Page 3 of Along Comes Trouble

COLTON

“C ome on, you stupid assholes!”I swipe my hat off my head and slam it to the ground. “I cannot believe what I’m seeing here! They pay you to make that play!” Onscreen, the coach for the New England Patriots looks equally as pissed off as I am. He calls a time out and I head to the fridge for a beer. As I fumble in the silverware drawer for the bottle opener, someone knocks on the front door. It’s probably my brother David, stopping by to drag me over to the main house for poker Sunday .

“It’s open,” I yell, bending to dig past the clutter in the drawer .

The front door squeaks as it swings into the living room. “Hey.” It’s a soft voice. Female. Uncertain .

I straighten, brows tight, and find my sister standing just inside my trailer, smiling wryly. “Sarah?” I pause in my search for the bottle opener. “What are you doing here? Did you run out of nasty stuff to tell your friend about me?” I wink at my sister and go back to digging through the drawer. Sarah has a big mouth and I love to hate her for it .

“Yeah. About that.” Sarah gives me a sheepish smile, which is all the apology I’m going to get from her. “She told me she ran into you on Friday and got me wondering how my big brother was doing. So…surprise!” She holds out her arms and then lets them drop, her hands slapping against her thighs. “What are you looking for ?”

“The damn bottle opener.” I rearrange the mess of utensils one last time. “I just had it .”

Sarah saunters up to the counter. “You mean this bottle opener?” She swipes the thing out from behind a pile of junk mail and wiggles it at me .

“Would you look at that! I knew you had to be good for something other than making trouble.” I wink at Sarah and grab the opener from her, pop the top on my beer, and then take a long pull. “Your friend mentioned me, huh? You can grab a beer if you want one .”

Sarah nods and then pulls open the fridge. “You made quite an impression on Tessa.” She pokes her head out from behind the door. “Can you believe she has David’s step-daughter in her class? Small world, you know ?”

“Oh, the world’s big enough. It’s just Brookside that’s small. And Claire is David’s real daughter now. David adopted her this year. Poor thing’s an official Carmichael .”

Sarah takes the bottle opener I offer her and grimaces. “Yikes. It’s hard enough being a second or third born Carmichael. I don’t want to imagine what it’s like being an adopted Carmichael.” The bottle hisses as she pries the cap off. It clatters to the counter and she drinks .

“David’s good to Claire .”

Sarah shrugs. “Of course he is. He’s a nice guy, our brother. It’s just going to be awkward when Claire grows up and the farm goes to her younger brother because he’s blood and she’s not.” Sarah scowls, years of bitterness tightening her pretty face .

For the last several generations, our family has lived here at Carmichael Farms. As the first born, David is the clear heir to the property, regardless of how much work Sarah and I put into the place over the years. While I found ways to make peace with the situation, my sister couldn’t. She opted to get the fuck out of dodge the year before she graduated high school and has been living in an apartment in town ever since. While things between Sarah and the rest of our family have been strained, she and I keep in touch. About once every couple months, she’ll show up at my place like today or we’ll meet at Smitty’s and have a drink or two while we talk about everything except anything that really matters .

There was a time when David was in college where it looked like I would inherit the farm. His life was taking him to big places to do big things. While he was gone, I threw myself into helping Mom and Dad and was beginning to feel a sense of ownership around here when Dad had a stroke. David came home and took over, stealing the future I thought I’d been building. So, I bought a trailer, parked it on the edge of the property, and have lived here since. The farm might not be mine, but there’s too much of my blood and sweat here to leave now. Besides where would I go? What would I do? The only things I’m good at are working around this farm and football .

The TV flips back to the game and the cheering fans catch Sarah’s attention. “I still don’t know why you didn’t chase that dream.” With a jerk of her chin, she indicates the television. She judges me for the decision I made all those years ago. Everyone does and believe me, they don’t bother keeping their feelings secret .

No one knows why I didn’t pursue football, and that’s just how I like it. They say the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Sometimes, there’s a whole lot more taketh away than giveth, especially when you’re the second son in a hierarchical family like ours .

I cover up my thoughts with a broad grin. “You’re kidding, right? How could I leave when I had all this waiting for me?” I gesture around my trailer .

Sarah laughs and takes a drink of her beer. “There are a ton of cars in the driveway at the main house.” She doesn’t make eye contact, trying to look like she doesn’t care, even though I know she does .

“Yeah. It’s poker Sunday .”

“Poker Sunday ?” Sarah wanders over to the couch and plops down .

“Right? It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? David and I used to get together on Friday night with the guys, but now that everyone is getting married and having babies, they all voted to move it to Sunday afternoon so they could have time with their families.” I shrug. “Which really sucks for me during football season, but no one seemed to care about my little life .”

Sarah rolls her eyes. I don’t know if it’s the idea of poker Sunday or my desire to stay home and watch football that irritates her. My eyes flicker to the TV and I regret it. There’s no way this game will end well. It’s been a train wreck from the start and I’d be better off doing anything rather than sitting here and getting mad. “That teacher doesn’t seem like the kind of person you normally hang out with .”

“Tessa?”

“The teacher. The stuck up one .”

“Yeah. Tessa.” Sarah shrugs. “And be careful with the name calling, because you’re talking about my friend here. What makes you say she’s not the kind of person I’d normally hang out with?” Sarah’s phone chimes. She pulls it out, reads a text, and responds, laughing lightly .

I study my sister through narrowed eyes. Her already dark hair is dyed black and drapes over her shoulders in messy waves. Her jeans are tight and disappear into a pair of boots that match the black leather jacket that cuts off at her waist. It’s all in stark contrast to the teacher’s neatly styled strawberry blonde hair. Her crisp and colorful skirt. Her sensible flats and the small string of pearls around her throat. “Gee, Sarah. I don’t know why I would say that.” I laugh because the answer is so obvious .

“Tessa’s a little uptight, but she’s also really sweet.” Sarah scans another text .

“I’ll have to take your word for that. She was kind of a bitch to me .”

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