Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(57)

“If you fall asleep like that, you’ll end up on the floor.”

“Better than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

She scoots closer to the middle of the bed, abandoning the edge. Her hands fumble in the dark, creating a pillow barrier.

The sight of it has me chuckling up to the ceiling.

She sighs.

“Is this the moment you admit to me that you like watching people sleep?”

“No!” She cackles.

“A secret toe fetish?”

“Oh my God. Stop!” Her giggles grow louder.

“Oh, I know. You snore!”

Her body thrashes as her laughs bounce off the ceiling. “I’ve been labeled a stage ten cuddler.”

My interest is doused by a surge of jealousy that catches me by surprise. “By who?” I attempt with everything in me to keep my voice flat.

“Brooke. Supposedly I almost suffocated her in her sleep when we had to share a bed a couple of times. She said I wrapped myself around her like a wet blanket.”

“Is that supposed to be a con?”

“That and a red flag.”

“Well, when it comes to you, consider me colorblind.”

She lets out the most obnoxious laugh that has me grinning. “You’re supposed to run for the hills.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, uncontrolled and unexpected. “You’re strange if you think that’s the case.”

“Well, I didn’t claim I wasn’t weird.”

I point at the poor attempt of a pillow barrier. “You’re also stubborn.”

“I prefer the more positive synonym of tenacious.”

“Okay, Merriam Webster.”

“You’re going to call me another woman in bed? You really are the worst fake boyfriend.” She fake gasps.

I let out a throaty laugh. Something about Chloe makes everything lighter. Better. Happier. I’m tempted to keep poking fun at her just to hear what ridiculousness she spews next.

With each joke between us, her laughs because more unrestrained.

It hits me that playing guitar isn’t the only music that feeds my soul anymore. Chloe’s laughs are the sweetest melody, a harmony of sounds that can’t be recreated by any strings or notes. They fill me with a warmth, banishing the darkness that grew and festered over the years after my accident.





I wake up to a heavy weight against my chest. What’s that?

I open my eyes, blinking away the blurriness to find a mass of black hair against my chest.

Right. Chloe. Shared bed. A failed pillow barrier.

When Chloe called herself a cuddler, she was not kidding. She molds herself to the left side of my body. One of her legs is thrown over my lower half, uncomfortably pressing against my growing erection. Her hand is splayed on top of my chest and her hair is a mass of tangles trailing down her back, tickling my skin.

She smells like daisies and sunshine, and I’m growing addicted to the scent.

I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I can’t have her seeing me without my prosthetic. I’m just not ready for that yet. For a few minutes, I enjoy her presence. Intimacy with her is something I’ve come to appreciate after living many years without it.

Chloe doesn’t even stir as I pull myself from underneath her. She sleeps like the dead and looks good doing it.

Not wanting her to wake up and find me in this position, I move quickly through the motions of putting on my leg. I glance over my shoulder halfway through the process. She replaced me with a pillow, and I instantly regret getting out a bed.

I look back down at my leg. One day I’ll feel comfortable enough to share this part of me with someone else. But today is definitely not the day.





26





Santiago





“Chloe, are you sure that you’re okay with being filmed for my vlog?” Maya looks over at Chloe with her camera clutched in her palm. Ever since I stepped on the empty racetrack, my skin has been clammy and my heart has been beating at a rapid pace.

Bandini employees work in the pit lane. The crew secures spare tires and checks on car parts after Noah’s earlier practice rounds. If I close my eyes, I can imagine the noises and smells of a race day. Besides the occasional crew member looking up at us, everyone keeps to themselves. I didn’t realize how much I missed the energetic buzz of the pit on a race weekend. It’s become a distant memory after all these years.

“Sure! How hard can a race be?” Chloe checks out the sleek Bandini sports car.

A race?!

“Against Maya? Don’t let her fool you. She knows her way around a car better than half the crew.” Noah wraps an arm around Maya’s waist.

I tuck my hand in the back pocket of her shorts and pull her flush against my side. “Since when did you plan a race?” I whisper in her ear.

“Since your sister texted me this morning asking if I would do a vlog with her. She is very persuasive and I had a hard time saying no.”

“How did you even get each other’s num—” I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. You can’t drive.”

“Why?” She shakes her head in a sassy way.

I’d find it endearing under any other circumstance. Now, her defiance annoys me.