Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4)

by Lauren Asher

  “What’s that?” I point.

  “I’m about to share a little magic with you.”

  That’s all she has done up until this point. It’s as if she sprinkles pixie dust wherever she goes, turning my life into something worth getting out of bed for. And most of all, turning me into someone that feels worthy of loving not only someone else, but also myself.

  Chloe motions for me to sit in my chair. I follow her lead out of curiosity, and she pulls up another seat next to me.

  She opens her journal to a blank page. “I want us to make a wish.”

  “This is your wish journal?”

  She bites her lip and nods.

  “You’re sharing your wish journal with me?” My voice sounds as incredulous as I feel. “Why?”

  “I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘thank you.’” She bumps her shoulder into mine.

  “I’m surprised.”

  “It’s no big deal. Really.” She rolls her eyes.

  I look over at her with a raised brow.

  “Okay, it’s a slightly big deal.” She pinches her fingers together, leaving a centimeter gap.

  “You’re going to let me steal a wish?”

  “Stealing means you’re taking without asking. In reality, I’m giving away one for free.”

  “Why?”

  Chloe loves this journal, and I want to push her to realize why this is a big deal to her. To realize she cares more than basic infatuation or lust or friendship. I’m desperate for her to realize she loves me. Her actions scream it, yet the words never make it past her lips. I never thought I would crave this kind of affection from someone who does not give it willingly. But damn if it hasn’t made Chloe all that more interesting, making me work for it.

  Chloe runs a finger across the yellowed page. “I care a lot about you.”

  Okay…that’s something at least.

  She continues. “And you deserve to have your biggest wish granted.” She grabs her pen and writes something across the page.

  I wish that the Formula Corp lets Santiago Alatorre race again.

  “Now it’s settled. Obviously you’re going to drive with Bandini next year. This journal doesn’t fool around. I can promise you that.”

  “Can I write something too?” I blurt out.

  Her lips form an O. She pauses before nodding and handing me the pen. I move to write on the page, but her hand covers mine.

  “Wait.” She flips the page to a blank one.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “New page, new wish. I don’t make the rules.”

  I laugh to myself as I write down my wish. The one I’ve been thinking about for quite a while now.

  I wish that Chloe Carter falls in love with someone worthy of her eighties-loving heart. That she finds that soul-crushing, heart-mending, passion-fueled love. A love that leaves her desperate for more because nothing that amazing should ever be done in moderation. The same love I found with her.

  I drop the pen, and it rolls into the middle of the notebook.

  Chloe looks down at the page, remaining silent.

  “When you’re quiet, it’s never a good thing.” I nudge her shoulder.

  “That’s your wish?”

  “I wrote it, didn’t I?”

  She pinches my side, right in the spot that makes me wince. “Asshole.”

  “Aw, from you, I’ll take it as a term of endearment.”

  She shakes her head. “You made a mistake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her eyes slide from the journal to my face. The color of her irises looks more vibrant than ever, the blue flecks shifting from sapphire to aqua.

  My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for her response.

  “You can’t wish for something I already have.”

  I never thought one sentence could carry this much meaning. It’s like Chloe set off a serotonin bomb in my brain.

  She smiles wider at whatever look I have on my face. “I love you. I’m so in love with you. The kind of love that does leave me desperate in a way that makes me think I’m going crazy.”

  I stand and pull her into me, landing a soft kiss against her lips. “Say it again.”

  “I love you, Santiago Alatorre.”

  “I’ll never get used to you saying it.”

  Her smile drops a fraction. “I don’t know whether to be afraid or happy.”

  “Stick with happy. Always happy.”

  “I am, but I also can’t help being afraid,” she whispers.

  “Why?”

  “Because there are two kinds of loves out there.”

  “Which are?”

  “The love that flourishes and the love that kills.”

  Something inside me withers away at her words, forcing reality to crash back down around me. It erases the elation I felt from Chloe’s admission of her love.

  I desperately want to have the first kind of love with Chloe, but I can’t help worrying about the latter. Not because I would intentionally hurt her. There is only one thing threatening whatever we have built with each other. And secrets have a way of destroying the loveliest things, and I wonder if mine is the most deadly of all.

  43

  Chloe

  Something about Matteo is off today. I can’t put my finger on it, but he barely looks at me. It’s as if he’s not really here, even though I sit on the couch across from him. It was weird at first when he lacked any kind of enthusiasm as I showed him photos of me growing up. The notion stung, but I chalked it up to him not feeling well. But now, he doesn’t even smile when he talks about Giovanni. And I know how much he loves Giovanni.

  “Are you okay?” I fidget with my hands.

  He shakes his head as if it can make whatever he is thinking about disappear. “No.”

  I freeze. “What’s wrong?”

  He sighs. His gaze penetrates me and pins me to my seat. “I have something to tell you.”

  Oh, God. This can’t be good. The last time someone had something to tell me, I ended up in the back of a cop car because of Ralph.

  “Yes?” I breathlessly whisper.

  “I haven’t been fully honest with you.”

  “What do you mean?” I somehow get the words out despite the tightness in my throat. Every muscle in my body locks up, and I find it difficult to breathe easily.

  Matteo doesn’t answer me. Instead, he lets out a sob as he breaks down. His body shakes as he hunches over and shields his face from me.

  What the hell? With wobbly legs and a racing heart, I move to sit beside him on the couch and wrap my arm around his shoulder. I can’t stand by and watch him lose it without offering some kind of support.

  “What’s the matter? You’re scaring me.”

  He sniffles. “I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. I didn’t want to tell you, but Santiago told me it’s the right thing, and he’s probably right. But I still don’t know how to do this, so give me a second.”

  “Santiago?” I hiss.

  Something ugly and dark bubbles within me, begging to be let out. What is happening, and what the hell has Santiago been hiding from me?

  Matteo nods, wiping away a stray tear.

  “Are you talking about another Santiago by chance?”

  He shakes his head from side to side.

  My stomach churns, and acid crawls up my throat. I swallow it back.

  I don’t know what to ask about first. Why would Matteo and Santiago talk in the first place? What is upsetting Matteo enough to the point that he would cry?

  Matteo doesn’t give me a choice in the matter. He steamrolls on, clearly gaining some kind of courage after his outburst. “Chloe, it kills me to do this to you. Shit, it kills me to have lied to you in the first place.”

  My body feels like all the warmth was sucked out of me, replacing blood with icy water. “What do you mean by you lied?”

  “There’s no easy way to tell you this, but...God. I’m not your father, Chloe.”

  I laugh in a
way that says I’m everything but mentally okay. Are we seriously going through this cycle again? With Matteo, it’s as if I take two steps forward before running a mile backward. “Yes, you are.”

  He moves away from me, giving him enough space to stare me straight in the eyes. “No. My identical twin brother was your father. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re actually my niece. I can’t be your dad. I swear on my son’s and my lives.”

  I might not have a college degree, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand twin genetics and DNA.

  Like a dam bursting, tears spring free from my eyes, coating my lashes. “How can you be sure?” Please, don’t be sure. I can’t handle this level of deception.

  The irony is not lost on me. I prefer the lie to the truth any day right now.

  “I have only been with a handful of women in my life, and none of them were from America. I was faithful to my ex-wife—well girlfriend at the time. But my brother…he was different. Riskier.” His voice cracks. “My brother would have loved you. You remind me of him with your humor and your smile. He even got the same look as you in his eyes when he had an idea or got overly excited.”

  Matteo continues to talk, but I struggle to process anything he says. Nothing matters except for that fact that he speaks about his brother in the past tense.

  “Why are you talking about him like he’s dead?”

  Matteo looks down at his lap. “He passed away the summer after you were born.”

  The few tears I shed earlier become a waterfall, trickling down my face before landing on my lap. I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. After all these years waiting and wishing... After Matteo pretended to be my father and told me stories. None of it matters. This whole damn trip was pointless. My father isn’t even here, let alone alive.

  God, how does my life continue to get worse as the years go by? I don’t bother brushing away my tears. They fall in a continuous stream down my face, disappearing into the fabric of my custom embroidered jeans.

  My father really is dead. Gone before I ever had a chance to meet him. My lungs burn as I inhale deep breaths, trying to ease the ache building inside of my chest.

  “Say something. Please,” Matteo’s voice rasps.

  “What do you want me to say? You lied.”

  Fuck, it hurts. And worse, I should’ve expected it. Instead, I let my guard down around the one person I expected to be there for me.

  I let out a shrill laugh. Of course he let me down. It’s as if I’m cursed, forever stuck surrounding myself with people who have no intention of building me up.

  He winces. “I never wanted to lie to you. But I didn’t know how to tell you the truth once I learned more about you. You have been through too many tragedies in your short life, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

  “Nothing is more tragic or cruel than feeling like I gained a father only to lose him in the same week,” I snap.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t make it okay.”

  He nods his head. “You’re right. I want to make it up to you.”

  I stand, unable to bear more of this conversation. I need time to process. To cry. To wrap my head around the fact that my father is dead. “You said Santiago told you that you needed to tell me the truth because it was the right thing. What did you mean by that?”

  Matteo nods like a guilty bobblehead.

  The thought of Santiago going along with this scheme for days makes me ill. “He knows about your true identity?”

  More bobbing.

  I want to scream. I want to throw up. I want to launch something fragile across the room and watch it shatter into a million pieces like my heart in my chest.

  “He also willingly kept this from me?” I say the words more to myself than Matteo. My heart doesn’t want to believe the words, but deep down, I know the truth.

  How can Santiago tell me he loves me one minute and lie to me the next? That’s not love, that’s deception.

  “Listen, he wanted me to tell you the instant he found out, but I told him to hold off until I coul—”

  I raise my hand, halting Matteo’s words. “You both were wrong. I don’t care what excuse you want to come up with for him. Withholding information is a prettier kind of lie meant to make the liars feel better about their actions.”

  “He never wanted to lie.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” I exit the room, leaving a gobsmacked Matteo behind.

  I open the front door and step onto the driveway. Tears continue to fall, and I brush them away with shaky fingers.

  “Wait. Chloe! Wait!” Matteo calls out from behind. “Please, just please give me a chance to explain everything better. When you’re calm, that is.”

  All I can do is nod my head. I want more answers, no matter how painful they are. It might not be easy but I need closure about my father, and that will never happen if I run away. But I can’t deal with Matteo for the rest of today. If I do, I might break into a thousand pieces, and I’m not ready for that kind of devastating experience.

  Heartbreak is better dealt with in private, away from those who made it happen in the first place.

  44

  Chloe

  I’m on a warpath by the time I get back to Santiago’s house. My tears have dried on my cheeks, leaving behind streaks in my blush. Santiago isn’t in the doorway when I return. I’m somewhat grateful because it gives me the ability to think over what he did.

  I step into my bedroom and leave the door open, not caring if Santiago walks inside.

  It doesn’t take him long to find me. I’d pity him for the shitstorm he entered, but he is the cause of it after all.

  “What’s going on?” His eyebrows draw together as he assesses my luggage on the bed.

  “I’m leaving.” My voice is wooden.

  The thump of his iWalk fills the silence. “What? Why?”

  I shrug before throwing my clothes into my luggage, not caring how they land as long as they make it in there. I’m desperate to make this process as painless for me as possible. I’m no coward in the face of pain, but even I have my limits. And this man right here is the ultimate test of them.

  “Matteo told me about my dad.” I throw a pair of sneakers with a little extra oomph into my luggage, and they smack against my clothes.

  “What do you mean? Look at me.” Santiago presses a tentative hand on my shoulder.

  I wince at his touch, and he drops his hand. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. He told me everything, including how you knew for days about my real father and didn’t tell me. If there is one thing I ask of you during this conversation, it’s to not pretend anymore. I think I’ve had enough of your lies to last me a lifetime.” My hoarse voice cracks. I blink back the tears threatening to leak out of my eyes.

  I might have cried with Matteo, but I refuse to cry in front of Santiago. He is the last person who deserves my tears, especially when he’s the reason for them in the first place.

  “Chloe, please listen to me. I didn’t lie to you.”

  I spin on my feet. “To me, withholding the truth is the same thing as lying; it doesn’t matter how you want to validate it in your head. You knew Matteo’s true identity and you said nothing. You let me go about my days like nothing happened. And worse, you let me believe my dad was really alive, and that’s just cruel.”

  He recoils. “I didn’t want to. I told him to tell the truth and he didn’t listen. You have to believe me. When you went to his house for the first time, he was supposed to tell you. That was the plan.”

  Everything clicks together. “You knew. That’s why you wanted to come with me.”

  He nods, becoming visibly uncomfortable as my scowl deepens.

  “And that’s why you pounced on me when I got back. And asked me a hundred questions. You knew, even then.”

  He lets out a deep breath. “Yes.”

  I place a hand on the bed, needing the stability. “And what did you do when yo
u realized he didn’t tell me the truth?”

  “I went over there and told him that he had no choice but to tell you the real story. That you have the right to know that your dad passed away. The man wanted to pretend he was your father permanently for fuck’s sake. Without me, who knows what he would’ve done. I was only doing what I thought was the best choice to make sure you heard it from the right person.”

  “You should’ve told me the moment you found out. I thought we were close. That we got one another.” My voice breaks, matching the feeling inside of me. Everything hurts as I manage my thoughts.

  “Of course we are close. I love you. There’s nothing closer than that.” He takes a step toward me.

  I take one back, hitting the nightstand with my butt. “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have pretended to my face that Matteo was my dad. I told you stories about him. We laughed about the craziness he shared with me. How did you sit there and act like you didn’t know all this time?”

  He throws his hands in the air. “I was trying to protect you! I thought it would be better to hear it from him rather than me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was afraid to hurt you. I knew it would destroy you to learn about your dad from me.”

  “Well, it turns out your choice hurt me a hell of a lot more.”

  “Please, just give me a chance to explain my reasoning.”

  I shake my head. “No. I can’t do this right now. I need space.”

  “You told me you wouldn’t leave me.”

  “That was before I found out you could lie straight to my face and not even flinch while doing it. I feel like a fool for trusting you. Do you even know how hard that is for someone like me? Or how painful it is to admit I love someone? But I should’ve expected this. You grew up surrounded by love while I grew up being manipulated by it.”

  He starts to speak, but I cut him off. “I can’t stay here anymore.”

  “You’re going back to America?” Panic floods his voice.

  “No. Not yet. I need to speak to Matteo more and learn about my dad.”

  He flinches.

  Yeah, asshole, I’m not staying here because of you. “But just because I’m staying doesn’t mean I want to live here after knowing what you did.”