Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(28)

I can’t tear my eyes away from Chloe licking the chocolate gelato off her spoon.

Why did I think inviting Chloe to this was a good idea? My body is out of control, reacting to anything and everything Chloe does. I shouldn’t find licking a spoon erotic. Clearly, I’ve stooped to new lows during my time in isolation. Lows that include one visit already to the bathroom for me to readjust myself.

It’s not like I’m bringing women back to my house to fuck me. The last time that happened was over a year ago, and the woman only had sex with me out of pity. I could tell by the look in her eyes after I stripped out of my jeans. Rather than remove my leg to be comfortable, I kept it on and went along with the act anyway. The hopeful part of me believed it would make me feel better about myself if I was sexual with someone. It didn’t. I never bothered again after that occasion because I felt worse than I ever have in the bedroom.

By now, I’m practically a born-again virgin. So, yeah, watching Chloe lick her spoon is like viewing live porn for me at this point. Sad but fucking true based on how my dick threatens war against the zipper of my jeans.

Chloe pushes her cup of gelato away, and my cock weeps.

“Well, that was so good. Thank you.” She looks over at me before turning her attention toward Marko. “I loved seeing you again.”

“Will you come tomorrow on the boat?” He bats his lashes in a way I recognize as something Maya did as a kid.

“Oh. I have things to do.”

“What things?” I blurt out.

“Um…work.”

“Where do you work?”

“The coffee shop next to the bakery on the main road.” Her eyes fall to her lap.

“We swim tomorrow. You can come!” Marko demands.

It’s a sad moment to realize my nephew has more pull with women than me and he’s only four. No doubt he will be a real charmer when he’s older.

Chloe’s head snaps up, her eyes searching mine for help.

I shrug. “Saying no to him is exhausting.” Right. “What time do you get out of work?”

“I’m done at noon.”

“Does one o’clock sound good, then?”

“Sure.” Her voice sounds anything but sure, but her face remains calm.

I ask for her phone number, just in case anything comes up. She rattles off the digits before leaving the two of us behind.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. You’ve got your dad’s skills for getting what you want.” I offer him my hand to smack.

“Hell forking yes.” He shoots me a huge smile and slaps my palm.





Hindsight truly is twenty-twenty. Inviting Chloe swimming was a bad idea. The thought kept me up way too late last night after Marko went to bed.

I’ve officially voted my nephew the worst wingman ever. Neither one of us can recognize when our ideas suck, and that’s a deadly combo.

Like an asshole, I text Chloe while she’s at work about postponing our plans because Marko came down with a nasty cold. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I’m fresh out of ideas. This is the last thing I want to do but I have to. I can’t bear her seeing the real me without any pants or barriers hiding my leg.

No amount of counseling or physical therapy I’ve completed makes the feeling of inadequacy go away. I can’t do it, no matter how much I want to spend time with Chloe.

My stomach sinks as Chloe texts me back.

Chloe the Criminal: Oh no :( Poor guy. What’s he feeling?





Yeah, Santiago, what is he feeling? One look at Marko jumping across couches yelling something about not touching lava makes my chest tighten.

Me: Sore throat and the sniffles.





And a case of bullshit inherited by yours truly.

Chloe the Criminal: No worries. I hope he gets well soon. Maybe we can go another time when he’s feeling better.





I can’t find it in me to respond.

Marko asks me to take him for a walk by the lake. We spend an hour trying to skip rocks across the water. He claps and does a victory dance when one of his rocks skips across the flat water. It reminds me of Noah and me winning on podiums together, chugging champagne to blasting music.

The memory has my body tensing before I can push it away. I do my best to keep those hidden away but spending time with Marko brings back the oldest ones.

Marko’s voice snaps me out of my daze. “What’s that?”

“What?”

He runs up to a paper bag laying on the ground about twenty feet away.

My mood goes from bad to worse as I walk up to it. I analyze the contents, finding different kid’s medicines and a Tupperware of hot soup. The get-well package lacks a message, but it’s obvious who would bother showing up with one.

Guilt hits me, with my stomach tightening to the point of unease. I tug my phone out of my pants to find a new message.

Chloe the Criminal: Glad to see Marko’s feeling better. Thank God being a lying dick isn’t contagious.





My palms shake as I think up a way to explain myself. To make her understand why I made the decision I did because of my insecurity with myself, not her. I type out my first message, wanting to send something, and buy myself a second to think.