Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(31)

“My sister would freak out and rush back here. If you have another idea, I’m all for it.” Santiago’s voice hits a new level of panicky.

“Okay, it’s fine. Relax. Let’s see what happens over the next hour. We should move him to your bed so you can keep an eye on him.” I step out of the way to give Santiago room to grab Marko. Each step he makes is followed by a heavy thud.

I check out the hardware attached to his leg. I’ve never seen anything like it before. His right leg is strapped into some kind of device where he can kneel on a pad attached to a stabilized pole. His knee and stump lie comfortably on the padding, covered by some kind of protective sock.

Marko crawls into Santiago’s waiting arms.

I sneak another peek at the special kind of walking crutch. “Do you want me to carry him instead?”

His back tenses.

Way to go saying the wrong thing.

His back rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Don’t start treating me like I’m different now,” he whispers.

My body locks up at the broken rasp in his voice. Even after he lied to me, my heart aches for him in a way I’ve never felt before. He makes it impossible to stay mad at him. Not with him looking defeated, plagued by whatever thoughts eat away at him.

“I carry him like this every night after he falls asleep in my bed. It’s not a big deal.” He turns toward the door, not bothering to look at me.

How can I make the sadness in his voice disappear?

Think, Chloe, think.

“No one should look as good as you do while carrying a kid. You’re a risk to women’s ovaries exploding all across the world,” I call out as I imagine a swarm of brunette face-palm emojis floating around my head.

What can I say? There’s no better way to break the awkwardness than to compliment a man. Their egos are like starved plants in need of sunshine.

I catch his smirk before he turns out of the room. Boom. Achievement unlocked.

I’m not lying either. Watching Santiago carry Marko is the ultimate eye candy. Forget abs and corded arms. After this display, I’m all about men cradling little kids and kissing their foreheads. Santiago officially made the top of my sexy list.

Okay, who am I kidding? He is the list.

I follow behind the two of them, fascinated by the way Santiago moves on his device. Santiago walks slower, with the sound of the stabilizer echoing off the walls of his house. He still remains agile with the crutch-like device, clearly comfortable in his environment. To be honest, he’s more graceful than me, and I have both legs firmly planted on the ground.

He stops walking. “I can practically feel your eyes on me.”

“Sorry. I’m too curious for my own good.” I blush. I’m grateful to be standing behind him because the last thing I need is to show him how flustered I am.

“Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“What do you call it?”

“An iWalk. It’s what I like to wear when I don’t want to go through the hassle and discomfort of the leg.” He continues walking.

Something tells me the simple admission about his pain and discomfort took a lot out of him. It’s the first time he’s addressed his disability to me in a matter-of-fact way rather than something to be ashamed of. I find myself wanting to encourage more of that out of him.

Ugh. He’s right. I’m too curious and I’m bound to get hurt by it.

I cover up my surprise. “It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Marko is right. You are Iron Man.”

Santiago’s back shakes from silent laughter. “You should check out my other gadgets and gizmos.”

“I don’t know if that’s an innuendo for something not PG rated.”

Santiago grumbles something I can’t hear before speaking louder. “You don’t want anything but PG from me.” He enters his bedroom, leaving me in the hall.

I take a moment to catch my breath. Why is this man so infuriating? And worse, why do I care about changing the way he perceives himself? He lied, Chloe. You’re only here to help Marko, not learn more about his uncle.

This is how I get in trouble every single time. I think I can fix damaged people when they end up like my mom—disappointing and chronically allergic to stability.

I walk inside his bedroom. The light from the full moon beams through a large window, guiding our movements. Santiago carries Marko to the bathroom and helps him brush his teeth.

The aesthetic of the room fits the owner, with dark colors and few mementos. His space lacks anything to help me understand the man who lives here. It’s honestly rather sad. I find Santiago’s room nothing like my bedroom at home that bursts with everything I love in the world. Growing up in a foster home made me appreciate every inch of space, making every place I live in a home.

A masculine four-poster bed dominates the middle of the room with its huge mattress. I resist the temptation to jump on it and test the springs.

“Sleepover?” Marko mumbles, his eyes drooping.

“You’re sleeping with me tonight.” Santiago helps him get settled into the middle of the bed, the dark covers swallowing him.

“Chloe. Stay.” Marko pats the bed next to him.

My eyes snap from the bed to Santiago. He doesn’t bother looking at me, instead choosing to focus on his hands. Thanks for nothing.