Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  The mood around the table dwindles, and I shift a little uncomfortably in my chair because I know this story all too well, and it definitely isn’t pretty.

  “Well, this was the biggest game of my whole life. Division One college scouts were coming to see me play. We were up against our fiercest rivals. I had to do a good job because my entire future rested on that one game.” He takes another sip from his beer, managing a smile. “So, I wrangled the help of my very best friend who knew all too well about alcoholic fathers.” He glances at Nash. “Nash went to my house before my dad got home from work, and he cleaned out all the alcohol. The beer. The liquor.” He stops to laugh. “Hell, he even swiped a bottle of mouthwash from the upstairs bathroom.”

  Nash nods with a proud grin, shrugging to himself. “I’m thorough, if nothing else.”

  Harley looks down at the glass in his hand, taking a moment, and I glance from him to Nash, and back again, my eyes pricking with tears. “My father never made it to that game,” he continues. “When he realized all his liquor was gone he smashed up most of the house and went to the bar instead of coming to the high school stadium. And I played one of the greatest games of my entire football career that night. And I can confidently say that it’s because of this man right here.” He indicates Nash with a wave of his hand. “Without him, I might never have got my scholarship to State. All my dreams came true that night, because of him.”

  Nash smiles tightly, but then his eyes find mine, a look within them so full of meaning, despite his failing smile. You see, I know the truth about what really happened that night. What happened is a secret Nash and I will take to our graves. To everyone else, Nash’s bruises were a result of him falling off his bike in the woods, through the shortcut from his house to Harley’s. Nash never told Harley the truth about that night, because he didn’t want him to feel responsible for his best friend receiving the beating of his life just for helping him. But I know firsthand what happened, and to this day it still breaks my heart.

  In a town like Graceville, Georgia, Friday nights were for football games, noisemakers, giant foam fingers, and not a lot else. But for me, Friday nights were for pajamas, Eighties teen movies and way too much ice cream. I didn’t care for football. Even if Harley Shaw was QB1. I’d rather stick gum in my hair and spend all night trying to get it out, than sit in the high school football stadium surrounded by overzealous fans waving clappers in the air every time some footballer did something not even remotely exciting.

  I was halfway through my all-time favorite movie when my cell phone chimed from my night stand, alerting me to a new text message. Curious as to who the hell was messaging me on a Friday night when everyone I knew was at the game, I blindly reached out and picked up my phone.

  Nash: Can you please come here?

  My brow furrowed in confusion.

  To the game? I replied, my face already scrunching up at the sheer thought.

  Nash: No, to my house.

  I looked up, craning my neck to see out through my window. The street was cast in darkness, and the big elm tree in our front yard was in need of a trim, so I couldn’t see all the way to Nash’s house. But, immediately, my heart began racing in panic because I knew something must be wrong for him not to be at the game watching his best friend play such an important game. I jumped up, shoving my feet into my Converse and, without even stopping to second-guess myself, I hurried as fast as I could.

  Outside, the night air was icy as I ran across the road to Nash’s house. I came to a stop in his front yard, considering a moment. The lights were on, and his front door was hanging wide open but, thankfully, his daddy’s truck wasn’t in the drive. My heart was beating so hard in my chest, I was afraid it might crack a rib, but I continued up the front path, taking the steps two at a time before coming to a stop on the porch.

  “N-Nash?” I called, my voice wavering despite how desperately I tried to remain strong. “Nash?” I yelled again, slightly louder. But when he didn’t answer, I took a hesitant step over the threshold, coming to stop dead in my tracks, gasping when I saw the state of the living room.

  Picture frames had been torn from their hooks in the walls. Fist-sized holes gaped in the drywall. The base of a ceramic lamp was smashed on the hardwood floor. And there, in the middle of it all, was Nash cowered in the far corner, hunched into a ball, sobbing quietly.

  Instinctively, I ran to him, falling to my knees on the floor before him. I wanted to wrap him in my arms but I didn’t know how badly he was hurt and I didn’t want to make his pain worse. So, I stopped myself, gently reaching a hand out and placing it on his shoulder.

  “Nash?” I whispered, tears pricking my eyes.

  He lifted his head so slow, and I was taken aback by the sight of him. He was bleeding from a wound just above his left eye. The right one was almost completely closed over it was so swollen. But most shocking of all were the red welts in the shape of obvious hands, imprinted around his neck.

  “W-what happened?” I asked through a sob of my own.

  “My dad. He— He f-found the liquor …” Nash cried, coughing a little as he rubbed at the red marks at his throat.

  “What liquor?” I asked, shaking my head in confusion as I gently rubbed his arm.

  “The liquor I took from Harley’s house so his daddy wouldn’t get drunk and embarrass him at the game tonight,” he sobbed, swiping almost violently at the tears on his cheeks as if he hated the fact that’d he’d been reduced to such emotion.

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was hurt. Nash was in pain. And I had to help him. He needed me. “Where is he? Your father?” I asked, looking around at the state of the house, frightened his daddy might come back.

  Nash shrugged. “He left.”

  “Stay here,” I ordered. “I’m going to go pack you a bag. You’re coming to my house.”

  “What about your momma?”

  It wasn’t that Momma didn’t like Nash. In fact, she loved him like her own. But she knew a long time ago that there was a lot more to mine and Nash’s friendship. Maybe she even knew before the two of us had even figured it out. So, Nash Harris sleeping over was not allowed. I had a feeling if she knew the truth of what happened between him and his daddy on a daily basis, she would have cleared out the room above our garage and moved him right in. But she didn’t know, because I promised Nash I wouldn’t ever tell a soul about his daddy beating on him. Looking at him now though, I wish I’d broken that promise a long time ago.

  “It’s okay. She’s at Macon visiting my aunt for the weekend,” I said quickly before turning and hurrying upstairs as if my life depended on it.

  ***

  Later I sat on my bed, raking my teeth over my bottom lip as I stared at my cell phone. I should’ve called Momma to tell her. She deserved to know, and if she knew the truth, I know she wouldn’t be mad at me for having Nash in the house when she wasn’t here. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I promised him, and my promise was all I had. Chewing nervously on my thumbnail, I glanced up from my phone as my bedroom door slowly creaked open. Nash walked in, his hair damp from the shower I’d forced him to take. He stood in the middle of the room, his duffel bag falling from his hand to the hardwood floor with an almighty thud. He looked at me a little sheepishly, and the uncertainty in his eyes almost killed me.

  “I’m going to get you some Advil.” I jumped up and headed for the door.

  Nash stopped me, grabbing hold of my wrist as I passed him, and I turned slowly, looking up at him. “Don’t go,” he whispered.

  “I’m just going to the bathroom to get you some—” He silenced me with his index finger pressed against my lips, pulling me closer so there was no space left between us.

  “I don’t want no Advil, Murph,” he said, his voice full of an unimaginable pain. “I just want you. I need you.”

  At those words, all the air in my lungs escaped me, rendering me breathless. I looked up into his eyes
, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion. I knew what he was saying, but I couldn’t possibly believe he was saying it. “Y-you want m-me?” I stammered.

  He nodded. “I need you just to be here for me.”

  A flutter in my belly made my knees weak, and something I’d never felt before surged through me like a lightning bolt, bringing with it an ache in a place I hadn’t expected, nor been prepared for.

  “Please kiss me,” Nash pleaded, closing his eyes, his head dropping forward as if he was in the most immense amount of pain.

  I took a stuttering breath, considering for a moment, before reaching up on my tiptoes. With our mouths so close together I could feel the warmth of every one of his soft breaths. I brushed my lips against his. In an instant, his hands moved into my hair, urging me closer until we were nothing more than a flurry of lips, teeth and tongues in a frenzied kiss so full of need, want, and desperation that we became one.

  I blink hard, pulling myself from the memories consuming me, forcing myself back to the present and looking up at Harley as he continues talking.

  “My best friend risked everything to help me that night. Hell, he almost broke his damn neck falling off his bike on his way from my house back to his before my father returned home …” Harley pauses, his face full of seriousness before his mischievous grin returns. “But that’s the thing about Nash. He’ll gladly go through hell and back to help the ones he loves the most. Anna, you’re a lucky woman. Make sure you treat him right, because he deserves the world.” He stops to meet Anna’s eyes before raising his bottle in the air and looking around at everyone at the table. “To Nash and Anna.”

  “To Nash and Anna!” the entire table toasts in chorus.

  I swallow the lump at the back of my throat, forcing a smile as I lift my wine glass in the air. My eyes flit, momentarily meeting Nash’s once again, an unspoken truth passing between us from across the table before he turns to Anna, whispering something into her ear and leaning in close to place a kiss on her cheek.

  I tip back my head, finishing what’s left of my wine, placing the glass back down on to the table and lifting my napkin to wipe my lips. My cheeks flame as my heart sinks in my chest at the sheer thought that I’ve lost him. But it was me who saved him that night. It was me who was always saving him. And damn it, I am not going to give him up without a fight. I won’t let Anna take him away from me. He needs me just as much as I need him.

  Chapter 6

  I can feel Nash’s eyes on me as we stand together on the patio looking out over the immaculately landscaped golf course and all the way to the shadows of the pine forest lining the boundary in the distance, looming in the darkness. The moonlight reflects over the still lake, sprinkled upon the water like diamond dust. The stars twinkle high above, glowing like a million fireflies against an inky night sky. In the distance, a choir of crickets chirp through the woods, accompanying the soft tune of the music playing from inside the club as it seeps out into the calm night air, filling the silent void between us. It’s almost romantic. Almost.

  Yes, Nash’s eyes are on me, but I pretend not to notice the intensity within his gaze as he continues watching me. I can’t trust myself to look at him. I’m not sure what I might be capable of if I so much as chance it.

  “So …” He finally breaks the awkwardness of the silence, nudging me playfully with his elbow as we continue down the steps. “You and Harley, huh?”

  I swallow the guilt at the back of my throat, offering him a fleeting glance with a smile so tight. “Yeah.” I shrug nonchalantly, focusing intently on my Mary Janes as we follow the flagstone path.

  “I never thought I’d see the day Alice Murphy and Harley Shaw got together!” He laughs a somewhat derisive laugh, and it annoys me.

  I look to see him glancing up toward the clear night sky, a slightly smug grin lingering on his lips, and I turn to face him, placing a hand on my hip. “What’s so funny?” I ask a little abruptly.

  He looks at me, his eyes widening a moment before he relaxes again, his smile returning. “Nothing.” He shakes his head. “I just never expected the two of y’all to get together, that’s all.”

  “Why?” I press. “Is it so hard to imagine another guy wanting to be with me?”

  Nash’s brow furrows, his mouth falling open. “What?” He gasps. “No, Murph. Of course not. Why would you even say that?”

  Quite frankly, I don’t know why I asked that. But, stubbornly, I fold my arms over my chest, shaking my head as I turn, continuing along the path. Nash falls into step beside me as we walk in an overwrought silence, thick and heavy with tension until we come to a stop overlooking the lake. He’s still watching me. I can feel his eyes on me. But I choose to focus intently on the clubhouse as it glows in the darkness like a beacon in the distance.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally asks.

  This time, it’s me gaping at him, wondering if he can even be serious. “Well, that’s fresh coming from you.” I laugh. “Mr. ‘Oh, by the way, here’s an invitation to my wedding in a week’…” I quirk one of my eyebrows.

  “Okay.” Nash chuckles, obviously not missing the irony within his question. “I see your point.”

  I’m still annoyed, but I manage to let it go, huffing out a sigh with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s no big deal, anyway.”

  “Are you kidding me, Murph?” He laughs again, his eyes blazing beneath the glow of the moon, bluer than I’ve ever seen them. “My two best friends are together,” he continues with his hands in the air as if to further emphasize his point. “After everything we’ve been through, the three of us—” He stops himself, biting down on his bottom lip as he looks away a moment before recovering and offering me a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s a huge deal!”

  I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I’ve never lied to Nash, before. I know I need to come clean. I owe it to him, and to Harley as well. Harley doesn’t need to be dragged into my momentary lapse in judgment. It just isn’t right. But none of this is right. Only a few months ago, I was with Nash in New York City, and we shared the most loving, most romantic night together. Now, suddenly, he’s moved on, while I’ve been sitting around for five months waiting for him to come back to me, to profess his love for me, to give me the happily ever after I’ve been dreaming about since I was a 9-year-old girl. He’s supposed to be mine. He and I are meant for one another; we always have been. I’m hurt and I’m angry, and if Nash has moved on, then I want him to know that I have too. And, with his best friend of twenty years, nonetheless.

  But it’s all a lie. And what am I supposed to say now? Oh yeah, about that whole Harley and me thing? I was just lying because I don’t want you thinking I’ve been sitting around waiting for you for the last five months. Well, the last five years, actually.

  Thankfully, before I can even begin to explain or confess my lie, we’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps crunching over the loose pebbles on the path behind us. I breathe a sigh of relief, my shoulders sagging. But then I turn to see Harley walking toward us with his head bowed, his hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his pants, and my stomach twists. When he looks up, his eyes are full of an obvious trepidation as he tentatively approaches us. “Everything okay?” he asks, looking between the two of us as he rocks back and forth on his feet.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine …” Nash chuckles, a crease of confusion pulling between his brow. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Harley glances at me with a questioning look, but all I can offer him is a slight shake of my head, quickly averting my eyes. I stare down at my hands, cracking my knuckles.

  “I’m happy for you guys,” Nash says, moving forward and wrapping an arm around both Harley and me. “It’s about time.”

  About time? I swing around, one of my eyebrows quirked slightly higher in confusion. “What’s about time?” I study Nash, waiting for an explanation and his eyes flit from me to Harley, and back again. But before he can say anything, Harley interrupts the mom
ent.

  “I’ve gotta go. I have to stop in and check on the bar to make sure it’s all okay.” He rolls his eyes, continuing, “There’s this new girl. She can’t even pour a damn beer. I don’t think she knows how to close off the register.”

  Nash nods, removing his arm from my shoulders so he can pull Harley into a manly embrace. The two share a hug, complete with a couple of friendly back slaps and a few murmured words I’m not privy to. Pulling away, Harley looks at me, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “Um, d-did you want a ride home … babe?” he asks through gritted teeth, adding the pet name as an obviously forced afterthought.

  Nash watches closely, his eyes slightly narrowed.

  “Yeah.” I shrug, smiling at Harley as sincerely as I possibly can through the guilt and shame eating at me from the inside.

  “Y’all didn’t come together?”

  I gulp, at a loss for words as Harley looks from me to Nash and back again before fixing his eyes to the ground while rubbing his stubbled jaw, clearly waiting for me to speak first.

  “Oh, I-I—” I speak up with the first thing that comes to my mind. “I had a late customer consultation,” I lie. “I’ve been commissioned to make a sweet sixteenth birthday cake for the mayor’s daughter,” I add, as if to further validate my excuse, and for a moment I don’t even know who I am anymore. Does the mayor even have a daughter? I have no idea.

  “But—” Nash pauses, his brow furrowed as he looks away a moment before meeting my eyes once again. “But you were here before Harley.”

  Shit. I think for a moment. He’s right. I laugh with a casual shrug. “Yeah, but you know Harley.” I glance over my shoulder at Harley, careful to avoid his eyes. “He probably got sucked into some replay of a football game from five years ago on ESPN.”