Farrah Rochon - A Forever Kind of Love

He had been a selfish, inconsiderate fool who deserved every dirty look Mya threw his way, even fifteen years later.

Corey had considered keeping his distance after the funeral. With half the town in attendance, it would have been easy to convince himself that there wasn’t an opportunity for any one-on-one time with her. But when had he ever chosen to take the easy path where Mya was concerned?

After that kiss, as innocent as it had been, Corey was happy he’d decided to seek her out. He rubbed his cheek, still experiencing the lingering effects of her soft lips on his skin. Despite how things had ended between them all those years ago, Mya Dubois could still affect him like no other woman could.

Chapter 2

A thick slice of sun slashed across the bed, warming her face and forcing one eye to open.

“Curtains, Gram. Curtains that close would be a nice touch,” Mya murmured into the pillow. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Someone had tried to paint over the brown water stain left from when the air-conditioning ducts had backed up, but Mya could still make out the faint edges. The stain had always reminded her of a bunny rabbit playing in the grass.

Mya reached for her eyeglasses from the nightstand. After sliding her feet into a pair of flip-flops, she didn’t bother to throw a robe on over her boy shorts and tank top. Now that Granddad was gone, there were only women in the house.

The aroma of sweet chicory coffee greeted her as she stepped into the hallway, along with the voices of her grandmother, Aunt Mo and her mother. Of course, Elizabeth was the loudest. Mya rushed through her morning bathroom routine and then headed straight for the liquid caffeine.

“Good morning,” she said as she entered the kitchen.

Aunt Mo was at the stove, stirring a pot of what looked like grits. Grandma and Elizabeth sat at the table. Her mother was dressed to the nines. Mya spotted a Christian Dior suitcase and a round hatbox just to the right of the door, and she nearly whooped with glee. She was more than ready to see Elizabeth board a plane back to San Francisco or Seattle or wherever it was she was living these days. Mya had stopped keeping track.

“You want breakfast?” Aunt Mo asked.

“No, thanks. The coffee’s enough for me.”

“You need more than just coffee,” her grandmother chastised.

“It’s better if she skips breakfast,” Elizabeth chimed in. “You don’t want to get fat. Right, baby?”

Deep breaths, Mya told herself. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

She grabbed a mug from the wooden mug tree and filled the cup almost to the brim. “Any sweetener?” she asked her aunt.

“I ran out of artificial sweetener last week,” Grandma said.

“Have you been eating sugar again?” Aunt Mo asked.

“Don’t start with me, Maureen.”

Her aunt plunked her free hand on her hip as the other continued to stir the grits. “That woman is too hardheaded for me.”

Mya winked at her grandmother as she walked past the table on her way to the smaller porch just off the kitchen. The morning was too pretty to take her coffee anywhere but outside. She sat on the wooden porch step and sipped her coffee, closing her eyes in pure ecstasy as the hot liquid slid down her throat.

“Thank God for coffee.” She sighed.

A motorized roar jolted Mya out of her relaxed, caffeine-induced bliss. She looked up to find Corey dressed in knee-length deck shorts—the kind with a dozen zippered pockets all over them—and a green T-shirt. He was pushing a lawn mower across the side lawn. He lifted his hand in a short wave, turned a tight corner with the lawn mower and headed back up toward the front yard.

“What the hell?” Mya muttered. She placed her coffee cup on the step and stomped across the yard.

“Corey!” she yelled.

He ignored her.

No, he hadn’t ignored her. Mya spotted the thin, white wires coming from his ears. She caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. The lawn mower sputtered to a stop as Corey let go of the handle. He turned, pulling the tiny speakers from his ears.

“Good morning,” he said.

“What are you doing here?”

“That question rhetorical?” he asked, motioning to the lawn mower. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be on a plane by now.”

“I fly out this afternoon,” Mya answered. “Now answer my question. What are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “It’s Saturday. I always cut your grandmother’s grass every other Saturday.”

Wait. What?

He folded his arms over his green Gauthier High School Fighting Lions T-shirt and things started to click into place.

“You live here?” she asked. “In Gauthier?”

He nodded, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Those eyes drifted a few degrees south and his smile widened. That’s when Mya remembered she was standing in the middle of the yard in boy shorts, a thin tank top and no bra. She crossed her arms over her breasts.

“When did you move back to Gauthier?” she asked.

Another shrug. “Last year.”

“Why?” She couldn’t keep the incredulousness from her voice. He’d retired from professional baseball a few years ago, but Mya knew Corey was still worth millions. Why would he choose to live in a small town like Gauthier when he could live anywhere he wanted to?

“It’s home,” he answered.

Before she could respond, a screech from inside the house stopped her.

“Mya!”

The panic in Aunt Mo’s scream caused instant fear to race down Mya’s spine. Corey had already taken off in a dead run for the house. She shook off her shock and followed, losing a flip-flop along the way.

Mya’s stomach bottomed out at the sight in the kitchen.

Her grandmother was slumped over in the chair, her mouth hanging open. Aunt Maureen had hooked her arms under Grandma’s, trying to lift her up. Corey was crouched on the floor in front of her, tapping on her cheek. Elizabeth was off to the side, wringing her hands and screaming uncontrollably.

“Would you shut up!” Mya yelled at her mother. She held her grandmother’s wrist to check for a pulse, enjoying a moment’s relief after finding one.

“She has these fainting spells, but never like this,” Aunt Mo said.

Mya leaned in. “Grandma, can you hear me?” The sickly sweet smell hovering in front of her grandmother’s face was all the answer Mya needed. “I don’t think this is a fainting spell. Mama, call 911.”

“What? Why?” Elizabeth cried.

Mya ran over to where her mother stood and pushed her aside so she could get to the phone mounted on the wall.

“I have a seventy-two-year-old female with diabetes,” she told the 911 operator. “She passed out and isn’t responding and her breath has a fruity smell.”

Mya rattled off the address. She hung up and ran back to the table, prying her Aunt Maureen from her grandmother. “Aunt Mo, get all of her medications. We’ll need to bring them to the hospital.” Mya took her place, slipping her arms underneath her grandmother’s armpits and holding her upright. She looked down at Corey who was still trying to get her to wake up.

He looked up at her and shook his head. Mya’s chest tightened.

“She’ll need her insulin,” Corey said. “Miss Elizabeth, look in the fridge. She keeps the insulin in a Tupperware container.”

How does he know that? The whirl of the ambulance sirens stopped Mya from voicing the question out loud.

Moments later, two uniformed EMS workers entered the kitchen carrying a gurney. Mya stood to the side, fear gripping her chest as they checked her grandmother’s vitals, then strapped her to the gurney. She felt warm, gritty arms surround her as Corey came up behind her, encircling her in his arms.