Page 30 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)

He nearly puffed his chest with pride at knowing the odds and ends of what went into him and the kids making it in the world on their own. He had investigated it when Vivian asked for a divorce.

“One month, Charles. ”

A few things in life would never change. The sky would always be blue, water would always be wet, and Helen Fairweather would always and forever be a heartless hag.

Charlie knew the monster well, having been the sole one of his siblings to be “loved” by her.

She hated Ben since he first began growing in her womb, and Trevor’s arrival only made the whole motherhood situation worse.

However, once they got out of diapers and Helen realized she could use her sons to her advantage, all bets were off.

Pawns in her game of life, none of them were ever safe.

For himself, she dangled him in front of debutantes, promising them marriage to the Fairweather golden boy while she whored Ben out to their mothers or grandmothers, all in the name of connections.

With Trevor, she forced him to serve as her ears, listening to the gossip from the shadows since no one paid him attention.

Helen never pretended to love them, and he truly didn’t think she was capable of it. Being tolerated by her was the best one could hope for, and it would seem he was failing yet again in that department.

“I’ll start looking for a job in the morning.”

With her gaze locked on the flames, Helen chuckled. “You could always ask Ben for a job.”

The joke missed its mark by a long shot. Charlie would never speak to his brother again for the remainder of his life. The day he buried Livy left no doubt in his mind that Ben would kill him if given the chance.

“That won’t be necessary,” he replied. “I was actually thinking of approaching your brother and seeing if he might have a position for me.”

Helen nearly dropped her wine goblet, the chair squeaking double time when she flopped around to face him. “You will do no such thing,” she hissed, the wrinkles covering every inch of her face deepening in their outrage. “You will not embarrass me.”

Before becoming a Fairweather, his mother had been a Powell. While not as wealthy and powerful as the Fairweathers, the Powells held a tight grip on the Dallas real estate market.

“Me?” he scoffed, leaning across the arm of his chair. “Are you kidding?”

She didn’t scare him anymore. This pathetic woman next to him wasn’t the she-devil that raised him. Helen was a caricature of her former self, wasting away to the sounds of the Home Shopping Network blaring on the TV.

Lumbering to her feet, she tugged at her polyester top to ensure it covered the protruding belly permanently hanging around her midsection.

Every piece of clothing she owned was two sizes too small since she refused to acknowledge that the shit ton of food she ate to combat depression might not be a great idea.

“You will stay away from them.” Helen pointed a finger in his face. “I mean it, Charles.”

He was half tempted to pop the gaudy fake press-on nail off the finger aimed between his eyes. “Or what?”

Blinking rapidly, Helen choked on her next words. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Is this what power felt like? This absolute rush of energy punching its way through your veins? If it was, he liked it.

“It won’t be pretty if you back me into a corner.”

Rising to stand, he marveled at how small and frail she seemed. When did this happen? When did this viper shrivel up into nothing more than a garden lizard?

“Does your family know where you live?” he asked. “How you live?”

“Charles—”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“Listen to me. I have plans for you that don’t need to involve them.

When I go, this house will be yours.” Placing her hands on his chest, Helen smoothed the wrinkles building on the cheap fabric of his shirt.

“The villa in St. Thomas is also yours. I have it all laid out in a trust. It’s not much, but the properties will be worth something to you one day. ”

No, they wouldn’t. He could maybe pull a couple hundred thousand out of this place, perhaps a little more, but not enough to do anything with. The upkeep on the villa would eat any income he could garner from it, making the property virtually worthless.

And she expected him to fend for himself in the meantime.

The bitch. This place might be a hollow palace of cheap shit, but it had plenty of room for him and the kids.

Sure, if they stayed, it would come with the requirement to tolerate her and all her vicious eccentricities, but it would be a stable roof over their heads.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine .

“How do you expect us to survive? You tell me to get a job, but I would have to save for a long time to afford a decent place,” he yelled, hoping the kids were already fast asleep.

These walls were thin and allowed little privacy.

“What am I supposed to do with the kids? They’ve been locked up in that house their whole life, and you just expect me to dump them in a school or a daycare? ”

“You cannot live here, Charles.” An evil glint entered Helen’s eyes. “Not unless you help me go after your brother.”

Ben.

It was always about the son she could never bring to heel.

There was a point in their lives when she and their father could make Ben dance their dance, but now she held no power over him, and maybe she never really did.

Maybe Ben had been playing the long game this entire time.

Maybe he was as smart as he pretended to be.

“You will leave Ben alone.”

Helen scoffed in disappointment. “I expected more from you.”

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.

“Then you’re an idiot.”

The look of horror on his mother’s face… oh, he was going to hold on to that sight for a lifetime.

“How dare you speak to me like that,” Helen seethed, her lips peeling back from her teeth. “I am your mother. I took you in when no one else would, and I will not listen to you belittle me and my hospitality.”

Charlie tilted his head. “I’m sorry, but didn’t you just say that the only way for me and the kids to have a home was either if you were dead or if I helped you go after Ben?

I don’t know why you hate him, but he’s hurting.

From what Trevor says, there’s not much of our old Ben left, so pat yourself on the back.

He’s already defeated, and you didn’t even have to lift a finger. ”

He might hate Ben, but God, he couldn’t stand that self-satisfied smirk on their mother’s face.

She was loving this. The suffering. Their suffering.

She loved being the one he was forced to run to and how Ben was so broken he’d left the remaining board members at Fairweather Holdings without their fearless leader.

“It’s not enough—”

A scuffle in the hall cut her off, and their heads turned toward the sound in time to see Tobias and Cecilia running off .

“Great,” Charlie mumbled. He didn’t want them to be scared about their future, and hearing his mother spouting off her insanity wasn’t going to help. “I need to deal with them.”

Helen shoved her wine goblet at him. “You’ll deal with cleaning up first,” she said, using the distraction to exit their conversation. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

All he could do was stand there, wearing borrowed clothes and holding two cheap glasses that weren’t even worth the effort to smash against the fake fireplace.

He was sleeping in here anyway, and didn’t need a mess.

Ever since he returned from the facility, Helen had made it clear that she didn’t want him in any of her beds, too afraid he might be carrying some sort of disease after staying in rehab.

So, the couch in the living room was his only choice, and it wasn’t that bad. The bed at the facility had been far worse. Made of the firmest plastic covering in the known universe, it caused many sleepless nights long after his withdrawal episodes ceased.

He placed the glasses on a side table and reminded himself he needed to be kinder to Helen.

She paid for the center, which wasn’t cheap, and cared for his kids while he was in.

Maybe her attitude was just tough love—if she even knew what love was—and he should be thankful that she had done so, allowing them a chance at a life together.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

But fucking hell, the pain. His baby. He missed his baby so much. Livy had been his sunshine. She had been his whole world.

When the house went quiet late at night, he could hear her singing louder than usual. The pain it caused stole his breath and robbed him of the heartbeat he no longer wanted. Livy had taught him that love was real, and he had never fallen so deeply—not even with Vivian.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll do better next time, baby. I promise.”

There would be a next time. He was sure of it.

They would be together once more, but next time, they would work hard to be better.

While in the facility, he met a man—a holy man—who taught him about things like karmic principles.

Monads. Soul families. Things that made sense.

To live through what he had, to feel these deep connections, a soul family made sense .

A stifled scream sounded through the house, followed by a rush of banging that ended in a grotesque thud. Dropping the glasses, he ran into the hall, nearly tripping over Helen’s body, lying sprawled face down at the foot of the stairs.

She didn’t move, and he froze, listening to her struggle for air.

“Dad?”

Charlie’s head snapped up at the sound of Toby’s voice. He and CeCe were coming down the stairs in their pajamas. Toby’s eyes grew wider and wider the closer they came, and CeCe was already sucking furiously on her thumb.

“Don’t come closer. Your grandmother is hurt.”

Kneeling next to her, Charlie tried to turn Helen over, but she began to convulse, and the children rushed forward to the bottom step.

“Guys!” Charlie shouted. “I said stay back. She’s hurt.”