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

by Aleya Michelle

  “Best thing I’ve heard all night. I’ll ask Cassie and Jake if they are ready to leave,” I reply as we screen the room for the two of them.

  I send my BFF a text message.

  Where are you, ho?

  “Let’s check outside,” I say as we make our way out the door.

  As we glance around trying to find our two besties, I feel my mouth drop open. They are both up against a brick wall, Jake is flush against Cas, and they are kissing frantically, totally all over each other in a heated passion. Her hands are in his hair, and God knows where his hands are.

  I wolf whistle. I just can’t help myself. Jake pulls back looking breathless, and Cassie peeks her head around his shoulder. They both chuckle and laugh when they see Tyson and me.

  “Busted,” I say to them both as we walk closer.

  They are both speechless.

  “We are getting out of here. You two coming?” Tyson declares smiling at the situation.

  “Yep, definitely, let’s go,” Jake answers, and Cassie nods smiling widely at me. We walk to the car as Tyson grabs my hand. He always needs to touch me, and I feel the need just as much.

  I glance behind and see Jake reach out and take Cassie’s hand.

  “You two are so fucking cute,” I state to them and then giggle into Tyson’s shoulder.

  Senior prom wasn’t as bad as I thought. I got to spend a fun night dancing with my favorite people, and now, as I leave with those same people, I realize just how lucky I am to have love and amazing friendships.

  “I’m so sorry, Tyson. I just have to go away just for a few weeks,” Mom tells me when I’m home from my afternoon shift at Monroe’s. “I can’t keep pretending things are great. I’m feeling lost and confused more and more lately. Work has become a chore, and I’m struggling now that your father is gone,” she confesses to me, and I have noticed her demeanor is sad and morbid.

  “The worst part is that I feel a little relief now that we are all free from Jimmy, which makes me sick. I’m a selfish, disgusting person for thinking that,” she says looking pained. “He hurt us all, Ty, more than I ever admitted to you boys. I should have walked away years ago,” she admits to me trying to justify her leaving.

  “Oh Mom, it’s okay. We can deal with everything together. Stay with us. We have each other, and we can work it out,” I plead with her. Walking away is not the answer.

  “I’m always here for you, baby, but right now, I need out,” she declares. “I need out of this town, away from this house, and away from his memory. I just need some space to clear my head. You understand don’t you, Ty?” she questions me. “I’m not leaving you boys, just getting the old me back so I can be the best mother I can be,” she confesses hoping to make more sense of her choice.

  “Right now, I’m no good to anyone,” she adds. “I will only be gone a couple of weeks, and then we can get on with our lives,” she tells me hugging me tightly.

  I know what she means by needing to get away, but it still hurts like hell.

  No matter her excuses, she was walking out on us—abandoning us when we need her most.

  But I wouldn’t beg her to stay. If she needed this, I would abide by her request and hopefully, help her heal in the process.

  Life would be more complex until she returns. Thomas will no doubt take it the hardest. Can’t she see that? He just lost his father, why does his mother want to leave now too?

  I will do my best to make sure he never thinks any of this is his fault.

  Life is cruel. Shit happens, but you gotta keep soldiering on because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

  ****

  Mom left Friday afternoon for her space and time away. She left us two weeks’ worth of chicken soup, casserole, beef stew, and spaghetti and meatballs, so I can just heat it up each night.

  Just as I assumed, Thomas has shut down. Either he goes straight to bed after dinner, or he’s unruly and gives attitude. The last straw for me is the next weekend when I find him at a house party drunk as a skunk.

  “Come on, Tom, you know better, bro,” I say to him as I drive him home. Thank God, Jay called me to tell me he was there and was having trouble standing up. I stop my truck twice for him to throw up—I see that as punishment enough. For now.

  Tomorrow is Sunday. I let him stay in bed and sleep it off, and then make him greasy bacon and eggs for lunch. I’ve left two pills on his side table with a glass of water for his head.

  “I’m sorry, Tyson,” he says to me as finally he comes out of our room.

  “It’s okay, Tom. I know what you’re going through is hard, and you were letting off steam,” I respond—we all feel a little abandoned right now.

  We discuss everything and hug it out. “I need to go back to bed before I throw up again,” Tom declares, and I chuckle. Hair of the dog … That’s the best remedy, but maybe not when you are fourteen.

  Hang on, that just gave me the best idea—Thomas needs a dog. A dog will love him unconditionally, and it will take his mind off all of the whacked-out events of the last few weeks. I can’t wait to put Operation: Hair of the Dog into action.

  I make a few calls on Monday at lunchtime. I saw a couple of puppies on the shelter’s website. I like the idea of saving a dog from a shelter—everyone deserves a chance at life.

  So after my work shift, I drive to check out the five terrier puppies they have there for adoption. They are all very cute—tan, tan and white, dark brown, black—but I’m totally drawn to the black and white guy with the big eyes. That is the one without a doubt.

  I sign the papers and pick up Tom’s new four-legged friend. He is adorable, only twelve weeks old, and he has one white patch over his left eye. He sits next to me in the truck, behaving himself the whole way home. So far so good.

  Tommy should be working on his homework; it’s after eight, so I sneak in the front door and cover the puppy with my jacket.

  “Tom, are you home?” I call out to him.

  “Of course. There are no parties going on tonight,” he calls back sarcastically.

  “Can you help me with something?” I yell back, as I kneel down and place the little guy on the carpet.

  “What do you need help with?” he asks me looking puzzled.

  It’s like it was meant to be when the puppy gallops toward Tom so happy and excited to see him.

  Tom’s face lights up, and his eyes go wide.

  “Hello there,” he says in his puppy dog voice. What is it with kids and animals that make humans talk differently?

  “Meet your new friend,” I say to him while smiling.

  “You bought me a dog, Tyson?” he questions me smirking widely.

  “Well, as long as you feed him and take care of him, he is all yours,” I respond. “A customer at work brought him in, and I thought of you,” I lie, but it’s a little white lie this time.

  As the puppy licks Tommy’s face, I see him smile a real happy smile, and it’s such a milestone for him I needed to see.

  “You got it, Ty. Thanks, bro,” he tells me as he pats and cuddles the puppy.

  “What are you going to call him?” I ask him.

  “He looks like a pirate or patch with that white over his eye,” Tom says staring at his new friend.

  “What do you think?” he asks me.

  “I think Patch is a perfect name,” I tell him truthfully.

  “Yay. You have a name. Welcome to the family, Patch,” Tom declares, and tears well in my eyes.

  This really was a great move. Hopefully, Patch can help heal some of the pain Tom is feeling. Well, hell, he might brighten all of our lives.

  God, I’ll be glad to see the end of senior year—no more classrooms or books or boring exams. I’ve been studying my butt off in my spare time, but that is rare these days, so I’ve had a lot of late nights. Today was exam number five, and I’m grateful for the coffee I had this morning because it’s fueled me up until now. I’ve taken up the new habit to get the caffeine fix.

  As I
arrive home, I think I see a shadow walk past the living room window. What the hell? Maybe the coffee is making me delirious. I creep onto the porch, and I see the shadow yet again. Mom is gone, and Thomas and Tyler are out. Shit, who the hell is in my house?

  I quietly sneak around to the back. I can see a figure plain as day. But it’s not the type of burglar I was expecting. It’s a woman, and she doesn’t look much older than I am—short brown hair, dressed in jeans and a tee. Who the hell is that?

  I try to be as silent as possible as I unlock the back door and sneak inside. I can see her frantically digging through our drawers in the kitchen. She must be a burglar, but what the hell would she be looking for in the kitchen?

  When I’m inside, I contemplate calling 911. I creep around the wall in the family room. She still hasn’t noticed me, thank God.

  I can see her closely. There is something familiar about her. I don’t think I’ve seen her before, but I can sense something familiar.

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” I state to her trying to get to the bottom of it.

  “Shit,” she replies, and she tries to make a run for the front door.

  “Who the hell are you?” I question her. She’s not your typical robber, and she’s obviously not after money.

  I block her escape. “Are you a drug addict? We have no money hidden here,” I declare.

  “I’m not stealing money or drugs,” she shouts to me sounding angry. Hey, hang on a minute here; you are the person in my house, so drop the attitude.

  “Well, what do you want? Couldn’t you have gone to 7-Eleven or somewhere easier?” I ask, and I see her face change.

  “Just let me out the door and I’ll go,” she pleads with me.

  “Maybe I’ll let the police deal with it,” I state calling her bluff.

  “I didn’t steal anything or damage anything,” she replies sounding a little annoyed.

  “Breaking and entering is still a crime,” I exclaim. “Do I know you?” I ask her getting that Deja vu feeling again.

  “No, you don’t know me,” she answers yelling angrily.

  “Well, you gotta tell me something before I call the damn police,” I declare and start to dial their number as a warning.

  “No wait,” she says and pauses for a minute. “I’m kind of family,” she admits, and I frown. What does almost family mean?

  “What, like a long-lost cousin or something?” I ask her totally confused and frustrated.

  “Not quite,” she responds.

  “Well, how are we related? I’m getting sick of these games,” I declare now feeling pissed off.

  “Okay, okay,” she exclaims. “I’m your sister. Jimmy and my mom had an affair.” She drops a huge bombshell.

  “What the hell? I don’t believe you,” I say to her. What proof does she have? Plus, this whole thing seems a little sketchy.

  “I knew you would say that. I have proof. Look, he signed my birth certificate,” she proclaims shocking me even further.

  “What the hell?” I say feeling shocked and puzzled, then I notice her eyes. They are Jimmy’s eyes. “Does my mom know?” I question her wondering how Mom will react.

  “Yes, your mom knows. I contacted them both a few years ago,” she states to me.

  I can’t believe Mom could keep something this huge from me. Well, from us all.

  “So why are you here and what do you want?” I ask her angrily. It’s all a bit too much finding this out, plus I’m tired, grumpy, and stressed as it is.

  “I’ll let you process what I just told you. What if I come back tomorrow afternoon, and we can talk?” she replies obviously noticing my frown, and possibly the bags under my eyes too.

  “Yeah, that’s a better idea. I’ll be home at three-thirty, and I’ll have Tyler and Thomas with me too,” I announce to her. Whatever she is here for, it includes the three of us not just me.

  “Sorry for scaring you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tyson,” she tells me and leaves through the front door.

  Shit. We have a goddamn sister. She called me Tyson, so she obviously knows a lot about us.

  I collapse on my bed. I need at least thirty minutes of sleep if I’m meant to function normally at work tonight. Only two more shifts and I have the next week off. I’m one hundred percent ready for a break; life is insane.

  Not to mention, we now have a new member of the Caine family.

  I hardly sleep a wink all night. I toss and turn as my mind wanders from one thing to another. I pull open my curtains and stare up at the amazing sky full of stars—they transform me with their shimmering beauty if only for a few minutes. I forget the world for a while and become lost in their shining sparkle.

  Of course when I finally fall into the land of slumber, my alarm blares, I could sleep for another few hours, so I snooze my clock twice. Then I jump up frazzled, take a quick shower, and make an extra-strong coffee.

  It’s game day. Not just any game day. The big one, it’s do or die. We have worked our butts off all season and to walk away losers now would be devastating.

  My mind is crazy; last night’s lack of sleep isn’t helping. It’s floating from football to losing Dad, to meeting my new sister, to Brooklyn leaving. Fuck, I need to clear my thoughts!

  But first, we need to pile in the truck and make like a tree and leaf, or we will be late. “I’m leaving in five, guys!” I shout out to Tyler and Thomas, who are finishing breakfast.

  “I’m ready,” Tom replies washing his bowl, and I see him grab his wallet and phone. He’s coming to sit with the juniors to support us. They just missed out on their final by one touchdown. Frustrating.

  I grab my Nike sports bag, shoes, water, and Gatorade and make my way out to the truck. Thomas follows a minute behind me—Tyler had better not take much longer. We jump in, and once seat belts are on, I flick the radio stations. I’m about to honk the horn, but slowpoke comes running out. “It’s like Groundhog’s Day with him; he’s always late,” I declare to Tom, and he chuckles but agrees with me.

  Tyler is in, and I start to reverse out while he is clicking his belt, not wasting any more time. I’ve learned not to say much to Tyler on game day. He gets extremely moody so avoiding an altercation is easiest.

  Parking at Lewis Stadium is never fun, but luckily, we are early so we get one pretty close. My phone beeps.

  Mom:

  Good luck today, Tyson. I love you, and you are incredible don’t ever doubt that.

  Go Wildcats!

  I read her message and smile widely. I needed her support today even if it’s only in the form of a text message—it’s better than nothing. I show my cell to Thomas, and he grins too; any message from Mom is a good one.

  Thomas finds his friends as Tyler and I make our way into the locker room. All of this will change for me next year—it’s going to feel very inferior. We do our usual high fives and handshakes with our team, and then it’s individual time.

  My ritual of listening to “Bitter Sweet Symphony” needs action and fast. I’m dressed in the usual getup, tights and jersey, knee and thigh pads, shoulder pads and cleats, earphones in, and I focus and relax. Nothing else matters right here, and now, it’s about football. Jimmy is no longer around, so I can win for me, I will make myself proud and enjoy playing while I’m out there.

  The last time we played the Falcons, we narrowly won by a field goal, so it could be anyone’s victory here tonight. It is a good fit for a final.

  “Okay, fellas, gather around. This will be my last pep talk this season,” Coach declares as we all make our way into the circle. “And for some of you, my last pep talk as your coach,” he proclaims looking at a few of us.

  “I’m not going to lie to you—it’s going to be tough as nails out there tonight. The Falcons are as good as it gets, and they will tackle fast and hard. But just remember that we are also as good as it gets. We are also tough as nails, and we can tackle just as fast and twice as fucking hard,” he exclaims to us revving us up the way we nee
d.

  “No matter what, I’m proud of you all, so let’s get out there and make victory ours!” he declares as we all cheer, wolf whistle, and shout.

  Now, I’m psyched up. I want this victory. I’m strong and tough and hungry. Bring it on.

  The mouth guard is in, and now, the helmet goes on last. I’m pumped after our warm up and ready to roll. No guts, no glory.

  ****

  “The crowd is going wild at Lewis Stadium tonight for the finals between the Cedar Lake Wildcats and the East Chicago Falcons,” the commentator says into the microphone.

  “Tonight’s game is set to be a nail biter from start to finish with some exceptional plays to be witnessed.”

  The fans and crowd are cheering loudly for our well-known team. “Go Cedar Lake,” a few kids shout out with excitement. “Wildcat’s to win,” I hear others scream out trying to outdo each other.

  The fans are the backbone of our team—their loyalty and encouragement really keep us motivated and hungry to win. We line up ready to run out through the tunnel.

  “We can do this, Wildcats,” Tyler tells us in his usual confident tone. Nothing seems to faze him; he’s untouchable.

  “Now, let’s welcome the first team Cedar Lake Wildcats to the field,” the commentator declares.

  The monstrous crowd roars and cheers, whistling and clapping as we make our way out. We confidently stride out onto the field with our heads held high, proud of how far we have come to get here. We deserve to be here, we are worthy, and we belong no matter what happens from here on out.

  The grass is bright green, the overhead lights illuminate Lewis Stadium, and it feels like we have hit the big time. The crowd has to be a sellout; there must be five hundred fans cheering for both teams with no empty seats in sight.

  I can smell the paint from the freshly marked lines, the scent of war is in the air. Team against team, we are enemies till winner takes it all and the loser walks away with nothing. The fans are deafening, screaming and shouting. They holler out as their favorite player makes their way out to the field.