Page 41 of Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

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.

“Uhm. I’m going to sit on the living room couch for an hour just in case you need me.” I move to make my exit.

“No,” Marko whines.

I struggle to resist. Damn kids with their tiny frowns and sad eyes. How can anyone ever say no to them?

“Do you mind?” I look over at Santiago.

Please mind. Say this is a bad idea and let’s call it a night.

He shakes his head.

Bastard.

I grumble to myself as I tug at the laces of my sneakers and rip them off. Climbing into Santiago’s bed is nothing short of an experience. The mattress is made of a foam voodoo, and I sigh as my body sinks into the cushion.

Santiago is going to have to hire a crane to lift me out because I’m never leaving this bed.

Marko snuggles into my side and places his head on my chest. “Mommy holded me like this.” He plucks my hand and places it on his back. “Tio. You too.” He does the same patting of the bed that sucked me in.

Santiago stares at me and visibly swallows.

I grin. How do you like it now, traitor?

His hands clenc

h in front of him, forming two tight balls.

“Tio,” Marko speaks louder, his voice croaking.

Santiago drops his head, letting out the longest breath.

“It’s fine. This bed is big enough to fit a whole family,” I offer, hoping to ease his discomfort.

He climbs onto the bed and turns his back toward us. Distinct clicking sounds break the silence as he works to remove the straps of his iWalk. He places his sock covering on the nightstand with a shaky hand.

My heart aches at his distress. I want to say something to make him feel better, but I’m not sure how he will react.

Santiago’s muscles strain as he gets situated under the covers. I keep my eyes focused on his face to offer him some privacy, but not enough that he thinks I’m turned off by him. I refuse to go down that path again because I won’t survive kissing him again. The only one we had is forever ingrained in my memory, with my lips tingling at the idea.

Marko grabs my hand and links it with Santiago’s. An electric feeling spreads across my skin from the contact. Santiago flexes his hand before tightening his grip on mine. Does he feel the same kind of connection between us? How can he not? It’s like sparks shooting off our skin whenever we touch.

“All better. Like Mommy and Daddy when I is scared.” Marko pats our united hands.

I crack a smile at Marko trying to recreate what makes him comfortable.

It doesn’t take long for Marko to fall asleep on me. He eventually lets out soft snores as he breathes in and out.