you can achieve it.
First and foremost to all of my amazing readers who took a chance at a brand new Indie Author back in May 2014.
Thank you for taking this journey with me and sticking by me as I grow and learn as a writer.
Thank you for believing in me enough to read my books, this one is for you, sending love and gratitude.
A huge thank you to my Fantastic editor, Jennifer Tovar from Gypsy Heart Editing, for getting me through Tyson Caine, especially for your Americanisms.
Your guidance and support is always professional and you are one clever lady.
You always go above and beyond your job description—love you for that.
To Jenny Sims from Editing 4 Indies, as always you were fantastic and super-efficient with your proofreading. Thank you for your help and speedy work.
To my amazing formatter and friend Angel Steel, you are always so patient, helpful and I would have been up shit creek without you. Thank you.
To Rebecca Berto from Berto Designs for yet another awesome cover! My favourite so far! Your magical flare for colours and design is inspiring. Tyson Caine is hot!
To my gorgeous beta readers Cheryl, Maci, Elaine, Danielle and Amy xx
I love and appreciate you ladies so much, your honesty, advice and feedback is what makes my characters come to life and my stories become so much stronger.
Thank you to my sensational street team Aleya’s Alluring Angels.
You ladies go above and beyond, your support and friendship is amazing X.
Join Today https://www.facebook.com/groups/712925062086945/
I need to single out and give a massive shout out to Amy Adrian Kehl for being the best pimper ever, I can’t wait to meet you, hopefully in Chicago next year!
To my wonderful P.A. Nathalie Raven, thank you for always being there to help me, pimp me out, support me, and do your best. I’d be lost without you.
To all of the bloggers who have supported me and helped a little indie author spread the word about my books, I appreciate you all.
Special mention to Angela Travers and Kristine Englefield, for the past two years you two inspirational ladies have been so supportive, invaluable, and significant as friends and fellow authors.
To my bff Ange who I would be lost without, your daily messages and confidence boosts always get me through hard times. Tash, Liz, and Kylie, my ‘Petals’ for keeping me sane and making me laugh!. To my awesome friend and assistant Cheryl for beta reading and being my number one fan and pimper, xx. Love you.
To the most important men in my life, my hubby and three boys, I have been one grumpy, tired mumma lately so a huge thank you for being understanding, supportive and loving me unconditionally as I love you.
A special mention to my nana and Aunty, I appreciate you both so much, thank you for supporting me and believing in me, this one is for you xx
The rest of my amazing family and friends I love you and always will xx
Last but never least, to my beautiful mother in heaven…
I miss you more than words can describe, I miss your voice and advice and most of all your love. Thank you to you and dad for bringing me into this world without you I wouldn’t be half the determined woman that I am today.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Being the oldest in a family of three boys isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I’m Tyson, the oldest Caine brother; next is Tyler, then Thomas.
This is my life summed up by a Winston Churchill quote: ‘Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.’ In a nutshell, I’m trying to figure out my purpose in life. I’m driven and determined to make something of myself. I may only be seventeen, but I have the whole world at my feet.
I guess you could say I’m unrelenting to find those moments that define greatness. Sure, it’s a little deep for a senior in high school, but in my eyes, if you don’t shoot for the stars: your goals are too low in life.
****
We call Cedar Lake home. It’s an average town in Indiana, also known as the Hoosier state. Our exceptionally small, red brick home has aged gracefully. Mom keeps the gardens looking neat and tidy, with a gorgeous array of colors. The veranda is my favorite part of the house. It wraps around to the back, where there is a large yard—a must for a family with three rowdy boys. Especially three rowdy boys who play football.
Dad works extremely hard as a boilermaker in the mines. He is gone two weeks, then home for one. It’s fantastic money, but Mom struggles each day to keep us three in line without him. Mind you, she never whines to him about it—and she works just as gruelling shifts at the hospital.
Working as a nurse, her shifts are never the same. She’s either working all day or all night. I admire the sacrifices she makes for us.
I have had to grow up pretty damn quickly. Getting the other two knuckleheads organized with breakfast, getting dressed, brushing their teeth, and getting their asses out of bed in the mornings is a mission in and of itself. I may only be seventeen, but I act like I’m older. I hear it a lot from teachers, Coach, and my friend’s parents.
Tyler is sixteen, has the dreaded middle child syndrome, and thinks the world revolves around him. He is very tall for his age, has sandy blond hair that he styles into a Mohawk, has the trademark aqua blue eyes that everyone wants, a hard chiselled jaw, and overall, a very masculine appearance and physique.
Tyler is a constant handful, stubborn as an ox, and can never see sense. I have learned to pick my battles with him. Dad and Tyler clash like the titans and it never ends well.
&n
bsp; Thomas is fourteen. That’s not a great time for a teenage boy what with zits, hormones, facial hair, and pubes growing in numerous places. His hair is dark brown and wavy, reaching his ears. He has light brown eyes with flickers of yellow when the sun shines on them just right. There isn’t an ounce of fat on his body. Tyler has started him on hand weights, so his muscles are growing. His nickname is Efron since the girls say he looks like Zac Efron.
Dad comes home on Friday after spending two weeks away. I notice Mom has made more of an effort cleaning the house and our rooms. The dirty socks piled up in the laundry have been washed, and the magazines on the coffee table have been packed away. Our carpet is almost as old as the house and is in desperate need of replacing, but Mom has covered up the worst parts with a few nice modern rugs. The main living area is tiled, which saves the wear and tear on the carpet but also attracts excess grass and dirt.
I share my bedroom with Thomas. Ours is the first door in the hallway, and Tyler’s room is second, followed by Mom and Dad’s at the end of the hall. Each room has been dusted thoroughly, vacuumed, and the tiles mopped. Tyler’s room has never looked so good. Mine looks good too; though, I normally keep mine pretty pristine.
For once, Mom has the weekend off, so we are heading to the local carnival as a family. “Argh, man, that’s so uncool. Why do I have to hang out with these two?” Tyler asks when Mom tells him our plans.
“This will be the first time in over six months we will all be together. Do it for me. Please, Tyler?” she pleads with him, and I see his face soften. None of us can say no to our beautiful mother with her angelic face and soft curling hair.
“Only for you, Mom,” he replies and kisses her cheek sweetly.
I often reminisce back to just a few years ago when we were a close-knit family. Dad was happier in his previous job. He worked from nine to five, and then he would come home and toss the football around with us. We’d cook barbecues outside, and we would build go-carts together. He and Mom were so in love. They would play their favorite music and slow dance and embrace each other affectionately.
But it all changed when he lost his job. I blame the booze. It knocked him around and made him aggressive. He’s a different man because of the drinking, but in his defence, he is still our father. We are bonded by blood, so I will stick by him. And although I wouldn’t admit it to Tyler and Thomas’s faces, those two are pretty cool too.
****
We have been back in school for three weeks, and today is football tryouts. I’m up early, forcing the other two to hurry the hell up. One positive with Dad in the mines is that Mom can drop him at the train station so she can have his car, rather than me having to drop her off at work twenty minutes out of the way.
“Guys, get your asses out to the truck, like yesterday!” I shout at Tyler and Thomas for the tenth time this morning. I had their bags packed so all they had to do was get dressed, eat their breakfast, and brush their goddamn teeth. It still takes them way too long, though. They have no strategy and move super slow.
I am the complete polar opposite of my two brothers. I am extremely organized, even a little OCD at times. I’ll admit I have to be in order to make things run smoothly with those two. I have a few written schedules and timetables in my trusty brown leather folder to keep everyone on track. I am always copping flack about it. “Tyson and his regimented folder,” they call it. Do you know how few brain cells my friggin brothers have, especially Tyler?
“Chill out, Tyson. It’s just school, dude. Who cares?” Tyler answers with his usual couldn’t give a shit attitude. It’s the very attitude that causes our family hell.
“Tryouts, bro,” I reply, giving him back his attitude and reminding him what today is. I’m sure it will get him moving.
“Oh shit, I gotta grab my cleats,” he says and bolts back into the house. Of course, now he moves fast.
“Damn it, Tyler. Hurry up!” I yell, getting pissed as Thomas and I climb into my pickup.
Coach doesn’t put up with tardiness. He is a hard man—very experienced and talented but hard as nails. Kind of reminds me of Dad.
Slamming the large wooden door, Tyler sprints outside with his cleats. “I can’t forget my magic cleats,” he states chuckling at his own comment.
I roll my eyes and rev the engine as a warning to jump in and buckle up. He gallops to the truck and slides in with ease, so I slam on the gas, and we head to school.
“Let’s go show the junior varsity just how the real men play ball,” Tyler says with his cocky attitude. I laugh out loud because I know that is exactly what my big shot little brother Tyler will be doing. He is known for his skills as a quarterback and his overly confident attitude.
We pull into the parking lot to find only two spots left. All the computer nerds and chess club geeks get in early, driving their daddy’s Chryslers. I’m definitely not critical or judgmental of others. I don’t believe in name-calling or labelling; it’s just a fact.
Our dad, Jimmy Caine, is a man’s man. He was brought up that way and so were we. He drives a Dodge Charger—it has a roar to the engine, but it’s not too beastly, just masculine and fierce. My pickup truck is much the same, although a much cheaper version.
Tyler’s girlfriend, Chelsea, and her entourage spot us and make their way over. She has fake blond hair, long legs that go on for days, and wears tiny skirts that don’t leave much to the imagination. Her face is always caked with makeup, her blush is bright pink, and the blue eye shadow is intense. I’m not really sure if she is pretty or not; there’s too much makeup on her face, especially for school. Honestly, I prefer the natural look; it’s more beautiful in my eyes. But Tyler is crazy about her. They’ve been together for four months now. That’s a new record for the football quarterback.
“Thomas, remember you have to tutor after school, so I’ll be waiting at four thirty,” I remind the squirt.
“Damn it, Tyson. Why do you have to be so organized? Let me skip this one—six hours at school is long enough,” he whines in his usual annoying tone.
“No way. If you want to get a good job and make something of yourself, you need to have a good education,” I tell him sounding exactly like my father. It doesn’t scare me, though. He is my idol. I look up to him and respect the hell out of him. I really want to make him proud of me. Don’t most seventeen-year-olds idolize their fathers?
Respect is something that he earned from me. A person who works as hard as my father does deserves all of the goddamn respect in the world. He was fostered at a young age. The stories he tells about those hellholes are enough to make you have nightmares for a month, but he got through it all.
Well sure, his temper is a force to be reckoned with, and he loses his shit like a bat outta hell, especially with Tyler. But Tyler can be lazy, smart-mouthed, and strong headed, and they clash something fierce. Mom has shed many a tear over their fights, but neither Tyler nor Dad will back down. I know he is grateful that I give him the respect and look up to him the way he deserves.
Thomas idolizes both Dad and Tyler. I have taken him under my wing since Tyler is trying to take him to the dark side. I’m teaching him to be his own man, independent, and not to take shit from anyone, including Dad.
Tyler is like the devil on his shoulder.
****
To me, football is a release. I don’t want to be the best player out there on the field like Tyler, and I don’t want to score the most touchdowns. I just love to run, to feel the wind on my face, to be part of a team. “There is no ‘I’ in team boys.” Coach constantly drums that into our heads.
I’m a firm believer in being part of a team. We all work together, we each have our strengths and weaknesses, and we carry each other. The only exception to the rule is fucking Tyler … When he gets the ball it’s like a switch flicks. He hogs all the glory, and he needs the praise and recognition. He craves it like an addiction.
I, on the other hand, am happy to drift into the background and help the team where I can, not just b
e the star player. I am good at syncing the plays—the mathematical equations of the quarterback and positions. Coach often asks for my advice, so I try to come up with a new play each week just for us to try. Last month, we scored two touchdowns from just one of my plays. Of course, it helps that we have the most talented quarterback in Indiana, even if he is my showboat brother. It helps, but he is not the center of the universe.
Don’t get me wrong—I am not jealous of Tyler. I don’t envy him. I can’t say it’s a trait that I have.
He loves the limelight and attention, so he’s perfect for the role of quarterback. Whereas I like to help set up plays and be known as the brains behind the play rather than the physical reason that they scored.
Tyler tells me constantly I’m jealous and want his prime position. I don’t understand why he thinks that; maybe his self-esteem isn’t as rock-hard as it seems.
“Listen up, meatheads; we are going to play a twenty-minute game. I want to see you all in action, then we will be doing drills,” Coach blares in his usual angry voice.
“Like last year, I have ten of you already picked for the team, but if you slack off, I can and will cut you from my roster. You got that?” he announces, showing the newbies who is in charge.
“Yes, Coach,” we chime in unison.
God, I would love for Tyler to get cut from the team. I love my bro, don’t get me wrong, but I just think he needs to be taken done a notch or five sometimes.
Back to the discipline thing. Tyler just doesn’t get it—he thinks he can do what he wants.
Wrong.
You do what you are told, or there are consequences. Well sure, Tyler is a big boy, and he is strong and fast, but he still isn’t a match for Dad. Jimmy was a runner and a boxer back in the day, and he still keeps himself in prime condition. He has taught me a lot of jabs and boxing techniques.
Last month when Tyler was smart mouthing and went too far by slamming the door and kicking over the garbage bin, Dad grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him into the garage where I heard him punishing him with his belt.
TYSON CAINE: Book 1 in the Brothers in Arms Series (Brothers in Arms Book 1) Page 1
