Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

Oh, yeah. I’m absolutely, positively fucked.

Chloe slides into bed after her shower. The darkness hides her face from me, but her hesitant movements have me raising a brow.

“Good night,” she mumbles under her breath. The sheets rustle as she hugs the edge of the bed.

“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.