Forever Kind of Love

By Moira Callahan

Taylor Granger was the one. Veronica “Roni” Malone knew it the first moment she saw him. He made her heart race and her palms sweat. Who cared that they were only in high school. She knew. Heartbroken when life pulled them in different directions, Roni spent the next twenty years trying to fill the gaping hole in her heart. When her beloved Mustang gets towed into Taylor’s mechanic shop, she knew she’d been given a second chance.

Taylor couldn’t believe his eyes. The woman who’d tortured his dreams stood in front of him again after all this time. Roni had rocked his world from day one, and he wasn’t about to let the best thing that ever happened to him get away again.

Back together, the fire sparks and passions burn as they try to find their way back to what they’d left behind and to the realization that their love had always been a forever kind of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: May 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781771308274

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www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Moira Callahan

ISBN: 978-1-77130-827-4

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Laurie Temple

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I’m dedicating this story to my best friend and sister for encouraging me to submit. You are amazing and I couldn’t ask for a better friend in my life. I love you, babe!

I would also like to give a big thank my editor on this story. Laurie, you were a true angel, thank you for being so gentle with me on my first foray into the publishing world. I’m very glad to have had your guiding hand on this journey.

FOREVER KIND OF LOVE

Moira Callahan

Copyright © 2014

Prologue

New York City, New York

June 4, 1994

Dear Diary,

They finally did it. My parents finally divorced. Thank you, God! It was made all official like three weeks ago and mom moved us out. Dad got to keep the house but mom’s lawyer ensured he got screwed over good. I feel for him, but now I’m the one stuck with the shrew for the rest of time. He got off easy.

Two more miserable people, I doubt I could ever find… Well, except for maybe that skank in math class, Charlene Rutger. Chuckie as I call her. Boy, does that make her face go purple! Ha!

They think that I’m traumatized by it all. As if. It’s a relief, which I told them, but noooo, what the hell do I know, right? I’m just the dumb kid that’s had to listen to them arguing since practically the day I was born.

So, because of how traumatized I am, I get to go to therapy. Woohoo—not! My fucking shrink, sorry, therapist—gag—thinks I need to have an outlet for my feelings about this. Like I’ve ever been shy about expressing myself. Who the hell does this broad think she is?

So I get to write a diary about all the traumatizing emotions I’ve been carrying around. As if. Oh well, at least I get out of class early for my sessions, and I don’t actually listen to her. Even though she tries to engage me, blah, blah, blah. Psycho-babble is what that shit is.

Until next time,

Least-traumatized-by-divorced-parents kid on the planet.

****

August 20, 1994

Dear Diary,

So I get to start a new school tomorrow, way out of my district, of course, because mom couldn’t live in the same neighborhood as that faithless ass and his twit girlfriend. Which is fine. I didn’t like my options for high school where we were living. At least this way, I get a whole new start with people I don’t know and who don’t know me.

Oh yeah, Dad’s got a new girlfriend. Apparently after the divorce was final, he kicked the other one to the curb and went younger with more perks. Perky ass, perky boobs, perky personality and so forth. Unfortunately, he downgraded on her smarts. She’s dumber than a sack full of hammers.

Still stuck going to the psycho shrink, and yes I call her that to her face. She says I have misplaced anger that of course needs to be dealt with. I’m a fucking teenager, of course I have misplaced anger! Who the fuck is this moron, and how the fuck did she get a degree? My God, the standards are so totally low for this shit.

I do have to say I like writing in you, Diary. It’s kinda fun to say all the shit I can’t say to anyone else without them calling in the guys with the funny white jacket with the hug me sleeves. Though, according to rumor, there are ways of getting out of those if you have a few minutes.

Until after I start school,

Misplaced-anger-and-not-dealing-with-it teenager.

****

September 15, 1994

Dear Diary,

Holy shit! I totally am, like, in love with my school! Like, holy shit!

It is the most amazing fucking place on the planet. It looks cool and has this atrium and sun room full of plants and shit. It’s awesome!

And there are some cool people there. I’ve met some new friends, though I am giving them a trial run only, currently. There is potential there for a best friend possibility. Not saying who yet, but there’s a chance.

Oh! And there’s this boy in my class, Taylor Granger. Holy mother of God is he H-O-T!

I’m totally playing it cool, even though I have to consciously try and stay aware if I’m gaping or drooling when he’s around. Six feet, black hair, pale-blue eyes with this medit...shit, uh, medittera...shit. He looks like a damned Greek god okay. Fuck, note to self, look that word up in the dictionary later, damn it.

He’s nicely toned. Apparently, he played football in junior high but decided against it in high school, somethin’ ‘bout a bad knee, I think. By the walk he walks, no, stalks like a jungle cat...yeah, that’s better. By the way he stalks through the halls you’d never know it. He’s smooth as could be.

He’s also super nice, at least from what little I’ve seen and noticed. Okay, I may have briefly stalked him for like three days before realizing how totally uncool that was. But seriously, Diary, he’s pretty much the nicest, down to earth, bad-boy-vibing teenager on the planet. Oh! And he has a tattoo. A fucking tattoo! It’s super sexy, fits him perfect and I have way too many fantasies about sliding my tongue over it. Yum!

Damn it, now I need a cold shower. Fuck.

Until next time,

Hot-and-bothered teenager.

****

October 4, 1994

Dear Diary,

Holy mother of God, shoot me now.

So, like, I was at school the other day and everything’s going