Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  “I know, I’m sorry, babe.”

  I could feel tears burning at the backs of my eyes, but I refused to cry. I’d cried enough over the last few weeks, I couldn’t spare any more tears.

  “Maybe you could—” Nash went to speak, stopping himself halfway.

  “Maybe I could what?”

  He paused a moment, and all I could hear was the sound of the New York City traffic bustling in the background of his call. It was a sound I hated when I’d first moved up there. A sound I never thought I would get used to. A sound I now miss, terribly, because all it does is remind me of what I’m missing out on being down here in Graceville, Georgia, a town with literally two sets of traffic lights and three roundabouts, and no such thing as a morning rush hour.

  “Maybe you could come back to New York?” he suggested. “Back to school. You could take catch-up classes, and we could—”

  “Nash,” I interjected. “I can’t go back to school. I can’t afford the tuition, and I have this place to run. I’m-I’m not coming back to New York.”

  “What? Ever?” His voice was high-pitched and incredulous, and I imagined his blue eyes bulging.

  I took a deep breath, preparing myself. I hadn’t been expecting to have this conversation with him over the phone. I’d planned on telling him when he came home this weekend to help with the reopening. “I have to stay here,” I began to explain, considering my words. “I can’t lose this place, Nash. My mother worked her whole life for the bakery. It’s been in the family for three generations.”

  Silence ensued.

  “S-so you’re not coming back to New York?” Nash finally asked, and there was something behind his question—a harsh tone within his voice—that immediately pricked the skin at the back of my neck.

  “No,” I stated vehemently. “I’m not coming back, Nash.”

  “Well then,” he said with a derisive laugh that held no hint of humor. “I guess there’s nothing more to say.”

  I pressed my lips together, picking at a loose thread on my apron. “I guess not.”

  “I’ve gotta go,” he murmured. “I’ll call you later.”

  And with that, our call ended. No I love you. No I miss you. Not even a goodbye.

  I stared down at the half-frosted cupcakes, so many conflicting emotions running through my mind. And those tears I’d been trying so hard to keep at bay began falling relentlessly. Looking around at the kitchen, I realized something. This was my life now, whether I liked it or not. And, without warning, an anger I’d never felt before got the better of me. Or, maybe it wasn’t anger. Maybe it was the feeling of resignation or resentment. I don’t know what it was but, without even considering the consequences of my actions, I released a scream that had been pent up inside me for far too long.

  Lunging forward with as much strength as I could muster, I swiped at the cupcakes, the mixing bowls, the ingredients, everything, watching as it all went crashing to the floor in an almighty clatter before I went down with it straight after. As I buried my tear-streaked face into my hands, I cried for everything I’d lost. Momma, college, Nash, my life as I’d known it. It felt as if everything was falling apart and there was nothing I could do about it.

  But then, something I hadn’t expected. I startled from my sobs by the sound of scuffing footsteps coming from the doorway through to the kitchen. Wiping my eyes, I sniffled, looking up, and my jaw dropped as fresh tears fell.

  No, I thought to myself. It couldn’t possibly be him.

  With sad eyes, he offered a lopsided smile I could tell was for my benefit only. I could see the pain his own smile caused him deep within his sad eyes. But still, he smiled. And, with a slightly staggered limp, he took another step forward.

  “Hey, Murph.”

  “Harley?” My voice croaked through my emotion as I looked him up and down. He was skinnier than I’d ever seen him look. His cheeks were hollow, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes. Dressed in a faded T-shirt and basketball shorts that hung low on his narrow waist, I zeroed in on the knee braces securing each of his knees, and the crutch he kept himself upright with, secured under his left arm.

  “W-what are you d-doing here?” I gasped, scrambling back up to my feet. “I thought you were still in hospital!”

  “I discharged myself.” He nodded, looking me up and down before his glassy eyes met mine. “I needed to come home …”

  I stared at him as tears pricked my eyes and emotion overwhelmed every fiber of my being. There, before me, stood a boy so broken, inside and out. After losing everything he’d worked so hard for all his life, at a time when he should’ve been recovering, here he was.

  A sob escaped me, but I didn’t care anymore. The tears flowed freely, streaming down my cheeks as I ran across the kitchen as fast as I could, crashing into his chest. And, with our arms wrapped around one another so tight, I’m sure neither of us could breathe properly. I cried against his chest, feeling some semblance of comfort in the familiarity and warmth he provided, and for the first time since losing Momma, I didn’t feel alone.

  Pulling myself from my overwhelming thoughts, I look to where Nash and Anna are laughing and giggling together, and I sigh, looking down at my hands as I think of the past five years. That phone call hadn’t been the end of mine and Nash’s relationship. We managed to drag it out for longer than we should have, and I don’t even know why. It was hell for the both of us. Visiting one another when we had the time and the money. Talking as much as we could over the phone. But then, our conversations became labored, forced. And our visits became few and far between. Although it was obvious where we were heading, we’d each been too stubborn to end it. Unfortunately, our ending came long after both our hearts had been broken.

  “Burger?”

  I look up to see Harley standing over me, a paper plate in his hand with a cheeseburger on it, and something comes over me—an emotion I hadn’t been expecting—and I feel tears prick at the backs of my eyes when I suddenly realize something as if for the first time. The day I’d lost Nash, I gained Harley. He was there for me when Nash wasn’t. It was Harley who had helped me pick up all the pieces when I needed someone the most.

  I swallow the emotion balling at the back of my throat, managing a smile as I take the plate from him. “Thanks.”

  Expecting him to walk away and go back to his friends, much to my surprise he takes the seat right next to me, and I feel his gaze watching me intently while I pick at the burger bun.

  “Are you okay?” He cocks his head to the side, studying me.

  I nod, eating a slice of pickle, avoiding his eyes.

  “Murph?” Harley leans in closer, lowering his voice a little and I force myself to look at him. “I’ve known you for fifteen years. We may not be best friends, according to you, but I know you well enough to know when something’s wrong.” A small smile plays on his lips, hinting at his dimples, and his green eyes are dubious as he continues watching me.

  I shrug. “I didn’t mean what I said last night.”

  His eyebrows pull together as he studies me for a long moment.

  “About you and me. About our friendship being forced.” The words are like poison on my tongue, and I shake my head at myself, unable to believe I even said such a thing last night. I take a deep breath, blinking away those infuriating tears. “You’re my best friend, Harley. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  I half-expect him to offer me some smartass comment like he normally would, but he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches out, his hand squeezing my knee once, a small smile of understanding curving his lips upward as he stands back up and returns to the grill to continue plating the burgers.

  Chapter 10

  The afternoon sun finally retreats behind the tall pines, offering a reprieve to the blistering warmth and, with the cool shade it provides over the backyard, the guys decide to play a game of flag football, with Nash and Harley as the team captains.

  Normally I’m not one f
or sports. There’s just something barbaric about it all. Plus, I’m terrible at any and every physical activity, and far too competitive for someone as unfit as I am. But, when Nash chooses Anna first up, I stand from my seat so fast the thing falls back against the decking. I meet Harley’s eyes with a pleading look. He just has to let me play.

  “Okay.” Harley chuckles under his breath, a look of confusion in his eyes as he meets my stare. “I pick Murph.”

  “Aww, cute …” Nash laughs, teasingly, nudging his friend with his shoulder.

  Harley shakes his head at him, watching me with a curious look in his eye as I approach him. “What are you playing at?” he asks from the corner of his mouth while Nash busies himself with choosing his next player. “You hate flag football.”

  “What are you talking about?” I look up at him, fluttering my eyelashes innocently as I push my glasses up my nose. “I love football …”

  “Flag football, Murph,” he reminds me with a warning look. “Flag!”

  I roll my eyes, dismissing his halfhearted caution with a brush of my hand. Smiling to myself all the while, I began imagining Anna’s flawless face being pushed into the mud by yours truly.

  ***

  Ten minutes into the game and Nash has the ball, laughing and dodging Harley’s defensive line, while I’m stuck on the sidelines because I’d been sent off for two minutes for tackling Taylor, one of Anna’s bridesmaids.

  Taylor had the ball, and she was running toward the makeshift end zone. I saw her flag flailing in her wake, and I should have grabbed it. But I didn’t. I’m not sure what I was thinking. Maybe that’s just it. Maybe I wasn’t thinking. All I knew was that I couldn’t let her score, and my natural instinct was to stop her, any way I could. So, snapping into action, I picked up speed, sprinting as fast as my short legs would allow. I was just lucky she wasn’t really putting in any effort; I’m pretty sure she was only playing in an attempt to be cute in front of the guys, because I somehow managed to catch up with her and, in an instant, without even thinking, I launched at her. And I mean launched. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders from behind so tight, my feet actually lifted off the ground.

  Our collision seemed to happen in slow motion as our bodies tumbled together, until Taylor fell to the ground in a pile of mud with me landing on top of her, my glasses flying right off my face. She pushed me off, screaming and crying. Apparently, she bit her tongue, but I doubt it was as bad as she was carrying on about since there was no sign of blood.

  So, while I wait on the sideline for my penalty time to count down, Taylor sits on the patio with a bag of frozen peas pressed against her chin, glaring daggers at me as if she’s hoping looks might actually kill.

  After an interception, we have the ball again, and Harley leads a huddle when he waves me back onto the field. I run toward the small group, sidling up next to him as he explains the play to the team. “Murph, this is your ball.” He looks at me. “You’re the shortest.”

  I stand as tall as I can, gaping at him with my hands on my hips. “Hey!”

  He offers an unapologetic smile. “Sorry, but you’ll get through Nash and Kevin without them being able to touch you.”

  I roll my eyes, submitting to my five-foot-three fate.

  Beth, Anna’s maid of honor, shoots me a warning glare as she steps back from the huddle. Folding her arms over her chest defiantly, she looks me up and down in disgust. “I am not playing with her.” She shakes her head. “She almost killed my best friend!”

  Killed? Bit dramatic. I try not to laugh out loud, looking to the ground as I bite back my smile.

  “It was an accident,” Harley says, trying to placate her. “Isn’t that right, Murph?” He nudges me with his elbow, and I glance up, trying so hard to remain poker-faced, but the absolute look of horror in Beth’s eyes makes it difficult. I mean, you’d think I actually did kill someone the way she’s looking at me.

  “Yeah.” I nod, pressing my lips together to stifle my threatening laughter. “Total accident.”

  Harley claps his hands together. “Win big, on three,” he shouts, holding a hand in the middle of the huddle. We each put our hands over his, and I watch Beth flash me a narrow-eyed glare as she reluctantly reaches in, her long, skinny fingers hovering over the top of mine.

  “One! Two! Three! Win big!” we yell in unison before breaking apart and taking our positions on the improvised field.

  Harley’s play consists of him faking a handoff to his friend, Seth. He then crosses to me, handing me the ball, and I tuck it under my arm, turning and checking my path before running with everything I have toward our end zone. I dodge Kevin, and then Nash, laughing when Nash slips on the grass and falls on his butt. I slip past Whitney, another of Anna’s blonde bridesmaids, but then, not looking where I’m going, I slide on a patch of mud, and I almost fall to the ground, stumbling unsteadily and fumbling the ball.

  “Go, baby!” I hear Nash yell from the other end of the yard.

  I turn to see Anna running for me, her blonde hair flapping in the breeze as she giggles and laughs, successfully dodging the mud before reaching for me, and I panic. I’m taken by complete surprise as she comes at me from my blindside, so of course my natural instinct is to throw an elbow out in defense. I was just trying to scare her off. I didn’t actually expect to connect with her. But I do connect with her. Hard. And poor, unsuspecting Anna crumbles to the ground in a heap, clutching her right eye and screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs.

  “Anna!” Nash runs toward us.

  Like a deer caught in the headlights of a rusted old Ford, I freeze, looking around to see everyone hurrying over, their eyes wide and their faces stark. Nash drops to his knees, carefully helping his fiancée from the mud as she continues bellowing while her bridesmaids crowd around her, pushing me out of the way a little aggressively.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” I try to apologize, but it’s pointless. No one is listening to me.

  “Let me have a look,” Nash says, gently cupping Anna’s face and taking a closer look to assess the damage.

  I crane my neck to see, finding the skin around her eye already red and swollen, and I take a step back, clamping my bottom lip between my teeth.

  “Can someone get some ice?” Nash yells.

  Anna continues crying.

  Under any other circumstance, I probably would laugh because, let’s face it, I didn’t even hit her that hard. But she has a wedding in six days. I can’t laugh. I’m not that callous. I feel bad—terrible, in fact—I didn’t mean to hurt the girl, I just got carried away. And this is why I never play sports.

  “Jesus, Murph!” Harley hisses coming up beside me. I look up to see him shaking his head at me while trying to conceal his smile.

  “I didn’t mean to,” I gasp. “It was an accident.”

  “If I have a black eye on my wedding day, I swear to God, I’m canceling the whole damn thing!” Anna sobs, absolutely beside herself with distress.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Nash conciliates her. “Let’s just sit down and put some ice on it. You’ll be fine.”

  I stand back, watching Nash help Anna as she staggers unsteadily, gripping his arm tight. He flashes me a look, one I can’t really read. I’m not sure if he’s angry with me, disappointed, or perhaps even sorry. Either way, it’s a look I’ve never seen in his eyes before, one that makes my stomach twist painfully in my gut.

  “Wow, that looks really bad!” Kevin laughs, coming in closer to get a look. Anna glares at him, and instinctively I whack him in his tactless belly in an attempt to silence him.

  I move quickly, running toward Anna and Nash as they head toward the patio steps. “Anna, I’m so sorry.” I reach out, touching her shoulder, but she flinches away from me.

  “Murph, just leave it!” Nash snaps, offering me a warning glance over his shoulder while shaking his head.

  I pull my hand back looking between the both of them. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I was—”

 
“You gave her a black eye!!” Beth is on me like a rabid dog, violently pushing me away before hurrying to help her best friend, following them as they disappear inside the house.

  As I stand there, covered in mud, feeling all eyes watching me as if I’m some kind of homicidal lunatic, I sigh, looking down to see that I’ve still got the damn football tucked under my arm.

  “Are you okay?” Harley asks, suddenly beside me again, his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently.

  I look up at him, nodding once. But I’m not okay. Because, the truth is there’s a really big part of me questioning whether or not I just threw my elbow on purpose with the intention of hurting Anna. But I can’t possibly tell Harley that. He already thinks I’m a complete psycho.

  ***

  Dressed in my pajamas, I relax on the sofa with a mug of herbal tea and the television remote. After a day like today I need some time to myself. Just me, my pajamas, and Netflix. But, of course, just as I get comfortable, my moment of peace is interrupted by an unexpected knock on the front door. Rolling my eyes, I groan in protest, feeling the day’s earlier football match in every one of my aching muscles as I hobble through to the hallway, stopping to open the door. When I see Nash standing on my porch, my eyebrows knit together in confusion.

  “Hey,” is all I can say, stepping aside and holding the door open for him in silent invitation.

  With his head bowed, Nash walks inside, coming to stop awkwardly in the small entry.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask, closing the door to stop the night breeze from blowing inside.

  “I just wanted to stop by and apologize for today,” he starts, meeting my eyes with an apologetic look. “Anna’s fine, and I didn’t want you feeling bad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you the way I did.”

  I immediately feel bad because what happened earlier hadn’t actually crossed my mind since I’d returned home from Harley’s. I mean, it’s not like I maimed her or anything.

  “Anna feels real bad for what happened today. How she acted,” he continues. “She doesn’t want things to be awkward between the two of you, and she’s spoken to her friends and told them to back off, too.”