Chapter Ten
TYLER
A few days after family dinner, I find myself sitting in my parents’ house for the family dinner I really could care less about.
Ryan.
It echoes in my mind. One name that slipped from her mouth has granted me access to a series of possibilities. That one name is simply all I need.
Straining laughter brings my attention back to the reality in front of me. These family dinners are unfortunately my way of keeping tabs on my mother. Getting eyes on her to ensure she doesn’t have any marks or change in her behavior. I may be good at hiding things, but she certainly is better.
While I’d hope Mitchell knew better by now, he’s unpredictable in this house. So much time outside of here is spent being precise, meticulous, with every move planned and designed for success.
In here, he’s able to bleed into his natural state, staining all of us in his wake. Mitchell is one of the most rationally irrational people I know. Drinking only makes it worse.
Sam sits next to me with a spine of steel and white knuckles around her drink.
A total contrast to the mouth full of sass and vulgar gestures she normally has when it’s just our mother.
Everything about her is unnaturally still, save for the small bounce of her foot as it hangs from her crossed legs.
I keep my calm demeanor, my body lax to show Mitchell he is simply not a threat. He gets off on power and fuels it with fear. The silence is unbearably loud until my mother finally cuts the quiet with her amber eyes longing for interaction.
I’m sorry this is all you get.
“So, Sam, how is that paint shop?” Her eyes are practically pleading the silence away at this point. The frown lines around her mouth and between her dark brows seem to crevice deeper when her husband is around.
I hacked the cameras in their house to keep tabs on her.
Notifications pour through if voices get too loud or movement gets too swift.
Facial recognition also alerts me as soon as Mitchell comes home for the day.
All so I can know when to keep close watch of the footage.
He only ever yells—the hitting stopped because he knows the consequences now.
“It’s an art studio,” Sam corrects her through clenched teeth.
“Right, the art studio. Do you get a lot of business?” Our mother continues, desperate for interaction.
I feel bad for her but I also don’t. I tried to give her an out and she wouldn’t take it. As a child, I begged her to leave him numerous times and well into adulthood, too. The conversation always stayed the same.
Now I sit here every other week, checking on my frail, soft spoken mother. Hoping when I finally see her, she isn’t hiding any physical evidence from me that I wasn’t able to see on the cameras.
“It brings enough. I –” Sam is cut off by Mitchell.
“What she means to say is, it pays for the bare minimum to keep it running, because a place like that can’t actually be a place of true business and make a profit. Especially when you let people keep coming in for free.”
My eyes flick to Mitchell sitting on the couch in front of us with a warning glare. “Watch it.”
“Well, since you want to make your presence known Tyler, why don’t we talk about you,” he bites back.
Here we fucking go again.
Sam snaps her head towards me, her eyes wide as fear starts to glisten in them. I just roll my eyes and give her a reassuring smile.
Growing up, I was afraid of Mitchell. But after he put me in the hospital and I knew the worst was over, something in me shifted. I was no longer afraid. Even now. Especially now.
“Mitchell, please,” My mother intervenes. “We barely get to have dinner together as it is.”
“Quiet woman,” he snaps.
“Do not speak to her that way.” I clench the now empty glass in my hand.
“Tell me Tyler, what do you know about speaking to women when you can’t even keep one long enough to make a wife?”
It’s the same conversation about needing a wife on my arm. Children to become shackled as heirs to this life I hope they never have to experience. It makes you look respectable, Tyler. But god forbid that person be anyone outside of Shelby. Because big names make big reputations.
“You are the heir to this company! We already had you and Sam by the time we were your age. You need to marry someone of good name and breeding to have a strong front. A solid bloodline with years of success behind it.”
By the determination in his voice, I can see he means what he says, and I try not to laugh.
“How can people take you seriously when you are gallivanting around the city, not bringing a single date to any of your events? You’re acting like a bachelor.
You left Shelby when everyone was so sure you were going to marry.
You pissed off a lot of fucking people. Burned too many damn bridges with that.
We all still expect you to follow through with your promise. Your duty.” He points at me.
“Daddy, that’s not Tyler. He made it very clear to Shelby his intentions–” Sam tries to chime in before getting cut off once again.
“And you too Sam,” he bites back. “You are basically whoring around the city! You guys don’t think I have eyes all around, but I do.
You of all people should know this Tyler since you have eyes everywhere too.
You are my eyes. You guys are grown ass adults who come from a good pedigree, and you are creating a disgrace to the Caddell name! You are a damn whore Sam!”
I’m on my feet with a fist balled into his dress shirt before he can take another sip of his drink. The glass falls over and shatters on the ground, but my eyes are set on his greens that match my own.
“I will only say this one more time before I sew those lips shut,” I say with lethal calm. “Watch your fucking mouth. I will not think twice before I make you live the nightmares you made me live as a child.” I release him, sending him back into the cushions of his chair.
“Mom, leave the house. Go to a friend’s home or get a hotel for the night. I won’t leave until you do. You need to be away from him while he is drunk like this.”
I look at my sister who sits still on the couch, her body frozen in fear as she aimlessly stares where our father sits.
“Let’s go, Sam.” I reach a hand for her.
“Tyler, please,” my mother pleads.
Mitchell gets up from the couch and slams the bottle of bourbon in the fire, making it roar.
“Mom, you heard my words. Please,” I urge through clenched teeth. I’ve been begging her all my life.
Mitchell glares at us with blazing eyes, stalking towards us, slightly swaying. Her contemplation speaks volumes. Allow me to physically handle this or leave to avoid it all. But by the grace of whatever exists, she grabs her coat and keys and rushes to the door.
I shove Mitchell back, and guide Sam out of the house. The harsh cold hits our skin as we walk out the door and get our coats on. Mitchell’s yells and slurs are silenced by shutting the door in his face, despite the chaos of them ringing in my head.
I wish this was the last time, but I know it isn’t. It never is.
We always come back.
Opening Diane’s car door, I kiss her head. “I love you, mom. Text me when you make it. Do not, for the love of god, come back here tonight. Let him sleep it off.” I hand her my credit card in case she needs a hotel for the night.
Mitchell has frozen their accounts before, and without his money, she has nothing except me. That’s why I always keep an extra card on hand, for her.
Unshed tears gloss her eyes as she looks up at me. “Tyler, I’m so sorry. He hasn’t drank like that in a while…”
Holding a hand up, not wanting to hear any more of her excuses, I press another kiss to her cheek. I lean my arms on the open window frame and bend down to tell her one last thing. “The offer still stands. It always does. When you’ve had enough, you tell me.”
As soon as I shut the door of Sam’s jeep wrangler, I pinch the brim of my nose and take in a deep inhale. A groan leaves my throat as I rub my face while leaning back into the seat. One single glance at Sam tells me she’s just as exhausted as I feel.
“Martha’s?” She asks.
“Yes, please,” I laugh. It’s like she can read my mind.
She smiles at me. “I’ll text the family right now.” She pulls her phone out, her purple nails tapping the screen speedily.
I hear my own phone alert within a few seconds, getting notifications from my family’s chat and everyone agreeing to meet at Martha’s. A message from Sunny comes through, bringing just a hint of a smile to my lips.
Getting off work, be there in 30.
I like you, Sunny.
As soon as we get to Martha’s, my phone lights up with my mother telling me she’s made it to the hotel. I rub my face and check her location anyways. Thankfully, she is where she says she is.
I check my bank account to make sure the purchase of the hotel room is on there for more assurance.
To my dismay, it is. Breathing out a shaky breath, I check the cameras in their house for one last reassurance.
The feed shows Mitchell sitting by the fire, smoking a cigar, and downing another glass of amber poison.
Jumping camera to camera, the house is empty aside from him.
My attention is brought back to reality as Anthony arrives, followed by Cole, then Macey, and then the final piece. I know she’s here before I even look up. As soon as I do, Sunny is walking through the door, wearing her scrubs, which seem to be a frequent outfit of hers.
I like you in scrubs, Sunny.
Cole and Sam order drinks with Anthony following after.
Macey must be securing a pool table for the night.
I sit at our regular booth, itching to look at my phone again.
So I glance at it, checking my mother’s location to find it’s still at the hotel, just like it was five minutes ago.
With my eyes set on my phone again, I feel a soft plop right next to me in the booth.
Her presence wafts me in a wave of coconut and vanilla.
Sunny.