Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(12)

“Well remember how I told you I wanted to visit you soon?”

“No, you must’ve forgotten that tiny fun fact in all three times we have talked over the past two weeks.”

“Well, I do call, but you don’t answer.”

I wince at the hurt in her voice. It’s not like I try to ignore her calls, but some days I can’t force myself to move, let alone speak. My reasoning doesn’t ease the guilt growing in my gut.

She lets out a nervous laugh. “Well, I miss you and want to visit. It’s been a month since I saw you last.”

“That’s because you’re traveling with Noah while he races.” Try harder to be nice, you irritable idiot.

She sighs. “You know he plans on retiring in a season or two.”

“Great. He deserves it after all his success.” I try with everything in me to not sound bitter, but the words come out like that anyway. It’s not Noah’s fault. He worked his ass off, competing and winning against the youngest talent year after year. Unlike me.

“You’re not being fair to yourself.”

“Life isn’t fair. Just because we’ve protected you from that lesson doesn’t mean the rest of us survive unscathed.” Shit. My mouth keeps getting me in trouble today. Maya doesn’t deserve my bitterness, no matter how much life pains me at times. “Maya, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You know I would take on anything to make sure you were okay.”

She stays quiet for a few seconds before she sniffs.

Fuck. Not the sniffles. My chest tightens at upsetting the one person who means the most to me. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay. There are some lessons you can’t protect me from, no matter how much you want to.” Her voice cracks.

Something rumbles on the other side of the phone, and Maya protests before her voice fades away.

“If it isn’t the dickhead of the decade. How are you doing? Not that I should care after you upset Maya,” Noah snaps.

My life has become so fucked up that I’ve come to appreciate his dickishness toward me. It reminds me of how I’m very much still a grown-ass man. Anything is better than my parents who treat me like I’m made out of porcelain or Maya who hides stories about Noah and Marko because she doesn’t want to upset me.

“I would say good, but since I’m talking to you when you’re angry, I’ll go with regretful.”

He huffs. “Good idea. If you’re going to be a grumpy asshole, save it for everyone but your sister right now. Think you can manage such a small request?”

I grind my teeth. “Most definitely.”

“Good. I’ll save you the shock from our surprise since I know how much you love them. We will be at your house in an hour. Don’t make this an issue. We need your help, so strap on your fakest smile and drop the grumpy asshole routine for your sister.” Noah hangs up, leaving me slack-jawed and staring at my phone.

Shit.





My nephew, Marko, squeals as I throw him in the air. His dark hair flies around his face with the rush of air.

“Again! Again!” His blue eyes light up.

I carry him like an airplane, noises and all. Spending time with Marko is like chugging a glass of liquid sunshine. The little four-year-old takes away the darkness, and I love him more because of it.

“Look at that. The beast has a soft heart after all.” Noah smirks at me.

I switch Marko to one hand to flip Noah off.

Maya’s eyes widen. “No, Santiago! He copies everything.”

Marko looks at me with a wide smile, showing his tiny teeth. He attempts to flip me off with his index finger.

I chalk it up to coincidence. “You should protect him from your husband, then.”

“It took some work but I’ve kiddie-proofed Noah’s mouth.” Maya smiles.

“It’s forking hard, but I try my best for you.” Noah grins before placing a soft kiss on Maya’s head.

I sit down on the couch and place Marko on my knee. My sweatpants hide my leg, but that doesn’t stop him from lifting the hem and checking out the matte metal.

My body tenses. I try my best to cover up my leg when I’m around others. The visual reminder sours the mood, so unless I need to, I hide that nasty fucker. It’s taken years to perfect my walk and conceal any kind of limp.

I’m not ashamed of my leg.

I’m ashamed of my life.

“Tio Santi is Iron Man.” He taps the leg, looking up at me with the cutest smile ever.

The constricting feeling in my chest lessens at his innocence. See, liquid sunshine.

Marko is the only one I’d ever let call me Iron Man. With my nephew, it’s as if I’m his hero, rather than the washed-up has-been the media makes me out to be. It feels good to be the hero in someone else’s story, even if it’s only for a few hours. And because of that, the little kid has me tied around his pinky finger.

Maya plucks Marko’s hand away from my leg and lowers the fabric of my sweatpants. “Marko, what did I say about touching other people without asking?”

He tucks his chin into his chest. “No touching.”

Maya shoots me a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry. I told him not to call you Iron Man anymore, but he must have forgo—”