Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(54)

“Why are you sharing this with me?” That’s the best you can come up with? The girl is basically telling you she likes you, and you’re fucking it up. I’m an idiot. That’s the damn truth.

She laughs again, her smile banishing my thoughts. “I wanted to share the one thing that makes me vulnerable.”

“Why?”

“Because we all have weaknesses, Santiago. You believe yours is how you’re missing a leg, and I think mine is my crippling loneliness and preference for wishing instead of doing. I make wishes to combat the emptiness I feel from all the disappointments in my life. Wishes are the closest thing I have to magic.”

I want to tell her that the magic is within her, not some wishes scribbled in a journal. And I crave screwing over every person who has disappointed her and has threatened to destroy her happiness.

I say nothing, choosing to soak in her words. The hum of Chloe’s restorative energy fills me to the brim with something I can’t ignore anymore.

I want the real deal with her. The dates, the laughs, and the feeling she brings out of me time and time again.

She describes her loneliness as a weakness, but I only see it as a strength. While people like me shrivel away in the shadows, people like her create their own light. She’s like the moon who shines bright despite the never-ending darkness.

And she makes me want to wish that daylight never comes again.





24





Chloe





“Are you ready for our road trip?” I open the passenger door of Santiago’s G-Wagon. Thank God I have long legs because this SUV is a monster. I grab the hem of my boho skirt and use the step to hop inside the car.

“It’s less than two hours away. I drove in races longer than that.”

“Oh okay, Mr. I’m a famous racer, hear me brag. Are you forgetting I grew up in New York? I never went anywhere!”

Santiago gets into the driver’s seat and slides on a pair of Ray Bans. My eighties-obsessed heart sings at the sight. He’s a mix-up of every John Hughes’ character I love watching.

Please don’t get me started on his new look. I knew Santiago was sexy before, but I didn’t realize he was that sexy under his beard and long hair. Seriously, I don’t think I have enough self-control to make it through a car ride next to him, let alone a whole weekend.

Santiago starts the car. “Is this your first time traveling outside of America?”

“This is my first time out of New York. Period. I’ve never been anywhere else besides here and the four-hour layover in Portugal. So technically speaking, I’ve visited two other places now besides New York.”

“You can’t count a layover as visiting another country. That’s just sad.”

“No. It’s just the truth.” I cross my arms and look out the window. It’s not as if Santiago means to judge, but it comes off that way.

The air shifts between us as I remain quiet. I can spend two hours in silence as long as he doesn’t play jazz music. That’s a hard limit.

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry if what I said came out wrong. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Uh-oh.”

I shift in my seat, turning to face him. “What?”

“‘Fine’ is code for I’m not fine and if you ignore it, I’ll tell you just how not fine I am a few hours from now and you’ll wish you had asked more from the get-go.”

I snort. “What? Who told you such classified information?”

“I grew up with a sister. She taught me the basics by the time I was a teenager.”

“Okay, your comment bothered me a little bit—”

He raises a brow.

“Okay, a lot. But it’s not your fault. It just reminds me of everything I missed out on that others have experienced. Growing up the way I did left much to be desired for.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad because you haven’t traveled. Especially not because of your circumstance.”

“It’s okay. No big deal.” I smile.

He bites down on his bottom lip in a way that isn’t meant to be sexy but is hot enough to break a glass thermometer. “So... What did you used to enjoy doing in your free time besides working?”

Great. He’s trying to be polite and I’m here lusting after him. “Besides embroidering? I mean, I don’t exactly have much free time to begin with.”

“Tell me more about that then.”

I rear back in my chair in surprise, banging my head against the headrest like a dork. “What do you want to know?”

“For starters, how did you get into that kind of hobby?”

“Well, I used to have some anger issues.”

“I find that very hard to believe.” He attempts to keep a straight face but laughs anyway.

“It’s true.” I punch him in the arm for emphasis.

He only laughs harder.

“So my social worker took me to the hobby store one day after an incident.” I shiver at the reminder of the day I lost my mom, my home, and my last ounce of innocence. “She told me I could pick anything from the store, but I had to agree it would be my outlet for my emotions rather than anything physical.”