Our Forever

by Elena Matthews

  She takes in a shuddering breath, her eyes prickling with a new sheen of tears. “Drew, you have me. Hell, you had me at sugar.”

  I smile as the memory fills my mind.

  I was playing around with my guitar while waiting for Lucy, the girl I’d casually been seeing, to arrive, so I could screw her brains out when I heard voices. When I opened my door, I didn’t need to see her to sense her—my new sexy neighbor, who I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since last night when she’d handed me my ass for playing my music too loud. In my defense, it was my douche-bag friend, Teddy, who had decided to blast rock music at two in the morning after a heavy night of drinking, not me. I had been drunkenly content, asleep on the sofa, when the bastard woke me up, too.

  I kissed Lucy with a toe-curling passion, knowing my neighbor’s stare was on us, and every second of that kiss was for her benefit. I was showing her what she could have if she were with me, and when I pulled away, I could see how much she wanted me just by the flush of her cheeks and how she was staring at me like I’d just stolen the very air she breathed.

  I kept her stare. Then, when I saw the gift box I’d left in front of my new neighbor’s door earlier this morning now in Lucy’s arms, I was unable to hide my amusement. It grew even more as I noticed the way my neighbor’s mouth twitched, almost like she was about to crack under the pressure of whatever was going on between us. Just when I thought I’d finally get to see her smile, her determination to hate me was kept in place, hiding her obvious humor behind the hard armor she was wearing.

  As I finally tore my gaze from her and focused on Lucy—although, at that point, I’d completely forgotten her name after being so consumed by my neighbor—the perfect nickname came to mind, especially since she’d made it abundantly clear to me this morning with the returned cupcakes and the note that she didn’t accept sugar from strangers. That, and I didn’t know her name.

  “Come on in, sugar,” I said to Lucy, but the words were aimed at my neighbor to ruffle her feisty feathers.

  With the heat of the gaze I could sense against my back as I walked inside, I knew she understood the meaning.

  And…well, that was the beginning and the very first word I said to Jo.

  I also didn’t sleep with Lucy. Instead, I feigned a headache, sent her on her way, and called the landlord to find out the name of my new mystery neighbor. It only took seven attempts until he caved and told me.

  I focus on the now and on the beautiful woman in front of me.

  “I just…”

  “You just what?” I urge, caressing my fingers through the strands of her hair, never once taking my eyes from her.

  “I don’t know how to love you and Christopher at the same time. I’ve never loved two people at once.”

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay to love us both. I’m never going to hold the love you have for him against you. It’s okay to miss him, to cry for him, but don’t ever hide that sadness from me. When your tears fall, I’ll be there to capture them, to kiss the sorrow away. I’ll be there, but you have to let me. You have to let me in.”

  Tears are streaming down her face, and I put my words into action by capturing a single tear with the pad of my thumb before pressing a kiss against the wetness of her cheek, kissing the sorrow away. Her eyes soften, and a look of awe flits across her face. If I didn’t have her with my speech, then the kiss has definitely done the trick.

  “I love you so much,” she declares for a second time as she falls into me.

  I hold her tight as she cries into the crook of my neck. We stay in this embrace until her shuddering cries slow down, until all I can hear is the steady sound of her breathing, with the gentle breeze blowing against the surrounding trees. She pulls back, and I smile at her as I caress my thumb against the warmth of her cheek. I go to press a kiss to her lips when an almighty growl erupts from her stomach, and she stifles a giggle.

  “I think that’s my stomach’s way of telling me that we’ve outstayed our welcome.”

  “You’re telling me,” I say with a smile. “When was the last time you ate?”

  She sheepishly pales as she thinks. “Dinner last night.”

  I shake my head. “Come on. Let’s go, so I can feed my girl.”

  “Okay,” she agrees.

  She untangles herself from my hold, and we both stand. She takes a moment to look down at Christopher’s headstone and closes her eyes, as if saying a little prayer. Once she reopens them, she takes ahold of my hand and leads us out of the cemetery.

  Since she came here in her car and I’m on my bike, I follow her back to the house. I wanted her with me on the back of my bike, but she was adamant that she wanted to drive.

  We’ve barely pulled up when a woman in her sixties steps out of the house with Junior speeding past her and heading straight to his mom. I remove my helmet and climb off the bike just as Jo steps out of the car and goes crashing backward against the car door as Junior barrels into her.

  “Mama, are you okay? You’ve been gone all day.” The concern in his eyes and his forehead scrunching up with worry are pretty adorable.

  She looks down at him while gently combing her fingers through his hair. “I was a little sad, but Drew came to the rescue, and I’m okay now,” she says with a glance in my direction.

  That’s when he sees me and comes charging at me, excitedly shouting, “Drew!”

  I grunt in pain as he runs at me at full force, but I manage to right myself. He might be little, but he has some strength.

  I kneel to his level. “How are you doing, little man?”

  He ignores my question altogether and focuses on his mom. “Did you make my mama feel better?”

  “I sure did. I got on my bike and headed straight to her, so I could put a smile on her pretty face.”

  His eyes light up, and he smiles wide. “She looks real pretty when she smiles.”

  “That she does,” I agree wholeheartedly, sending a wink in her direction, as she watches us from afar.

  Junior glances behind me at my bike with curiosity swimming in his eyes. “Can I ride on your motorcycle?”

  “One day, but right now, we need to feed your mom. Her stomach growled so loud that it sounded like she had a lion living inside her belly.”

  He throws his head back with a hearty giggle. “Did it sound like…roar?” He does his best lion impression, and I chuckle along with his infectious laughter.

  “It sounded exactly like that. We need to feed the lion, so it doesn’t eat her insides,” I say in an exaggerated voice.

  I tickle his ribs, causing an eruption of more giggles to escape, and he runs away from me, in the direction of the house.

  “We need to feed Mama before the lion eats her,” he tells his grandma as he screeches to a stop in front of her.

  “What are you teaching my boy?” Jo asks with a glint of happiness in her eyes.

  As we make our way up the path, I’m instantly relieved to see her sadness gradually fading away.

  “Nothing much. Just that you have a lion in your stomach, and if we don’t feed you, it’ll eat your insides.”

  She glares at me with a shake of the head. “If he starts having nightmares, it’s on you, buddy.”

  I chuckle as we take the steps to the porch. The woman who I assume is Christopher’s mom smiles at Jo, relief paramount in her eyes.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m okay,” Jo responds softly with a timid smile. “I’m sorry for being gone all day.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. Do you hear me? Come here, baby.”

  She opens her arms in the motherly way my mom used to do, and Jo walks into those welcomed arms and seemingly melts against her hold. Seconds pass until they break apart, and that’s when Jo looks back at me, reaching out to capture my hand. I accept and tighten my fingers against hers, loving how warm her small hand is inside mine.

  “Alana, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Drew.”

  “Well, it�
��s about time I met the man who’s given my girl something to smile about. Give me some sugar.”

  And, much to my surprise, she pulls me into an embrace, and I can’t keep the smirk off my face at her mention of sugar.

  She steps back, and she looks to Jo. “So, according to my grandson, I’d better feed you before the lion eats your insides. How about I make you your favorite dish?”

  Jo’s eyes light up. “You’re making me your special Frito pie?”

  “You know it, baby girl.”

  “Frito pie? What are you? Eight?” I mockingly retort.

  Jo’s eyes flash to mine with irritation, and my dick throbs at having my girl back to her normal feisty self.

  God, what I wouldn’t do right now to bend her over and fuck her senseless.

  “For that comment right there, you don’t get any.”

  “Now, now, no lovers’ tiff. I have enough for y’all. Let’s go inside,” Alana says.

  We follow her inside.

  I close the door behind us, and Alana’s voice echoes around the foyer.

  “Samuel, pause your game for a minute, and come and meet Jo’s young man.”

  The sound of a game in the background pauses, and several seconds later, an older version of Tyler appears.

  Much like when I met Tyler, this man’s grimaced face is aimed at me, putting me under scrutiny, looking me up and down with distaste. He steps up to me, matching my six-foot height, and I find myself in some kind of staring contest with him. However, unlike with Tyler, this guy has a threatening stance about him that has the palms of my hands beginning to sweat, but I manage to keep my poker face in place. I can’t show that I’m intimidated because…well, I don’t particularly want to look like a pussy in front of my girl.

  I love how protective they seem of her though, like she really is one of the family. It’s nice she has them, especially since her own mom and dad really don’t give a crap about her—or Junior, for that matter.

  “You’re Drew?” he says, almost like an order, like he’s the commanding officer during an in-quarters inspection.

  “The one and only, sir.” The use of sir automatically leaves my lips. It’s not usually a word I would use to address someone, but since my balls are sweating with unbearable nerves, it was an involuntary response.

  “You treat Jo like the princess she is?”

  “Sam,” Jo protests with a sigh.

  “I wouldn’t treat her any less,” I answer honestly.

  “And my boy, you treat him good?”

  “Of course.” I wanted to add, Like my own son, but after where Jo’s head has been, I don’t want to tip her over the edge.

  Then, suddenly, he leaves my mind in a head spin when he asks, “You like football?”

  Talk about a conversation change.

  “I love it. I’m a huge Houston Texans fan.”

  “Soccer?”

  “I prefer football.”

  “Baseball?”

  “My second love to football. I actually took Jo and Junior to a Rangers game a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Grandpa, it was awesome! They totally whooped butt!” Junior exclaims as he appears from the kitchen, his eyes wide, his face animated with excitement.

  Samuel glances down at his grandson with a softness in his eyes I’ve yet to be on the receiving end of.

  He returns his narrowing eyes back to me before his mouth tilts with a smile. “I like you. I’m a little disappointed you’re a Houston Texans fan. They have nothing on the Cowboys, but I won’t hold that against you.”

  I grin, getting a little cocky. “Well, you’d know since you’re a Cowboys fan. I can’t even remember the last time they won a championship.”

  “Funny you should say that. When have the Texans ever won a championship?”

  “Enough of the sports talk,” Alana demands.

  Jo shakes her head with amusement.

  “Be a gentleman and offer Drew a drink while I start on some food for them.”

  Sam smiles, winking at his wife. “Has anybody told you that you’re beautiful when you’re angry?”

  “Don’t try and sweet-talk me, Samuel Benjamin Bailey.” She turns away, toward the kitchen, muttering, “Men and their sports.”

  “I’d like to blame it on PMS, but she’s way past menopause,” Samuel says in a lowered voice with a shit-eating grin.

  “I heard that!” Alana bellows from the kitchen.

  All three of us laugh. We follow Samuel into the kitchen. He zones straight for the fridge while Jo and Junior take a seat around the breakfast bar.

  “Beer?” Samuel hands me a Bud.

  I decline. “I’d better not. I have a three-hour journey back to Austin. Bikes and beers don’t mix.”

  “Nonsense. It’s almost eight now. I’ll get you a bed made up, and you can stay the night,” Alana speaks while she chops up some onions.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to be an imposition.”

  “Yes. Now, sit your ass down with your beer while I’ll get y’all some food.”

  Well, there’s no arguing with that. “Yes, ma’am.” I smile as I accept the beer from Samuel.

  I go to stand beside Jo as Samuel hands her a beer, and with the stress of today, she downs the entire thing in three gulps.

  Damn, that was sexy.

  “Mama, what did you do to your hand?” Junior shrieks once Jo puts the bottle down.

  I’m swiftly reminded of the cut on her hand that needs tending to.

  “Oh Lord, when did you do that?” Alana stops what she’s doing to take a look.

  “Ah, I did it this morning on a broken mug.”

  Alana takes Jo’s hand into her own, inspecting it through the lens of her glasses. “This looks nasty, but it shouldn’t need any stitches. Let’s get that cleaned up.”

  “I’ll do it. Where’s your first aid kit?” I interject, putting my untouched beer down on the counter.

  “It’s in the bathroom upstairs,” Alana instructs.

  Jo and I head on upstairs, and once we are in the bathroom, I search for the first aid kit, while Jo takes a seat on the toilet, resting her hand, palm up, along the vanity top. I find it, set it aside and take out an antiseptic wipe. I begin to clean the wound, and I hate the way Jo hisses out when the alcohol touches the skin.

  “I’m sorry about ruining the mug you got me. I loved that mug,” Jo says.

  She looks up at me as I clean the blood from her hand. I place the used antiseptic wipe to the side and reach for the antibiotic cream.

  “Sugar, it’s a mug. It cost, like, seven bucks. I’ll get you another one.”

  “You said it cost you twenty,” she pointedly accuses.

  I unscrew the top and squeeze a small amount of cream against the pad of my index finger before setting the tube down. “I lied.” I grin before focusing on her hand, applying the cream. “I was trying to impress you, which worked, by the way.”

  “That feels good.” She nods to her hand while I’m gently massaging the cream along the abrasion.

  “I know something else that could make you feel good.”

  Her face is level with my crotch, and I give a little thrust of my hips, initiating a laugh to escape her beautiful lips.

  Laughing, I grab a towel from the rail and wipe my hand of the remaining antibiotic cream. “You have no idea what that laugh does to me.”

  She flicks her gaze down to my cock that’s undeniably pressing up against my jeans. “Um, I kinda do.”

  I rip the packaging from the sterile gauze roll and gently wrap it around the wound before securing it in place with a little tape. “It’s the effect you have on me.” I lift her hand and press a kiss against the bandage on her palm. “Good as new.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers with a serenity that tells me she isn’t just talking about me fixing her hand up.

  “You okay now?”

  She stands. “Yeah. The beer helped, but I’m pretty exhausted from the crying.”

  I pull h
er into me, wrapping my arms around her, and kiss her temple. “We’ll eat and then crash. How does that sound?”

  “It sounds perfect.”

  We return downstairs, and we’re hit with the smell of beef and chili powder as Alana is at the stove, stirring the ingredients for the Frito pie.

  “You all fixed up?” Alana asks, looking up from the pan of food.

  Jo holds up her hand that’s secured with the gauze dressing while walking over to the refrigerator.

  “Do you need a hand with anything?” I offer, the manners my mama instilled in me coming out automatically, especially when there is food involved.

  “No, I won’t hear of such a thing. Sit and relax.”

  I smile as I grab ahold of my beer and take a sip. “I have to say, it’s been a long time since I’ve had anybody cook for me.”

  “Your mama doesn’t cook for you?” Alana asks with curiosity.

  My chest wrenches with pain at the thought of my mom. “She did, but she died three years ago.”

  She looks up from her task at hand, and sadness overshadows her face. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Hopefully, you’ll think my cooking is just as good.”

  “I have no doubt. It already smells incredible.”

  “Jo,” Alana calls out with a smile on her face.

  Jo shuts the refrigerator with a can of Dr. Pepper in her hand.

  “I like him. I think you have a winner here.”

  “He’s a charmer, isn’t he?” Jo returns Alana’s smile before glancing over to me with an adoring gaze.

  “He sure is, baby girl.”

  Once our meal is served, I have to refrain from moaning with every bite I take because this has to be the best Frito pie that has ever passed my lips.

  “Good?” Alana asks as we all sit around the table, devouring the food in front of us.

  “So good,” I speak with a mouthful of food, unable to stop eating.

  “You’d better make the most of it,” chimes in Samuel. “You’ll be lucky you ever get anything other than ramen noodles with this one.”

  He smirks, and I laugh at the sour expression on Jo’s face.