TYSON CAINE: Book 1 in the Brothers in Arms Series (Brothers in Arms Book 1)

by Aleya Michelle

  “Not with you, not ever, so go back to whatever pit you climbed out of, asshole,” I declare and turn to walk away. Then the jerk grabs hold of my arm.

  “The lady told you to let go,” I hear Tyson shout as he grabs Sean’s arm and pushes it roughly off me.

  “I should have known this slut would be yours. Tyson Caine, still living in your brother’s shadow?” the asswipe says, and that does it.

  Tyson’s fist connects with Sean’s nose, hard and fast. Blood starts dripping instantly. A crowd has quickly gathered around them.

  Sean throws a punch in retaliation hitting Tyson straight on his jaw. I’m sure that will give him a shiner tomorrow. Tyson throws another punch, but Sean ducks and tackles him roughly to the ground. That must have hurt—the damn hard as stone tiles are not an ideal place to land.

  Tyson kicks trying to get Sean off him, and then pushes his shoulders causing him to fly backward into the wall. The crash is loud and ricochets through the house, followed by a sickening crack.

  “Fuck,” he screams and throws his arm up to his shoulder.

  Shit! This is bad. I risk a look in Sean’s direction, and he appears to be in serious pain, holding his shoulder. The angle it is poking up doesn’t look good at all.

  Why the hell did he have to show up at this party? He wasn’t invited.

  He is an asshole, though, so I guarantee he will put in a report and Coach will have Tyson’s balls. A stocky looking friend of Sean’s runs over and helps him up.

  “You will regret this, Caine,” Sean growls as they head out the front.

  “Are you okay, Ty?” I ask him putting my hand on his arm.

  “Yeah. Are you?” he asks, looking concerned for my wellbeing. “That guy is such a tool. I couldn’t just let him put his hands all over you,” he states trying to justify his actions.

  “You don’t need to explain. I’m grateful you stepped in. The jerk deserved it. I just feel bad because now Coach will find out. Do you think you will miss the first game?” I question him, feeling nervous and thinking of the worst-case scenario.

  “Here, I thought Tyler would be the one to cause shit, drink too much, or get into a fight,” Tyson replies shaking his head at the events that occurred.

  “Coach is not one to mess around with fighting and football. So it’s pretty safe to say I won’t be playing next week unless Coach gets a lobotomy,” Tyson declares frowning and looking bewildered.

  Shit, this is a nightmare.

  “Now, you boys don’t make plans for tomorrow. We are fixing the shed roof,” Dad declares at dinner. It’s one of the only times the five of us have all been home together.

  “That means you too, Tyler. Got it?” Dad asks and gives Tyler his best ‘don’t even try to squirm your way outta this’ look.

  “What time will we be done?” Tyler asks rudely.

  “We will be done when I say we are,” he replies matching Tyler’s obnoxious behavior.

  I notice Tyler roll his eyes. Those two are like oil and water. I don’t think I’ve ever come across two family members so different and hostile toward each other. It’s not until later that I realize they are exactly the same, and that is why they butt heads and never get along.

  “I’m so glad all my boys will be spending the day together. I’ll set out some meat for you to make hamburgers for lunch tomorrow,” Mom chimes in, sounding chirpy. She really amazes me how she can sound so cheery in these situations.

  “What time do you work tomorrow, Mom?” Thomas asks her as she pulls him in for a quick hug.

  “I start at eight in the morning, Tommy, so I’ll leave around seven thirty, but I’ll be back for dinner, sweet boy,” she replies kissing his forehead.

  Sometimes, I forget just how much a fourteen-year-old boy needs his mother.

  I didn’t realize Mom would be gone the whole day. Eight hours of father and son time …

  God help us. I give them one hour before the fighting starts.

  I decide to send Brooklyn a quick text message with an idea.

  Me:

  Are you free tomorrow?

  If you can spare an hour, Miss Waters, I need your help distracting Dad and Tyler from killing each other.

  Brooklyn:

  Sure thing, Mr. Caine.

  Any longer and I will have to charge an hourly rate. Lol.

  Me:

  You know I would pay. You are totally worth it.

  Brooklyn:

  Awwwww 

  Another example of how amazing she is.

  I jolt awake when my alarm starts blaring. I set it last night for seven am, not wanting to sleep in and start Dad off in a shitty mood before we even begin. I stretch my arms and yawn widely, still feeling tired from staying up and watching Jimmy Fallon last night. God, that man is a funny bastard. Compared to my usual wakeup time of six-thirty on a school morning, I actually slept in today.

  “Tom.” I call out to my snoring sibling trying to wake him slowly. He is the devil in disguise when he is tired. Even as a baby, he needed a lot of sleep.

  “Wake up! It’s seven already. We’re helping Dad today, and Tyler is going to be a pain in the ass, so let’s start off on the right foot,” I announce as I see Thomas’s eyes sneak a peek from under his skateboard printed comforter.

  “Give me a couple more minutes,” he pleads. I roll my eyes and nod, and then make my way to the bathroom to take a shower. A few more minutes won’t hurt.

  ****

  My shower is quick yet satisfying. I enjoy the warm stream of water against my face, each drop helping to wake me up and get me ready for the day from hell. I try to remain positive, but all the signs point to it ending horribly.

  “Okay, sleeping beauty, up and at ‘em,” I announce and jump on Tommy for shits and giggles when I’m dressed and ready.

  “Okay, okay. Jeeze, I’m up,” he declares as he pushes me off and sits up on the edge of his bed, one eye still half closed.

  As he heads for a quick shower, I look out the window into the yard. Dad is already on the shed roof. God, that man is stubborn and determined, too temperamental to wake us up. I knew I should have woken up at six. Sometimes, I wonder if Dad plays mind games, like he demands we help him and then he tests us to see if we live up to his high standards.

  Feeling like I need to rush, I run into the hallway to attempt to wake Tyler. Much to my surprise, he is sitting bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the breakfast bench eating cereal, already fully dressed.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. You’re finally ahead of the game,” I say. I’m shocked he is up and dressed and happy that I can avoid having the battle of getting him out of bed.

  “I figured the earlier we are done, the more time I have to hang out later,” he replies giving me a wink as he finishes eating his Cap’n Crunch.

  “Wow, Tyler, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up this early before,” Thomas announces coming out of our room shirtless while towel drying his hair.

  “Ha-ha, very funny, squirt. I got shit to do later, so I want to get today over and done with,” Tyler replies in his usual cocky way.

  Doesn’t he realize that Dad won’t be letting him off any earlier, if at all for that matter? His idea of hanging out with friends is old-fashioned, and he thinks other kids are the bad influences and troublemakers.

  “Good luck with that,” I state and shrug my shoulders.

  ****

  I throw four pieces of bread into the toaster. While I impatiently wait for them to toast, I retrieve the butter and jelly from the fridge. Tommy and I eat them in record time. The delicious taste of the warm butter with jelly lingers in my mouth, so I wash it down with a black coffee—the stronger, the better. Six months ago, I wouldn’t touch the stuff, but between school, working at Monroe’s, and training, I need the extra caffeine.

  “Let’s go,” I declare to my brothers. We put our plates in the sink and make our way outside.

  “Morning, Dad,” Thomas calls out as he heads over to him. Dad is on the gra
ss hammering a few nails into a post.

  “Morning, Tom,” Dad replies as he rubs Tommy’s head, which is his way of being affectionate.

  “Morning, Tyson. I can’t believe you’re up, Tyler,” he says snarkily.

  “Actually, I was the first one up, even before these two knuckleheads,” he responds. I can’t decide if he is trying to brag or if he’s trying to make us look bad.

  “Okay, enough girl talk,” Dad says meaning business.

  “Tyson, I need you to help me carry this heavy post and hold it up while I join it to the roofing sheets,” he says pointing at the thick timber post.

  “Tyler, you and Thomas can collect the other pieces of timber from the truck,” Dad orders, and we all nod and attend to our designated jobs.

  I guess Dad does pick me to work with him quite a bit, but I’m sure it’s because I’m the oldest not the favorite, right?

  ****

  Three hours later, the sun is out in full force. I have sweat dripping down my forehead and can feel the sun burning my skin. It's already ninety degrees according to my smart watch, and at eleven thirty, that is saying something.

  All of the frames are up. Dad and I have fastened the remaining trusses and added steel frames for extra strength.

  “Your job at the hardware store has come in handy when it comes to getting building materials,” Dad states sounding positive.

  “Totally. The ten percent discount is a great savings,” I agree.

  After a few more nails are hammered into the roofing, Dad starts to climb down the ladder. I see him pause and take a few deep breaths and grab his chest.

  “You okay up there, old man?” I joke with him, and then I regret it as I’m not sure what mood he is in.

  “You know it, mister,” he replies and continues climbing down each step as I breathe out a sigh of relief. That is until he comes and smacks me across the head. Damn. “One more hour, then you boys can eat,” he announces to the three of us. I can’t see why the hell we can’t take a break now—he is a slave driver.

  “I think I might collapse before then. Can I fill up my water?” Tyler asks him, a reasonable request.

  “You know where the tap is,” he replies arrogantly.

  “The cold water in the fridge would be better,” Tyler responds, always needing the last word.

  “You weren’t brought up to be a spoiled brat, so why the hell do you act that way, Tyler?” Dad questions as he walks toward him.

  Great, just fucking great.

  “It’s just cold water, not like I’m asking for a beer or a soda,” he answers, and I wish he had a damn filter and could just once zip that troublemaking mouth of his.

  “Well, for that smartass remark, you can wait until two for your lunch, wise guy,” Dad declares, and I see Tyson’s face change. He’s pissed now.

  “No way. Are you kidding me? That is so unfair! All because I asked for cold water?”

  Looking frustrated yet again with Tyler, Dad walks inside the house, and I can see through the window that he is grabbing a beer. Tyler is sending him spiralling into alcoholism.

  “Tyler, that’s enough. Just finish your side of the shed, and I’ll fill up your water bottle,” I declare, pissed with him. Yet again, he is causing conflict.

  “Yes, sir,” he replies saluting me like a soldier.

  “You are just like him, you know that? Ordering me around like a peasant. I’m a fucking person, not a dog you can treat like shit,” Tyler replies rudely.

  “Wake up, Tyler. No one is treating you like a dog. You’ve just got to keep your mouth shut.”

  “Or what? You going to shut it for me?” he asks me trying to start a fight.

  I just stare at him dumbfounded at what he said to me. He is losing friends fast, and he wants to start a war with me? All I do is stick up for the ungrateful asshole.

  “Why are you being a jerk?”

  “It’s a family trait. You and Dad are the biggest jerks I know,” he responds, and that is it—I lose my temper for the first time in a long while, and I dive on him.

  By the look on Tyler’s face, it caught him by surprise. The first punch I throw also catches him unaware as it connects with his eye. Shit, I didn’t actually mean to punch him.

  Now, he is pissed. He pushes me off, and then it’s his turn to throw a punch, and it connects with my jaw. Fuck, that hurt. I push into his chest, punching him in the stomach, trying to get the two hundred pound giant off me.

  One second, he’s on top of me, and the next, Tyler’s gone.

  I look up to see Dad has dragged him off me by his neck.

  “I hit him first, Dad. I deserved that punch,” I say since it’s the truth. I’m not one to sit back and let others get in trouble from something that I did.

  The way Dad has Tyler by his neck is actually scaring me. Dad looks angry and unstoppable. It’s one thing to have a fight with my brother, but when Dad is involved, it’s something entirely different.

  Well, I’ll be damned. Saved by the bell once again.

  “Hey guys, I’ve come to get lunch sorted for you,” Brooklyn’s sweet voice chimes over the dry morbid air instantly calming it.

  Thank God for Brooklyn.

  She looks at me and appears puzzled by the drama. I smile at her as a thank-you for saving both of our asses.

  I look at Dad; he’s released Tyler and is chugging his beer.

  “Mr. Caine, I hope you don’t mind me being here?” she questions Dad ignoring the drama that was unfolding before she arrived.

  “You are welcome at my home anytime,” he replies and walks over to kiss her on the cheek. It bewilders me how drastically his mood changes.

  “Boys, get back to work. Finish what we started or there will be no lunch,” Dad then proclaims. What did I just saying about his ever-changing moods?

  ****

  The heat is getting worse, and I feel the blisters starting on my feet. We need a pick-me-up; to sit down even for thirty minutes would be bliss.

  “Man, I’m starving,” Thomas shouts, and I’m sure I heard his belly grumble. I can’t help but chuckle because he is always hungry. I don’t risk a glance at Tyler—he doesn’t deserve my attention right now. Brooklyn works super-fast, and lunch is all set up ten minutes later.

  “Guys, it’s ready. Come on in,” she calls out from the back window. We look at Dad to get his approval. He nods.

  The wholesome savory aroma from the food has my stomach rumbling and my senses on overload. It smells divine, so we head inside to knuckle down and devour it.

  Mom kept her word and set out some ground beef for us to cook, and Brooklyn does a perfect job of cooking the hamburger patties. Brook has everything set out for the hamburgers—Swiss cheese, onions, pickles, lettuce, and ketchup. Corn on the cob and potato salad are on the side. Mom knows how much her growing boys eat.

  “Wow, Brooklyn, you have cooked up a storm. I owe you big time,” I declare as I kiss her cheek. We are very close; I guess I’m so used to giving her affection that I don’t notice crossing a line. I just want to show her how grateful I am.

  Momma always tells us the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I have to agree.

  “Oh man, these burgers are so good, Brooklyn.” Tommy moans in satisfaction.

  “Glad you guys like them. Mine is pretty delicious too if I do say so myself,” she replies as she bites into her own burger.

  Dad is the last one inside. He washes his hands and cleans up, grabs another beer, then takes his spot at the head of the table where Brooklyn has a burger ready and waiting.

  “Darlin’, you will make some guy very happy one day. These look great!” Dad declares warmly. Maybe if we had a sister, Dad would have mellowed a little. Too late for that.

  I notice that Brooklyn blushes a little at his comment and keeps her eyes on her food.

  “Thanks for making lunch. The last thing we felt like doing was cooking after hours in the heat and standing all day,” Tyler announces.

&nbs
p; That was pretty nice coming from Tyler.

  We enjoy our lunch. Tyler and I down three burgers, Tommy and Dad have two burgers, two corns on the cobs and potato salad with refreshing sodas to wash them down.

  “Boys, wash your plates, Brooklyn isn’t your servant,” Dad announces to us all. I wouldn’t dream of making Brooklyn clean up after cooking that awesome lunch.

  I head over and grab Brooklyn’s plate. “I’m washing yours, no arguments,” I announce so there is no way she can take over.

  “I wouldn’t dream of arguing about that. Enjoy,” she replies giving me a sassy wink.

  “I want you ladies outside in ten minutes so get moving,” Dad declares as he makes his way back outside.

  “Thanks again for making lunch and being here. You came right in the nick of time,” I say to Brooklyn. Her timing was impeccable.

  “No problem. Yeah, I noticed that. Are you and Tyler okay?” she asks looking concerned.

  “If he keeps his mouth shut, I have no problem with him,” I answer.

  “Well, that will happen when hell freezes over,” Brooklyn adds. We both know Tyler is a smart mouth who never knows when to quit.

  ****

  After lunch, there’s no rest for the wicked. Dad has us hammering the last fifty nails into the frames while he prepares the paint.

  Brooklyn has agreed to stay for another hour. She’s apparently using the time to work on her tan.

  “Holy shit!” I hear Tyler scream at the top of his lungs. A moment later, I see him haul ass around the garage with his arms and hands frantically waving above his head.

  My first instinct is to laugh. The sight before me is hilarious—to see a tough, cocky guy like Tyler running around screaming like a damn girl.

  I hold my stomach I’m laughing so hard. Tommy is laughing too.

  “Oh God, Ty, my chest hurts from laughing so hard. What the hell is wrong with Tyler?” Thomas asks.

  I manage to shrug my shoulders as I’m still laughing.

  Then I see it.

  On Tyler’s back as he turns around is the biggest damn spider I have seen in my seventeen years. It is a hairy monster, and it’s stuck onto his shirt.