Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
HAVOC
“I think a screw is missing,” I say, pushing around all the screws that came included with my flatpack TV stand. “There’s supposed to be six of them, and I only count five.”
Seven is on the floor, looking at the installation instructions, while Vortex is busy using the tiny allen wrench to secure two boards together.
“It can’t be missing,” Vortex says, annoyance dripping from his voice. “It’s probably under your ass somewhere.”
I have no idea what his problem is. I’m supposed to be the one with the short fuse, but the tension in the room is palpable. Of course, Seven has been sticking to my side the entire time, barely even looking in Vortex’s direction.
Make them make up , Caleb had ordered.
How the fuck am I suppose to do that?
I’m having a hard enough time dealing with the information that Seven’s own mother had abused him so badly. I’m not going to pry as to the exact details, but based on Seven’s… everything, I’ve got a pretty good idea.
I want to murder the woman .
“I’ll find it,” Seven says, his own voice subdued. He starts digging through the packaging the screws had come in, but after a few minutes, he shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s here.” He flinches, like he expects us to blame him.
He hasn’t been acting like himself, either, but it’s not surprising. Caleb had pushed him pretty hard.
“I don’t want to run to the hardware store,” I complain. “Maybe we don’t need it.”
Vortex grunts and drops the allen wrench onto the floor. “Why did it take you so long to even buy furniture? Shouldn’t you have done this a month ago?”
“I’ve been busy,” I hedge, my own annoyance ratcheting up.
“And why are you buying this cheap crap? Caleb pays you well enough that you can afford real furniture,” Vortex goes on.
“What’s your problem?” I snap at him. “Help me assemble this, then we can go out for lunch or something.”
“Nothing is my problem,” he snaps right back.
Seven looks between us, his expression bleak, but Vortex doesn’t seem to notice until I look pointedly at him, then at Seven.
His face softens, and he goes to Seven, crouching down in front of him. “Hey, beautiful,” he says softly. “It’s okay. We’re frustrated, that’s all. Not with you. Never with you.”
Fucking liar. If he wasn’t upset about that whole thing with Seven—another thing I don’t want more details about—then he would have joined us the other day. He wouldn’t have had to hear second-hand what Seven had revealed to us.
Or rather, the information Caleb had already known about. I wonder what else he’s hiding.
I reach for the allen wrench, already dreading how it’s going to dig into my skin as I use it. “Okay, if Vortex won’t help, I guess it’s you and me, Seven.” I grab the already assembled boards and hold the next board—a future shelf—in position. “Hold this here, and I’ll screw it into place.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to help,” Vortex says, and I can hear the strain in his voice as he tries not to snarl at me again. “Seven, would you mind grabbing us some water?”
Seven looks warily between us, like he expects a fight to break out at any given second, but he nods and gets up from the floor. “Yeah. But don’t… Don’t kill each other, okay?”
He leaves the room, and Vortex turns to me before saying quietly, “I’m not trying to be a dick.”
“Doing a bad job of it,” I mutter while I try to get the screw in place while holding the boards with my other hand. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”
Vortex grimaces, and at first, I don’t think he’s going to answer. Then he says, “I’m so pissed off — not at him, but… you know — and I’m scared he’s going to think I’m pissed at him.”
“He already thinks you’re pissed off at him,” I say. I finally get the screw in far enough that I can tighten it properly, and as expected, the stupid allen wrench digs into my palm while I turn it.
“I’ll talk to him,” he says. When I glance skeptically at him, he insists, “I will.”
I roll my eyes, then glance in the direction of the kitchen. I spot Seven’s shadow in the archway.
“You can come back now, Seven. Screwing is thirsty work,” I say, smirking when Vortex groans at my bad joke.
Seven creeps back in with two glasses of water in hand. He gives one to me and the other to Vortex, offering a tiny smile. “You didn’t murder each other. Progress.”
“I was going easy on him,” I say. “Vortex wouldn’t have stood a chance if I’d attempted the whole murdering thing.”
Vortex makes a rude sound, then he offers his arm out to Seven. Seven briefly looks wary, then he goes to him, letting Vortex wrap that arm around him.
I should be jealous, but instead, I’m relieved that they’re getting over their tiff. Seven needs as many people on his side as he can get.
I take a quick drink from my glass, then turn the page on the instructions. “Okay. Next step. More screwing. If Seven holds things in place, we can take care of the screwing?—”
“Will you stop saying ‘screwing’?” Vortex demands, exasperated.
Seven snickers, though, letting Vortex squeeze his shoulders before releasing him. “I don’t know. I think screwing could be fun,” Seven says.
“Not until this TV stand is in place, so I don’t have to sit on the floor to play video games,” I complain. “Although if we want to screw, you two can help me with?—”
My phone rings with the distinct ringtone I’ve set for my mother. I curse and drop the screws, reaching into my pocket to answer the call.
“Mamá?” I ask. “What’s up?”
There’s a long silence on the other end, then she says, “Can’t I call to hear your voice?”
I glance over at Vortex and Seven, then walk into my bedroom and shut the door. “You can. Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” she answers, and her voice cracks on the word. “I love you so much, Javi. You know that, right?”
“I do. And I love you too, Mamá.” The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. “Is everything all right? Do you need me to come over?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong.” She sighs. “I burnt myself while cooking the other day, that’s all. It’s already all patched up, but if you were here I’d ask you to help me in the kitchen. It hurts to use the arm too much.”
The blood freezes inside me.
“How did you burn yourself?” I ask.
“I was clumsy. You know how I am,” my mother answers.
Yeah, I know. I know that the Step Asshole trips her, or startles her, or throws things at her—when he isn’t outright hitting her.
“If it hurts to use the arm, make the Step—make Marcus help you,” I point out. “He can reach all the stuff.”
The pots and pans he’d put in the highest cabinets, so that my mother would have to ask for assistance anytime she wanted anything. At our old place, before we’d moved in with him, those had all been in the lower cabinets.
“No, I don’t want to bother him. He’s having a hard time at work lately. There’s a new supervisor…” my mother says, and I can feel the rage boiling over.
“He’s stressed? So fucking what? We’re all stressed, Mamá. That doesn’t give him the right to do any of that shit to you,” I growl, and I hate how angry I sound, I hate that I can’t keep it together for her. “I’ve got extra space at my apartment. You can come stay with me. I’ll let you take my mattress, and I’ll cook for you, and I have everything within easy reach?—”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” she says, far quieter. “You need your own life, mijo. How will you get a girlfriend if you live with your mother?”
“The same way every other man gets a lover!” I shout back. “If my future lover can’t handle the fact that I want to take care of you, then I don’t want them.”
There’s a long silence, before she answers, “You don’t need to yell. I’m not a child, and you don’t need to take care of me.”
I let out a frustrated sound. “He’s abusing you! You know that, I know that, the corrupt cops know that! Just let me help you!”
“Don’t use that word,” she says, angry now. “I’m not being abused, Javier. I think I’d know if I was being abused. Marcus isn’t like that. He’s sweet. He brought me roses the other day, and he says we’ll take a vacation next month.”
“He’s not going to take you anywhere,” I snap. “He never does. And he brought you roses so you’d forget that he burned you with the pan, or whatever the fuck he did to injure you!”
“I told you, that was my own fault,” she says defensively. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother calling. You’re so judgmental.”
“Yes, Mamá, why did you call?” I clutch the phone tighter. “You wanted me to know he hurt you, but you don’t want me to help you? What am I supposed to do? ”
“You really need to work on your temper,” she says hotly. “Maybe that’s why women don’t date you.”
“I don’t fucking care about women!” I shout back—and then I hang up on her, because I can’t fucking deal with this.
If I thought it would work, I would kidnap her and force her to stay with me. But I know she’d run right back to him, and somehow it would all be my fault.
I let out a frustrated howl and kick the mattress. Better than punching the wall and messing up the paint job.
I storm outside again, and of course Vortex and Seven are both looking at me with wide eyes.
“What’s your problem?” I snap at them.
Vortex seems like he’s about to retort with something I’m sure would piss me off even more, but instead, he looks at Seven. “Do you want to leave?” he asks curtly.
Seven shakes his head. “You should probably go, though,” he tells Vortex, then he comes to stand directly in front of me, stupidly without fear despite the fact that he had to have heard me yelling like he had. He has to see how pissed I am.
I don’t know if it’s his strange mood lately that has him so brave or his desire for me to fuck him senseless, but either way I have the urge to wrap my hands around his arms and squeeze as tight as I can.
“You should stay,” I tell Vortex. I howl again. “Fuck! Why the fuck won’t she fucking leave him? How many times does he need to hurt her for her to grow a fucking spine!”
Vortex doesn’t look particularly comfortable, but he stays in the room.
It’s Seven who speaks. “Maybe she can’t.”
“Can’t?” I ask, clenching my fists. “I’m here! I told her, I’ve got a place for her to stay, I’ll take care of her, I’ll help her move out! There’s no reason for her to stay except that she’s a fucking idiot!”
At that, Seven flinches. He shrinks in on himself, biting his bottom lip.
“You know how often the neighbors called the cops on us?” I ask him. “Every fucking time, my mom would be there, defending that asshole. After a while the cops would just knock on the door and roll their eyes. I always heard them afterwards, complaining about my mother and all other women like her who stay with these assholes ?—”
“So you think it’s dumb to stay in a bad situation?” Seven asks quietly. “That she’s dumb for not feeling right about leaving?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Vortex wince.
“Yes!” I answer, and I know it’s the wrong thing to say when Seven shuffles away from me. I can’t calm this helpless rage, though. “The door isn’t locked! He doesn’t have her trapped . She could walk right out and I’d be waiting with my car and she wouldn’t have to deal with all that shit ever again!”
Seven blinks several times. “Except she would have nothing. She would be completely dependent on someone else. She would still feel trapped, just by different circumstances with someone else.” He straightens. “My room was a revolving door,” he says, so quietly I almost can’t hear him. “People in and out, all the time. And someone…”
He lets out a strangled sound, and Vortex goes to him. He starts to wrap Seven in his arms, but Seven shakes his head.
“No. No, he needs to hear this. I need to say this.” Seven’s voice is shaking, though, and he’s pale. “One of my… my uncles. He offered to take me away. And I wanted… I wanted to go so bad but I didn’t .” He looks at me, his expression bleak. “Do you think I’m dumb for staying?”
The anger shatters.
I stare at him, my body suddenly numb. “No, Seven, not you. That’s different.”
Vortex hovers right behind Seven, looking for all the world like he wants to intervene, but Seven only wraps his arms against his own chest and focuses all of his attention on me.
“How is it different?” he asks. “You think she’s dumb for loving him, right?” His laugh is as wobbly as his voice, with no humor in it. “Then you probably think I’m really, really stupid for loving her . ”
Her . His own mother, the woman who’d done worse to Seven than the Step Asshole is doing to my mother.
My throat is dry, and I don’t know what to say to that.
Yes, he’s an idiot for still loving somebody who abused him like that.
No, I don’t think he’s weak or dumb.
“You—It’s different,” I repeat. “You were a child.”
Seven lets out another huff that might be an attempt at a laugh. “I’m not a child now, Havoc.”
I feel like the idiot now, for hurting Seven with my careless words. “But you got out,” I point out weakly. “You made the effort. My mother…”
“You have no idea,” Seven whispers, “how many times I could’ve left.” He’s trembling, and this time, he does turn to Vortex — and it hurts that he wraps his arms around Vortex instead of facing me.
“Why?” I ask hoarsely. “Why didn’t you leave before? I don’t understand. If you had the chance, if you could end all the hurt and suffering, why stay?”
I need to know. I need to understand why my mother is still with him, despite all the years of pain and misery, of how many times I’ve tried to make her see how bad he is to her.
Vortex squeezes him tight, and I can barely hear Seven as he replies, “Because she wasn’t always that way.” He swallows audibly. “Because I love her, Havoc. And if I don’t believe that she loves me back…” He trails off, then a sob wracks his body. “Then what will she do when she has me again? Because I am so damn scared of what she’ll do when she gets me back. Because…” Another sob, and he turns away from Vortex to look at me when he says, “Because… she is going to. One way or another, she’s going to get me back.”
“She isn’t,” I say fiercely. I take a step closer to him, but I keep my hands to myself. “Nobody is ever hurting you again, Seven. Not your mother, or the rest of your family, or Caleb’s grandfather or whoever the fuck. I’m— We’re —going to protect you. Right, Vortex? ”
“Always,” Vortex says, and his voice is unsteady too. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was near tears himself.
Maybe he is.
Seven doesn’t say anything, though. He looks small and sad and scared , and I don’t know that we can say anything to change that.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It’s inadequate, but it’s all I have. “I didn’t mean to imply… I’m only frustrated.” My fists clench, and it’s so much easier when I can simply beat up the source of my frustrations. “I love my mother, and I want to help her, and it hurts to watch her get beaten down by him. I don’t… I don’t know how to help her, because she won’t let me help.” I laugh bitterly. “I guess I know why. I’m just like him. Yelling all the time. Punching things. Hurting people.”
Seven stares at the floor. “That doesn’t make you like him,” he mumbles.
“Way to make it about you, Havoc,” Vortex says, his voice thick with venom. “First you imply by flat-out saying she’s dumb, then you start whining about how you can’t control your goddamn temper?” He laughs, then wraps his arms around Seven again. “We’re leaving.”
If they leave, Seven and I are going to be like he and Vortex were at the start of this day. I shake my head.
“No!” I reach out for Seven and ignore Vortex’s glare. “Seven, please. I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re dumb. I think you’re incredibly strong, okay? I wasn’t thinking. I hurt you, right after I said I’d never do that. Please, don’t leave angry. Tell me what I can do to fix it.”
“I’m not angry,” Seven says, and somehow, it’s worse to think that he might not react to this with anything other than anger. “And there’s nothing for you to fix.” His smile is so obviously forced that I want to put a fist through the wall because I’m so pissed at myself for doing this to him. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” Vortex snaps. “But Seven cares about you, so he’s going to forgive you. Whether you deserve it or not. So you’d better make sure that you deserve it, Havoc, or you and I will do more than have words. ”
I roll my eyes at Vortex. “You’re one to talk, with how you iced Seven out because you couldn’t handle a bit of rough sex.”
Vortex’s jaw sets hard. “I said I’d talk to Seven about it. I don’t need to justify anything to you.”
“Oh, so you get to make mistakes, but I don’t?” I growl at him. “You couldn’t even manage to be there the other day, all because you were too?—”
“Stop!” Seven shouts. “You don’t… You don’t get to fight about who hurt me the most!” He shakes his head. “I’m calling Caleb.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, fumbling with it for a minute.
“Wait!” Vortex and I both say. I look at Vortex and sigh. “Okay, really, I’m sorry. I’ll drop it. How about I order food for us, and we finish this fucking TV stand so we can play video games in comfort?”
“I don’t really want to be here,” Seven says, hugging his arms against his chest without letting go of his phone. “I need… I need Caleb.”
Vortex stares at him, and I can read the conflicting emotions in his face. He’s as pissed as I am — and as hurt. But to make this about us would make this even worse.
“I’ll call him,” Vortex says. “You can wait in Havoc’s room until he gets here.”
I nod. “Yeah. Do you need a drink? I’ll grab something. And I probably have a few granola bars around if you need a snack.”
Seven shakes his head and shuffles off to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
I groan, annoyed at myself and at Vortex. “Fuck. Well, so much for helping you and Seven make up. Now he’s pissed at both of us.” I glance down at the TV stand and get onto the floor again to get back to work. “Tell Caleb to bring food for us, at least, if he’s going to steal Seven. And beers.”
Vortex grunts, taking out his phone and stepping into the hallway.
He stays out there for a long time, not returning until he has Caleb in tow — Caleb, who doesn’t have food or beers in hand .
“For the record,” Caleb says, “I really didn’t expect both of you to be such idiots.” He raps gently on the bedroom door. “Seven? I came to collect you.”
Seven emerges, his face blotchy and red. He goes straight to Caleb, looking like a scared little boy, and Caleb wraps his arm around Seven.
They leave without another word.
Vortex glares at me one last time before shutting the apartment door.
Great.
I glower at my stupid TV stand, still in multiple pieces.
I lift up one of the boards, ready to smash it into the floor—and stop myself before I do more damage.
Fuck.
I really have a problem.