Chapter 18
chapter
eighteen
“The Wicked Witch tried to make me a villain in the story, so I rewrote the damn book.” – Haven
HAVEN
Bang.
I jump up like a shot has been fired, but it’s not a gun. It’s worse. Anita…fuck.
She is a one-man demolition crew. Just like the song, she comes in like a wrecking ball, then she’ll drive the bulldozer and push your corpse out of her way.
“Where is he,” she asks, dramatically, looking around like he isn’t the only patient in the hospital room.
Cy tries to sit up.
“There you are, my poor, poor baby.”
Anita rushes to the bed in a flurry of white and black designer wear, her heels clicking annoyingly across the linoleum floor. If you want the living embodiment of Cruella De Vil, then Anita is it.
I will never understand in a million years what my father sees in the wicked bitch that I call stepmother. She is the exact opposite of my mom.
Anita drapes herself over Cyrus, and I have to look away.
She acts like she always has his best interest at heart.
This woman is as fake as they come. I used to think that she was just bristly with me, and actually loved Cyrus and my father.
Then I got older. I’ve realized that she loves the dollar signs attached to her son and the prestige of being married to Auguste Gaillard.
She couldn’t care less about the men themselves.
Anita’s perfume hits me like a punch to the face, and I step back. The flowery scent is giving seventies porn hoochie over couture.
“Mom, I can’t breathe,” Cy says, voice muffled with half his face covered.
Great, she’s going to smother him to death after the doctors save his life.
Anita is ridiculous. I’m not sure who she is acting for, because I won’t film or post this crap.
She pushes herself up and dabs at her eyes with a tissue that she pulls out of nowhere like a magic trick.
I glance at the door expecting my dad to walk in, but he doesn’t. Everything inside of me is screaming to leave, but I feel an obligation to make sure she doesn’t do something stupid. I trust Anita as far as I can throw her.
“Why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep worrying me? Another hospital. Another headline. Another rehab. I can’t take any more of this, Cyrus.
You promised that there wouldn’t be any more of these scandals,” she says in one long breath, while putting on the thickest English accent I’ve heard her do yet.
I almost burst out laughing and turn my head away to get control of my expression.
Anita has lived here since she was ten, but her English accent gets stronger every time I see her. She seems to believe that having a fancy accent makes her sound sophisticated and more popular. She is genuinely certifiable.
“Mom, I didn’t overdose,” Cy says, his expression darkening.
“Cyrus, the first step in healing is to stop lying and accept who you are,” she says, like she is an authority on the matter. “It’s the only way you’ll get better.”
Her condescending tone is grating on my nerves.
“Mom, I’m telling you that I’m not using again.”
I know from the news articles I can’t escape that Cy spent time in rehab, but I never inquired about what.
“Please, son. I know when you’re lying. Just look at you. You’re a disaster.”
“He’s not,” I say, jumping in, unable to help myself.
Anita’s raptor glare turns on me as she crosses her arms. She hasn’t changed since the day my father brought her home—with Cy in tow—and told me he was marrying her. It came out of nowhere. I’d never met either of them before, and wham, insta-family.
“Oh…you’re still here.”
She looks me up and down, not bothering to hide her distaste. Anita has never liked the fact that Dad usually takes my side in any argument. At least when he was around.
“Nice to see you too, Anita,” I drawl. “What did you do with my father? You didn’t finally push him into jumping out of the plane. Not that I’d blame him.”
I swear she hisses at me.
“Always with the sarcastic jokes.”
“What can I say, it’s my thing when my bullshit meter is going off.”
She gasps and then huffs.
“I see, well, Auguste is downstairs talking to Declan about this whole embarrassing mess.” She flicks her fingers toward the door. “Why don’t you run along and see him?”
I cock an eyebrow, my inner bitch rising to the surface.
“And leave you alone with Cy, so you can tear him down, not listen to him, and then force him into whatever plan will make you look good? I don’t think so.” I cross my arms.
Cy reaches out and touches my arm. And just because I know it will annoy her, I take his hand in both of mine and hold it tight. Anita watches us, her face going red and nostrils quivering like her head is about to explode.
“Well, I’m not sure when you got your medical degree, but I don’t need your input. I know my son.”
“Obviously you don’t,” I shoot back. “I’m not sure how you can, considering you don’t see him as a son but a dollar sign.”
“How dare you?” Anita snarls. Hands on hips. Shoe tapping. Eyes murderous. “Are you really going to let this little bitch talk to me like this, Cyrus?”
“Mom, stop,” Cy says, looking between us. “Leave Haven alone.”
“Leave her alone? Did you hear what she said to me?”
“Haven’s not wrong. I told you I’m not using, and you’re not listening.”
She rolls her eyes. “Spare me. Dr. Avery said—”
“I know what Dr. Avery said, and I did not OD,” Cy cuts her off, his voice gruff with anger.
Dr. Avery is the doctor who helps celebrities suffering from addiction in the industry. I know who he is without anyone having to explain. And I honestly don’t care why Cy was there before. All I care about is that he’s not judged now because of it.
Anita glares at me.
“Do you mind giving us some space? I have a few family things to discuss with my son, and that doesn’t include you.”
Unbelievable.
“Mom, that’s enough,” he growls and then coughs.
Her face softens as she sighs and looks at her perfectly manicured red nails.
“Well, she’s not. Not really. But fine.”
“I imagine my father will be interested to know that you don’t think of us as family,” I say, emphasizing us.
Anita’s jaw tightens. Her smile is flat as the corner of her mouth turns up.
“You’ve always been a problem child. I still think it was your terrible influence that sent my poor Cyrus down this path of self-destruction. So, excuse me if I’m not overjoyed that you’re back.”
Cyrus squeezes my hand tighter.
“Mom, if you say one more bad thing about Haven, then you won’t be welcome here. Haven is staying.”
She looks at our hands again.
Anita opens her mouth. Cy lifts a finger.
“I mean it. One more word.”
“Fine then, as you wish. But, if you’re not using then what happened,” Anita asks, crossing her arms.
“That’s between my doctor and me. And no, he’s not going to tell you,” Cy says, shocking me.
Anita has always had full control over him. I used to make fun of how he danced when she pulled his strings. In hindsight, that may not have helped our…friendship or whatever we were.
“This is unacceptable,” she hisses, before she whips around in the same dramatic fashion as she came in, and stomps out. The door slams behind her.
“She’s always such a joy.” My voice is both sunny and condescending.
Cy snorts.
“Thanks for the backup, but I’m used to your mother and how to handle her,” I say, rolling my shoulders as if I’ve just finished round one in a boxing ring.
“I know you can. But you never should’ve had to defend yourself, at least when it came to anything with me. She always blamed you for everything. And I let her blame you, hell I encouraged it. I’m sorry.”
I smile at him.
“You were worse,” I tease.
His smile falls. Eyes serious. We stare at one another, the silence heavy. I gently tug my hand away just as the door opens and the guys flood inside.
“Who the fuck let the Ice Queen into the building,” Ash asks.
“Only Satan knows,” Ledger drawls, and they all laugh.
“What the hell is she even doing here? She doesn’t have any legal authority over us anymore, and we all know she isn’t here because you collapsed,” Vex says.
This is all news to me. I’ve never heard a peep of dissent against Anita.
When I left, she was their manager. Well…
Cy’s manager. Anita has always seen everyone else as expendable.
I’m still surprised that she hasn’t pushed harder for a solo career.
Though that probably has more to do with Cy.
He has never seen himself as the star, at least not the solo star. The band is a unit.
“You know what she’s like. She’ll perform for the cameras downstairs with tears in her eyes and go on and on about her son and how worried she is,” Cy mutters and pushes himself up higher in the bed.
“Well, if you want us to throw her out, we will,” Eren offers.
“No, it’s fine.” Cy waves off the idea. “She will just make a bigger scene if you do that.”
It’s all I can do to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. I’m starting to wonder if hell froze over, and I haven’t gotten the memo. It almost gives me hope that people—Cyrus Vale in particular—can change or at least grow up.
“You have to see this.” Ash pulls out his phone, and I give the guys room to surround the bed.
Space. I need to put space between Cy and me for a little while. I’m slipping into old habits that don’t want to die. A flicker of guilt tickles the back of my mind. If Charles ever acted like this with one of his female friends, I wouldn’t be happy.
With a sigh, I quietly slip out and close the door as a realization settles in my chest. The most dangerous monsters aren’t the ones we fear…they’re the ones we can’t stop loving. Cy is my monster, and I’m terrified that I’m not strong enough to defeat the effect he has on me and keep him safe.