A Forever Kind of Love (Kimani Romance) (14 page)

“Oh, my God,” Mya breathed. Instant tears sprung in her eyes. “Corey? How did you? When?” She looked up at him, but her watery vision obscured his face. “How did you find it?” she asked.

“Magic,” he said.

“Corey, I’m serious. I thought you said Elvin Armant sold everything in the antiques shop?”

“Don’t worry about how I got my hands on it. Just know that it now belongs to you. Forever.” He cradled her cheek in his palm and pressed his lips against her mouth with intoxicating sweetness. “So do I, Mya. You’ve owned my heart for so long, I can’t imagine it in the hands of anyone else. It’s all yours.”

Mya couldn’t utter a single word. But then she didn’t have to. With knowledge of her body only he possessed, Corey lowered her back onto the bed and coaxed every drop of emotion from her as he made love to her long into the night.

Chapter 11

C
orey heard the ringing, but he was too weak to move a solitary muscle. He lifted his head and eyed his cell phone vibrating just a few feet away on the ornate credenza.

“Are you going to answer that?” Mya’s husky voice was muffled by the pillow.

“No.” He twisted around and pulled her against him, his body stirring to life in anticipation of what he planned to do with her this morning.

The phone started ringing again.

Corey growled as he pushed himself up from the bed. Stark naked, he padded over to the dresser and grabbed the phone.

“Hello?” he snapped. “Andre?” Anxiety tightened his stomach. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Corey tried to concentrate on the boy’s muffled words. A minute later, he hung up the phone and turned to Mya. She’d sat up in the bed, her eyes wide with concern.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“No,” Corey said, trying to ignore the pull in his belly at the sight of her bare shoulders, knowing how naked she was underneath the silken sheet she’d tucked under her arms. “That was one of my baseball players, Andre Thomas.”

“Brandy’s son. You told me about him. What’s wrong?”

“He’s stuck out in the middle of nowhere, at an abandoned warehouse on Highway 190 somewhere past Covington. Said his cousin T.J. asked him to help with a job. Turned out to be something illegal. Andre wouldn’t tell me what, though. He doesn’t want to get his cousin in trouble.”

Corey reached for the overnight bag he’d set on the credenza and pulled out a T-shirt. “I guess I should be happy he backed out of whatever the hell T.J. is mixed up in, but I’m still pissed at him for following his cousin out there in the first place. I told him to stay away from that boy.”

According to the rumors he’d heard around town, T.J. had supplied the drugs Andre’s mother had been caught peddling. Like Corey’s own brothers had been for him, T.J. was the worst kind of influence for a boy Andre’s age.

Mya slid out of bed and started dressing. With each stitch of clothing she put on Corey silently cursed Andre’s bad timing. This was
not
how he’d expected their romantic getaway to end.

“I’m sorry about this,” he told Mya. “I’ll drive you back to your grandmother’s and then see about picking up Andre.”

“But if he’s past Covington, doesn’t it make more sense to just take the Causeway bridge from here? It’ll cut your drive time in half.”

“I’m not dragging you with me.”

“Be real, Corey. That boy doesn’t need to stay out there any longer than he has to. I’m coming with you,” Mya said in a tone that brooked no further argument.

Corey walked the couple of blocks to get his car while Mya finished getting dressed. By the time he’d squared away the bill with the front desk she had made it to the lobby. Once in the car, they headed west on I-10 toward the Causeway bridge in Metairie, just outside of the New Orleans city limits.

Corey filled Mya in on some of the run-ins he’d had with Andre over the past year. Stupid, petty incidents that would stop a major Division One school from adding Andre to their roster, despite his talent on the baseball diamond.

Once they crossed Lake Pontchartrain and started west on Highway 190, Corey called Andre to get a better idea of where the boy thought the warehouse was located. Fifteen minutes later, Corey spotted the abandoned corrugated steel building. He turned off the highway and started down a short drive riddled with potholes. He caught sight of Andre standing underneath a covered entryway.

Corey tightened his hands on the steering wheel, trying like hell to calm himself down before he did something he’d regret.

Mya put a hand on his forearm. “Hear him out,” she said.

Corey nodded. Taking a deep breath, he got out of the car and started toward Andre, with Mya following a few feet behind him.

“Thanks for coming, Coach,” Andre mumbled as Corey approached.

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t decided if I’m going to take you home or leave your ass out here. What the hell were you thinking, Andre?”

The boy didn’t say anything, just looked down at the ground.

Corey leaned in close and aimed a finger at the boy’s chest.

“The problem is you just don’t realize how good you’ve had it. I should have kicked you off the team after you and those other knuckleheads trashed Donaldson’s house, but I let it slide. Then I catch you stealing beer, and I let
that
slide. But I told you to stop following behind that cousin of yours. Now, tell me why in the hell I should give you any more chances?”

Andre remained stubbornly silent, and Corey saw red, especially when he thought about what he
could
be doing right now with Mya back in their hotel suite.

“Answer me!” he roared. “Why are you still hanging out with T.J. when I told you to stay away from him?”

“Because nobody else cares,” Andre shouted. His hands fisted at his sides as he stared defiantly at Corey. “T.J. is the only one who gives a crap about me. My mama doesn’t want me going to see her in jail. I try to talk to Aunt Kendra, but she acts like she can’t even see me. None of them care about me.”

Corey’s anger instantly abated the minute the tears started to flow down Andre’s cheeks.

“Dammit,” he whispered as he grabbed the boy by the shoulder and brought him into his embrace.

“T.J. is the...only one...I’ve got,” Andre blubbered.

“No, he’s not,” Corey said, patting Andre’s back. He pulled him away in order to look him in the eyes. He had to get through to the boy before Andre found himself in the same situation his mother was in.

“I know it’s hard not having your mom around, but you need to realize that T.J. doesn’t care about you as much as you may think he does. He’s using you, Andre. What happened today should show you that. And your Aunt Kendra.” Corey shook his head. “Look, I’ve known her since we were kids, and she’s always been selfish. To tell you the truth, I was surprised when I learned that she’d agreed to take you in.”

He captured Andre’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “But you do have people who care about you,” Corey emphasized. “It keeps me up at night, trying to figure out how to get through to you and show you that I care about you. I care about all of you on the team. You’re like the sons I never had, and my main goal as a coach is to see that you all succeed. Not just on the baseball diamond, but in life. Do you understand, Andre?”

The boy nodded and sniffed, his body jerking with barely reined-in sobs.

Corey brought him in for another hug. He looked over Andre’s head and spotted Mya. Her face, like Andre’s, was saturated with tears. Before he could ask if she was okay, she spun around and raced toward the other side of the building.

* * *

Mya ran like the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels. She collapsed against the side of the rusty corrugated building, using her arm to muffle cries that quickly turned to sobs.

For years she’d wondered what type of father Corey would have been to her baby if she had not miscarried. It was unrealistic to compare the seventeen-year-old high school senior who had gotten her pregnant to the man she’d just seen comforting Andre. But witnessing his compassion and the tough, yet understanding, way he’d handled the troubled teen touched the very depths of her soul.

Seconds later, Corey came around the building and stooped next to her. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Mya choked out, and pointed at her throat. “Something went down the wrong way,” she lied.

“Do you need some water? I may have a bottle in the car.” His voice still brimmed with compassion, this time for her. It only helped in pushing Mya even closer to the edge. The tidal wave of emotion was so unexpected she could barely contain it.

For years she’d done all she could not to dwell on the baby she’d lost. Every so often she would see a young mother pushing a stroller and feel overwhelmed with sadness. She would quickly remind herself that she’d dodged a bullet with that long-ago miscarriage and the sadness would be replaced with gratefulness.

But for the first time, Mya allowed herself to imagine what might have been. She closed her eyes and pictured that baby with Corey’s eyes and her curly hair. She saw Corey sitting up in bed, reading fairy tales at bedtime, the way her grandfather used to read to her.

A sense of wanting, like nothing she’d ever experienced before, crashed into her. She wanted what she’d lost. The baby. The life with Corey. She wanted it all.

Corey smoothed his hand down her back. “Mya, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” The concern in his voice prompted another bout of sobs, but she quelled them, pulling in several deep breaths.

“I’m fine. Really.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Sorry about that.”

Corey gazed at her with a wary frown. “Give me a minute,” he said before taking off. He returned moments later carrying a half-f bottle of water. “It’s a little warm,” he said, handing the bottle to her.

“Thank you.” She took a sip of water and nodded toward Andre. “Is he okay?”

Corey propped his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Not really. I’m going to need to talk to Aunt Kendra.”

“I’ll bet you’re looking forward to that,” Mya choked out with a laugh, but Corey didn’t share her humor. He was staring at her again with that intense gaze that seemed to look straight into her soul. “I’m fine,” she told him. “Please stop looking at me like that. We’re here for Andre. Let’s make sure he’s okay.”

“Don’t think for a minute that I’m just going to let this drop, Mya. You know me better than that.”

She did. Which was why she was going to try her hardest to stave off his questions until after the anniversary celebration, when she would no longer be here to answer them.

Because despite how much she wanted it, Mya knew it was too late for a life with Corey. Their worlds were too different, their history together too much to overcome.

But there was one thing in their past that could not remain there. She’d kept it buried too long. And after what she’d witnessed today, she had no choice.

Before she went back to New York, Mya knew she had to tell Corey about the baby.

* * *

Corey adjusted his back in an attempt to dislodge the tree bark that was digging into his flesh. He stared at the sexy curve of Mya’s spine as she stood hunched over, a fishing rod clutched in her hands. Her concentration was zeroed in on the murky pond. Corey bit back a laugh. She’d tried her hardest to become a city girl, but small-town living was ingrained in her. This was where she belonged. In this town. With him.

She would refute it; Corey knew her well enough to predict her reaction. But there was no denying what was going on here. Last Saturday had been about more than just falling into bed again, it had been about falling back in love.

Though, if he were being honest, Corey could admit that he’d never stopped loving her, despite the years they had been apart. Their love had been young, but it had been real. And in fifteen years Corey had never succeeded in finding a woman who could hold a candle to Mya. He’d tried, but no one had even come close.

He was done searching. He had Mya back. He wasn’t letting her go.

“Why haven’t you ever married?” Corey asked her. She looked at him, her eyes wide as she stared at him in mute shock.

He tilted his head to the side. “Why?” he asked again.

She returned her attention to the water and recast her fishing rod into the pond. “I’m guessing ‘I just never got around to it’ won’t fly with you, will it?” she asked.

“No,” Corey answered. He pushed up from his relaxed position and sat next to her at the pond’s edge. Slipping his arms around her waist, he rested his chin on her shoulder, inhaling her unique scent that the swampy water could not mask. “After all these years, Mya, why didn’t you ever get married?”

He felt the deep sigh that rumbled through her body.

“You were hard to replace,” she finally answered. Her softly spoken admission was so profound Corey could hardly breathe. “To be honest, I never even came close,” Mya continued. “I thought this one guy, Derrick, could possibly turn into something meaningful. We were together for nearly two years, but the connection just wasn’t there, you know?”

He knew exactly what she was talking about. His longest relationship had lasted just over a year.

Corey reached forward and pulled the fishing rod from her fingers. He tossed it to the ground before gripping Mya’s wrists and turning her to face him. He brought his hands up to her shoulders and massaged them.

“What else?” he asked. He would get her to admit she still loved him.

“What?” She sighed. “What more do you want me to say, Corey? That no man has ever lived up to you? I just admitted that.” She shook her head, expelling a mirthless laugh as she lifted her eyes to his. “It was always so easy with you. We never had to work at finding things to say to each other. We were always so comfortable together. That’s what was missing with the others. I’ve only had that with you.”

As he stared into her lovely face, Corey knew he was done. Completely, undeniably done. He’d never find another woman better suited for him than the one before him. They’d lost fifteen years, but they wouldn’t lose any more. They were meant to be together. It was as simple as that.

“Stay,” he said.

Mya’s head jerked back. “What?”

“Don’t go back to New York.”

She stared at him, her mouth gaped open. “I have to,” she said. “My life is in New York. My work is there. My apartment. Everything. It’s my home.”

“
This
is your home.” Corey tightened his grip on her shoulders. “Deny it all you want, but this place is in your blood. You care about what happens to Gauthier. If you didn’t, you would have left the minute your grandmother got out of the hospital. It’s your home, Mya. It’s time for you to come back to it.”

She shook her head. “No,” she choked out. “When I left Gauthier it was for good, Corey. I’m going to visit more often—I’ve already decided that. But my life is no longer here.”

She wrangled out of his hold and picked up her fishing rod. Turning back to the pond, she cast her line into the water, her back rigid, her head defiantly upright. Corey reached out for her, but pulled his hand back before making contact.