Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(107)

I flash him a huge grin. “I love that movie too!”

“I’m telling you—you’re more alike than you realize.”

Matteo goes off, telling me stories about my father’s past. I memorize every single word.

While I didn’t get exactly what I wished for, I have the opportunity to learn about my father and who he was over the years he was alive. And to me, that’s better than never having the chance to begin with.





I leave Matteo’s house way later than expected. Silence greets me as I unlock the front door, opening it to find pure darkness.

I miss Santiago freaking me out the moment I walk through the front door.

I miss coming home to the smell of whatever he was cooking that day.

I miss him.

I miss him so damn much, I’m tempted to call him and break down.

But what if I forgive him, only to have the same thing happen again? Everything about our relationship was fake to the public. And what if the next time he lies, it’s about cheating or something way worse? How does he expect me to believe anything he says again?

But are you being fair? You went along with some of his lies in the first place. And he was trying to protect you in the end. I can count on two fingers how many other people have tried to do the same.

Maybe it’s time I acted like an adult and called him.

My stomach grumbles, forcing me to table my thoughts and head to the kitchen to attempt some kind of meal. If someone can count burnt charred remains as sustenance.

An embroidery circle takes up a spot in the middle of the counter. I rush toward it and pick it up.

My heart rate speeds up in my chest as I check out the most beautiful design I’ve ever seen. There’s no mistaking who made this. Santiago crafted a field of wildflowers, making up every color of the rainbow. It’s hands-down the best gift anyone has given me.

A wobbly looking quote takes up the top of the design.

Where most people see weeds, I only see you—my beautiful wildflower, untamed and free.

I flip over the embroidery circle to find a note taped on the back. His small yet elegant handwriting marks the page.

I called you a wildflower the moment you showed up at my house with a bouquet of them. That day, I asked myself what kind of person would go picking those crazy flowers in the first place. I thought they were just inconvenient weeds, but now I have my answer after all the time we spent together.

You might not realize it, but you’re a wildflower. You grow in the most unexpected places, no matter who tramples on you or ignores your beauty. You can grow in a field, or through a crack in the sidewalk, but the result will always be the same. No one can stop you from flourishing in a world set on ignoring you. You have a way of turning any situation, good or bad, into something magnificent.

You taught me that life is stunning in its rawest form. That anyone can find happiness in the most unlikely places if they look hard enough. That life is about searching for the light, even if it means growing through broken places to get there.

I don’t want to see the world through rose-colored glasses. I want to see it with a wildflower heart like yours, desperately chasing after what makes me happy, wild, and free. And most of all, I want to chase after it with you.

I love you, Chloe Carter. No matter the time, place, or circumstance, I’ll always love you because you’re my hidden beauty in a world of weeds.

I clutch onto the embroidery circle. Goddammit. Tears break free for the second time today, staining my cheeks.

I’ve never read something quite like that in my life. Especially not about me.

Definitely not about me.

Someone who writes something like that and creates a piece of art doesn’t just love me. Santiago is in love with me, and I finally realize the difference. It’s crazy, messy, beautifully imperfect. Everything comes at a cost and falling in love isn’t exclusive to the rule. But the negatives are worth the one positive—finding someone who isn’t just my lover, but the other half of my heart.

It doesn’t matter about Santiago’s lie at the end of the day. Of course it wasn’t right. But I’ve been looking at it wrong too. Intentions matter. I’ve been stupid to ignore that for days because of my hurt feelings.

My whole life has been filled with people whose aims were always in the bad place. The difference with Santiago is all his decisions were made with me in mind. Even if it wasn’t the right choice for me, it was the right choice to him, and I need to understand that. And most of all, growing up in a world of uncaring people shows me that it’s not okay to punish someone for caring too much.

I run out of the room to find my phone because I’m done holding back from him anymore. How can I when he writes me a poetic letter and makes me my own embroidered gift?

The sound of Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” playing outside has me halting at the front door.

“Shut the fuck up.”

No way.

There’s just no freaking way.

I pull at the handle, throwing the front door open.

I cover my mouth with my palm.

Oh yeah, there’s a fucking way.





47





Santiago





Chloe stares at me, wide-eyed and unmoving as her eyes bounce between my trench coat, the stereo above my head, and my face.