Page 24 of Gambler's Fallacy

Seven shivers, but when he looks up at me, I see only blind fear.

I want to find who put it there and beat the shit out of them.

“Ican’t,” he whispers. He drops the paint roller onto the tarp and wraps his arms around me.

I hold him and kiss the top of his head. Yeah, whoever hurt him deserves the worst hell. I’m going to enjoy beating the crap out of them.

After several long moments, Seven pulls away from me. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I answer gently. “You know I’ve always got your?—”

I’m interrupted by my phone ringing loudly.

I want to ignore it, but it’s the ringtone I reserve for my mother. I curse and reach for my phone, stabbing at the screen.

“Mamá!” I say. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, mijo,” she says sadly. “I miss you so much.”

It takes me a few seconds to realize she’s drunk. “Why are you drinking? You never drink.”

“You left me again,” she says with a sob. “I miss you.”

Crap. If she’s getting sentimental like this, if she’sdrunk, it’s not only because I moved out. “Did he do something to you?” I ask. “I’ll come over right now and pick you up.”

“No!” she snaps. “No, I’m fine! I wanted to hear your voice, Javier, that’s all. You don’t have to come.”

“Mamá, I will go over there right now. Pack your bags?—”

She hangs up on me.

I curse and glare at the phone. I call her back, but she rejects the call immediately. “What the fuck, Mamá?” I growl.

Seven is watching me with wide eyes. “Is everything okay?” he asks, then shakes his head. “No, obviously it’s not. What’s wrong?”

I grit my teeth. “My mother. She doesn’t call. I mean, she does, but not like this. She was drunk! She doesn’t drink, Seven. My asshole stepfather drinks!”

He swallows hard, then wets his lips with his tongue. “Do you need to go get her? Vortex can come pick me up.”

I call her again, and once more, it goes straight to voicemail.

“I don’t know,” I say seriously. “Even if I go, she might not comewith me. Scratch that; she definitely won’t come with me. She never does.”

I switch tactics and call the Step Asshole. He answers on the third ring. “What do you want?”

“Where are you?” I ask suspiciously. “If you’ve hurt her?—”

“What the fuck are you on about?” he interrupts. “I’m at work.”

That would be plausible, if I thought he kept regular work hours. I hang up on him and call the hardware store he works at. “Hi, can I speak to Mr. Marcus Shultz? I had some follow up questions about the window treatments he sold me the other day.”

The person at the other end answers, “Oh, sure. Let me see if I can track him down. I saw him a minute ago...”

I guess he was telling the truth about being at work. I hang up on the clerk and let out a frustrated sigh. Then I shout and punch the wall. My fist goes into the drywall, and the freshly painted wall crumbles around it.

Seven inhales sharply. “Havoc!” I hear him take a step closer to me, but he doesn’t touch me. “What’s going on? Is your stepdad…” He trails off. “If he’s hurting her, you should go get her.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I snap at Seven. “I have tried over and over to get her out of there, but she always refuses to come with me!”

---