Page 31 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)
“We know.”
They clamored around him, peering over his shoulder. He shouldn’t allow them to see, but he didn’t know what else to do. “We need to call 911,” he said weakly once Helen went still. “Someone find a phone.”
“Why?”
The question came from Toby, and it didn’t surprise Charlie.
The boy lacked empathy on all levels, and while in group therapy, he listened to others, immediately recognizing the traits of those gathered around in the circle.
They were just like Toby, and they all said the same thing.
Their addiction was someone else’s fault.
Their problems were always someone else’s fault.
In the beginning, he’d felt the same way.
It was Rebecca’s fault. It was Ben’s fault.
It was Vivian’s fault. They had made him into this weak man who couldn’t hold his own without help.
Over the course of six weeks, the facility changed his mind.
Six weeks. That was all it had taken. In six weeks, he learned to be held culpable for his own actions.
He learned how to thrive in a non-toxic world made up of caring counselors and staff who wanted you to be a better person.
Yes, the others were just as complicit in his downfall, but he could now admit he was responsible for his own path in life, and for the choices he made.
Helen’s ragged breathing returned, high and shrill. Leaning down, Charlie swiped the hair from her face. “Mom?”
She didn’t answer, her lids half-closed with only the whites of her eyes showing. Smacking her cheek lightly with his palm, Charlie winced when, on the third slap, the high-pitched wheezing from her lips halted completely.
“Is she dead?” Toby whispered. “Did we win?”
“What the hell do you mean, did we win?” Charlie hissed, unable to peel his eyes off Helen. “Fuck. We need to call an ambulance.”
There was no rise and fall of Helen’s chest, or any movement. The slits of her eyes had opened more, and her mouth hung wide with the tip of her tongue protruding through the gap.
Charlie released a shuddering breath, not in grief or shock at seeing his mother this way, but for his kids. Death didn’t need to revisit them so soon yet.
“Tobias, take your sister upstairs and wait for me.”
Latching on to CeCe’s hand, Toby led her to the stairs. “But did we win?” he asked again. “Can we have a home now?”
“What are you talking about?”
Toby lifted his chin bravely. “She said that we couldn’t live here until she was dead, and we needed a home, right? So did we win it?”
Shit. They had been listening.
“I don’t know what to say to that, Tobias.”
“Well, she’s dead, right?” Toby pressed. “She told you that once she’s dead, we would have a house here and another one, so we pushed her extra hard to make sure.”
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine .
Every drop of blood drained from Charlie’s face. Rising to stand, he stared at his children. “What did you do?”
CeCe whimpered around her thumb and hid her small body behind Toby, who kept a firm hold on her hand. It took the boy a minute to gather enough courage to reply, his bottom lip trembling as he spoke. “We won.”
You make me happy when skies are gray.
“What did you win?”
Charlie tried to keep his voice even and not let his churning gut get the better of him. He couldn’t very well tell the police that his two small kids had shoved their grandmother down the stairs, hoping they would kill her so they wouldn’t be homeless.
“A house,” Toby answered. “We can make a Haven House here!”
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.
Charlie’s gaze lowered to his dead mother at his feet.
Once the word got out about her death, he wondered how many people would cheer over Helen Fairweather's demise.
He almost laughed. Everyone. The answer was everyone.
His mother had no friends and no family she spoke to except for him and Trevor. She was alone.
With no one to mourn her.
And like she had said, the house and the villa were now theirs. Helen was a bitch, but she wasn’t a liar when it came to things like money and trusts, so all Charlie probably had to do was make a phone call, and everything would be moved to his name.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.
“A Haven House? Here?” Charlie stepped over his mother to take the kids upstairs while he called the police. They had to make the scene look just right, and the less interaction cops had with Toby and CeCe, the better. “Nah, I’ve got a better idea.”
Charlie had once considered the sunsets at his family’s beach house to be some of the best in the world, but this? Nothing compared to this.
“Run, run, run as fast as you can!”
Toby’s gleeful shout carried over the wind and was followed immediately by CeCe’s squeal of delight as her brother chased her down the beach of Magens Bay.
They had been playing all day in the surf, and while the sand here wasn’t as nice as the stuff back home, the kids had managed to build an entire sandcastle village along the shore.
His kids were happy.
He was happy.
And they were home.
Sitting on his beach lounger, Charlie swiped the sunglasses off his face.
His mother’s villa—his villa—rose up high behind him on the cliff.
A small place with six bedrooms and four bathrooms, it was just enough for them to live out a great life.
Maybe not the kind of life he had thought he would live, but that dream was as dead as the old him.
This was the new Charlie Fairweather. A man with a new life and new dreams.
A man who would never allow himself to sink so low again.
“That’s a nice place you’ve got there. ”
With one eye on the kids, Charlie half turned to greet the man walking over from the section of beach next door. “Thanks.”
“Bryan Carroll.”
Charlie shook the guy’s hand. “Charles Fairweather.”
Bryan stared up at the villa behind them. “I thought the Powells owned this place?”
Giving him a once over, Charlie determined that Bryan wasn’t a local by the expensive clothes and the way he held himself. The Bostonian accent was also a dead giveaway. Neat and tidy, with a belly hanging past the waistline of his shorts, Bryan looked like he knew how to eat and drink well.
“My mother was a Powell,” Charlie replied, unwilling to give him more information. Trust wasn’t something he would have here. “She’s passed on, and now the villa is mine.”
“I’ve always been interested in the property, but the Powells never entertained the idea of selling.
” Bryan sat uninvited on the lounger next to him, knocking CeCe’s beach towel off and into the sand to make room for his large body.
“My place is next door, and I already bought the lot on the other side. I like my privacy, you know.”
“I’m not interested in selling.”
Bryan chuckled. “For sure, not yet. You just got here! Take your time to enjoy island life.” He took a puff on the cigar clenched tight between his knuckles and focused on CeCe and Toby, continuing their game of tag.
“But maybe one day you’ll figure out island life ain’t for you.
So, if that day comes, you make sure you call your buddy Bryan first.”
Past where they sat on the beach, in the direction of the villa Bryan claimed to own, three men stood positioned not far off. Their gazes never stayed on one thing or another for very long, obviously security of some sort.
“Ignore them,” Bryan grumbled. “They’re necessary, but not the prettiest sight on this beach.”
Charlie took a good look at the man, trying to determine if he was famous. “Necessary?”
“They’re mainly for my daughter. I’m one of those over-protective fathers,” Bryan continued, grinning when CeCe whooped excitedly as she chased off a flock of birds resting in her path. “Fathers and daughters. You know how it is. We share a special bond. ”
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine .
“Yeah.”
“With sons, you have to mold them and guide them. They’re so much fucking effort.” Bryan waved a hand at Toby stomping in the waves. “But our girls, they don’t need us. They’re almost as smart as we are, and they can make their way in the world without our help, you know?”
You make me happy when skies are gray.
Livy would have loved it here. She would have been the final touch to making this place perfect. “Yeah, I know.”
“My daughter is the same age as your kids. She’s taking a nap right now, but maybe I’ll bring her by tomorrow so she can meet the new neighbors,” Bryan said, whipping a second cigar from his pocket and handing it to him. “Brandy doesn’t have many friends because I don’t trust nobody.”
You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.
Leaning over, Charlie allowed Bryan to light his cigar. “I get it. I’m one of those overprotective fathers, too.”
Nudging him with an elbow, Bryan grinned when CeCe kicked at the lapping waves.
“And it looks like our girls will get along. Brandy can be wild, but that’s good for girls.
It’s good for them to have a little spunk early on.
That way, when some dirtbag man tries to pull one over on them later in life, they can handle it. ”
That was a problem he didn’t want to think about just yet. CeCe looked almost identical to Rebecca, which was dangerous enough, and he could only hope she wouldn’t grow up to act like her mother.
“I think you’re wrong. I think our girls need us to help mold them.” Charlie puffed on his cigar appreciatively and pointed at CeCe. “I don’t want that one turning out like her mother.”
Bryan coughed as he laughed. “I hear ya. My ex was a Cabot, and if you ain’t from Boston, then you don’t know that means spoiled rich bitch. Not mother material, you know? Anyway, I cut her loose, and now it’s just me and my little girl.”
“Probably for the best.”
Toby joined CeCe, the two of them finding absolute joy together without the noise of Haven House and the other children getting in their way. It hit Charlie then just how close they had become. A family unit. A real one and all their own.
“We’re going to be okay.” He hadn’t meant to speak, but Charlie couldn't hold it in with the sun setting in the background and the sounds of his children’s joy in his ears. “This is all going to be okay.”
“Of course, you’re going to be okay.” Bryan nudged him again, a little harder this time, and gestured to the expansive beach. “You’re in paradise, where nothing bad ever happens.”
Please don’t take my sunshine away.
“You know what, Bryan? I think you’re right. Nothing bad could ever happen here.”