Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  “Sorry,” she says through gritted teeth, flashing me an apologetic glance. “My ride’s here.” She stops at Harley, looking up at him and she slaps him a few times on his shoulder, looking back at me with a smug smile. “You better apologize. She is pissed!”

  “Goodnight, Sarah!” I snap, my voice warning.

  She giggles to herself on her way out, and I close my eyes a moment, making a mental note to fire her for the tenth time since she started with me only last year. With a sigh, I open my eyes to see Harley standing on the spot, looking to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but in my general direction as he nervously scratches the back of his neck before shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, it’s almost unbearable watching him avoiding me as awkwardly as possible. So, I cut him some slack and speak first. “I thought you had the rehearsal dinner tonight?”

  “I couldn’t make it,” he says with a shrug. “Someone called in sick,” he adds, not bothering to look at me.

  “So, what are you doing here?”

  He slowly lifts his head, removing his backward cap only to secure it on his head once more, looking from his feet to me, and although his face remains expressionless, the look in his eyes gives away the truth; he’s conflicted. I soften a little, unfolding my arms and clasping my hands together at my front as I lower my cocked brow. In return, he seems to relax, and I can see his shoulders sag, dropping at least an inch.

  “I’m sorry I left you,” he says with a rushed breath, as if the words alone offer him some semblance of relief.

  Without saying a word, I continue watching him, waiting, knowing there’s more.

  “What we did last night, it was … it was—” At an obvious loss for words, Harley averts his gaze, looking over my shoulder a moment as he obviously searches for a way to break it to me gently.

  Again, I help by speaking for him and finishing his sentence so as to lessen the blow for myself. “It was a mistake.”

  His eyes dart to mine, a slight furrow pulling between his brows as he studies me a moment, and I capture something in his gaze, something that makes my stomach twist with an emotion I’ve never felt before. Raking his teeth over his bottom lip, he finally nods, shrugging his left shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Harley. Don’t worry about it.” I shake my head, looking down at my clasped hands a moment to consider my words. “We can just pretend it never happened.” I cast a nervous glance at him, meeting his eyes with a hopefulness I hadn’t been expecting until now as the thought of truly losing him for good crosses my mind. “Can’t we?”

  And I realize something in that moment. As much as I’ve tried to deny it, as much as I didn’t want to believe it or admit the truth, as much as it pains me to admit how truly lonely I am, Harley Shaw really is all I have in this town. He’s not only my best friend, he’s my all. I can’t possibly lose him; the thought alone terrifies me.

  A heavy sigh falls from his lips, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he nods once again. “Sure, Murph. We can forget all about it.”

  This time it’s me sighing as I release the breath I’ve been holding, but I try and hide my relief as best as I can, not wanting to give myself away too easily. It’s not that pretending as if last night didn’t happen doesn’t sting worse than I ever could have been prepared for, but losing Harley would hurt a hell of a lot more. So, pushing my pride aside, I’d much rather have him as my friend than nothing at all.

  “I should get back to the bar.”

  I offer the most convincing smile I can, watching as he turns and reaches for the door. But then he pauses, looking at me over his shoulder. I raise my brows, waiting for whatever it is he has left to say, wondering just how much worse this whole thing can get.

  “This thing you made up about you and me,” he begins, looking me in the eye questioningly. “Our fake relationship,” he adds so quietly I almost miss it.

  Reluctantly I nod.

  He hesitates a moment. “It wasn’t all a lie, was it, Murph?”

  My heart drops deep into my belly as I stare into his knowing eyes and all the air in my lungs seems to escape me. My cheeks heat and the skin at the back of neck pricks as my heart thunders in my chest. I have no words. No words that won’t make me look like a total fool. So, I remain silent, momentarily looking down at my hands once again as I consider the fact that I really do have nothing left, and therefore, nothing left to lose. With a deep, shuddering breath, I meet his penetrating gaze, and all I can offer is a pathetic shrug of my shoulders and the semblance of a sheepish smile.

  He stands there, studying me a moment, and if I’m not mistaken, I can almost see the battle of emotions warring against one another inside his head. But it doesn’t last long before he nods once more with a tight-lipped smile before leaving, the glass door slamming heavily in his wake and echoing throughout the overwrought silence around me, reminding me just how empty I am.

  ***

  With a stifled yawn I unfold myself from the car, slinging my purse over my shoulder as I follow the path to the house. But when I make it up onto the front porch, something catches my eye in the darkness, and I shriek, stumbling backward when the rickety old porch swing moves causing the rusted chains to clang together.

  “Murph, it’s just me!”

  I narrow my eyes to see through the darkness of the night, and relief floods through me, calming my racing heart when Nash steps into the muted glow of the streetlight.

  “Jesus!” I gasp, clutching at my heaving chest. “You scared me half to death.” With a trembling hand, I unlock the front door and reach inside to flick the light switches, the porch illuminating immediately. But then I see the state Nash is in, his mussed hair, droopy eyes, and untucked Oxford, and even if he didn’t have an open can of Miller Lite in one hand and the remaining five hanging from the plastic in the other, I’d know he was three sheets to the wind.

  “You okay?” I ask, walking inside the house. “I thought you had the rehearsal dinner?”

  “We did,” is all he says, his voice hoarse.

  I’m fully aware of him following so close behind me, his unsteady feet scuffing against the hardwood as I continue through to the kitchen. I don’t know why, but something feels off. Why the hell is he even here? At my house. Drunk. Stopping at the island I take a deep breath before turning, but all the air is stolen from me when I come face-to-face with him right there, our chests almost touching.

  “N-Nash, I—” Stumbling to find the right words, I instinctively place a hand against his chest, holding him at bay. But unfortunately, he seems to take that as an advance, and he only takes another step closer. “W-what the hell are you d-doing?” I hiss, pushing him away with as much strength as I can find.

  He staggers ever so slightly, his sixer of beer falling to the floor with a heavy thud and a hissing fizz as one of the cans pops.

  “Dammit!” I hurry to the sink for the dishcloth before dropping to the floor and mopping up what I can.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you even doing here?” I yell, gaping up at him as I clean up the mess.

  With an almighty sigh, Nash collapses onto one of the stools, scrubbing a hand over his weary face. I can feel his dejection from across the room, and I pull myself up, tossing the exploded can and the dishcloth into the sink. Turning back to the island, I keep my distance as best as I can, watching him. And it’s right now that I realize just how broken he looks, and I know something is seriously wrong. I’m going to need a stiff drink if I’m going to deal with this tonight. In seconds, I’m prepared with a glass in one hand and a bottle of Jack in the other, and I pour myself a generous shot, unable to chance another look at him until I’m well and truly sated with liquor.

  “Nash, what’s going on?” I ask after downing my shot, pouring myself another, and just as I tip my head to throw it back, his bloodshot eyes meet mine and, after an unnecessarily long pause he says something I couldn’t have ever been prepared
to hear.

  “I want you back, Murph.”

  Chapter 29

  Silence rings true, and it’s one of those silences that makes your ears ring so loud it’s almost deafening. But then suddenly, whiskey is exploding out of my mouth, spraying all over the island counter, and drenching Nash in the process.

  “Y-you what?” I finally manage through a choked cough, my voice a few octaves higher than it normally is. My bulging eyes scan his face for some semblance of humor, because he has got to be joking. He has to be. But blue eyes stare at back me and, sadly, there is nothing but a somewhat innocent seriousness in them as they implore me with a look of hopeful desperation.

  “Nash?” I try to laugh, try to make light of the situation, but it’s awkward and uncomfortable, and I really just want it to be over. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

  He continues watching me, and I close my eyes tight, shaking my head, trying to make sense of everything as I take another swig of liquor straight from the bottle this time. “You’re getting married.” I laugh incredulously, waving a flustered hand through the air. “Tomorrow!” I splutter, wiping whiskey droplets from my chin.

  Nash buries his head in his hands, groaning as if he’s in the most unimaginable, unbearable pain. “I know.”

  I watch his fingers tear painfully through his mop of hair as he shakes his head, murmuring a string of incomprehensible curse words, and something tells me there’s a lot more to his ridiculous declaration of wanting me back. I hesitate a moment before walking around the island, and when I finally reach him, I place a tentative hand on his shoulder, not sure whether or not I might be overstepping a line. “Nash?”

  Hesitating momentarily, he lifts his head to look at me.

  “What’s really going on?” I ask softly as I take a seat on the stool beside him.

  “Everything is so shit, Murph,” he says with a scowl as he glares down at his can of beer on the counter. “Nothing feels right anymore.”

  I watch him, waiting for him to continue as he picks at a tile on the countertop.

  “It kills me to see you so happy with him. It kills me to see y’all so damn happy.”

  Him? Harley? At the mention of him and our apparent happiness, my heart sinks a little in my chest because if Nash really knew the truth then I’m not sure he’d even understand, let alone ever forgive me. So I remain silent.

  “Hell,” he says with a derisive scoff of disgust, “I even had a damn fight with him this morning because I heard y’all having sex last night and it drove me fuckin’ insane.”

  My cheeks heat, but my embarrassment is fleeting and almost immediately forgotten when I realize what he’s just said. “Wait. You had a fight? With Harley? This morning?”

  Nash nods, closing his eyes tight, and I can see how full of regret he is. “I pushed him, and I would’ve knocked him out, but Kevin and Seth pulled us apart.”

  I almost laugh. Nash even thinking he might knock Harley out is hilarious. Harley has at least six inches over him and a good twenty pounds. But then I think back to this morning when Harley wouldn’t even look at me and Nash was on the beach by himself, and any hint of laughter inside me fades. Harley and Nash fought while I was still blissfully asleep. I guess that explains why Harley left me in bed, left me in South Carolina. I’m angry, but I also feel responsible; it’s all because of this godforsaken lie. My lie. And the worst part of all is that that stupid lie worked. I made Nash jealous enough that he’s here on the eve of his wedding telling me he wants me back.

  But my lie also caused two lifelong friends to fight, and I hate myself for causing that, and I just know I need to come clean. I know I need to be honest, but if I tell Nash the truth now, then he could hate Harley even more for lying to him. And he’ll hate me. I’ve really become tangled within my own web of lies.

  “Nash, can I ask you something?”

  His eyes meet mine and he nods.

  “Do you love Anna?”

  Without even a moment’s hesitation he nods again.

  “And do you want to marry her?”

  He nods again, a little slower this time, looking down at his empty beer can, twisting the ring pull until it pops off.

  “So what’s the problem?” I shrug when he looks at me. “Where do I come into it?”

  He sighs an almighty sigh, his shoulders rising and falling so heavily as he buries his head in his hands once more. “It’s just being back here. My home. Seeing you and Harley together, laughing. It just reminds me of everything I don’t have no more. I miss it. I miss you. I miss Harley. I miss this damn place.”

  I press my lips together and, sigh with a small smile when it suddenly all starts to make sense. I gently squeeze his arm, causing him to look at me again with a slight furrow of confusion pulling between his brows. “Nash, you don’t want me back.” I shake my head with a small laugh, and he looks at me, studying my face for a long moment as he considers my words. “I just remind you of everything: the good, the bad, how things used to be. I remind you of home.”

  After a palpable silence, he releases a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging as relief seems to wash over him. A small, sheepish smile begins to tug at his lips as he looks down to where my hand is touching his forearm and, without meeting my eyes, he takes my hand in his, squeezing it tight. “You’re right,” he says, his hoarse voice hushed. “Ever since I’ve been back here I’ve been plagued by all these old memories. Of my dad. Of you and me. How you always were there for me. How you saved me. I thought everything would still be the same coming back here, but it’s all different. And I miss it.”

  He turns my hand in his, his thumb tracing the emerald ring I’ve been wearing ever since my momma passed away. It was her grandmother’s and, one day, maybe I’ll have a daughter of my own to pass it on to.

  “But you have your new life now, Nash.” I smile. “You have Anna, and med school. Soon you’re gonna be a doctor. You’re gonna go off and do so many incredible things. I’ll always be here. So will Harley. But, now … Now it’s time for us all to live our own lives. Wherever that might be.”

  “Is it weird if I say I think I’ll always love you?” His voice quavers with a fragility I also feel deep down in the murkiness of the great unknown, settling in my belly.

  I’m quick to shake my head. “I think it would be weird to say otherwise. You and me, we’ll always have something special.”

  He squeezes my hand once again, but this time he lifts it to his lips and closes his eyes as he places a soft kiss to the back. And, with another stammered breath, he sits up a little straighter, letting go of my hand before looking down at himself. With a soft chuckle, he shakes his head, flashing me a mischievous smirk. “Do you think I could go clean up before I order an Uber to take me back to Harrington’s?”

  I look at the whiskey splatter marks staining the front of his white Oxford and I laugh with a nod. “Sure. You can go up and use my bathroom. Actually, I have an old T-shirt of yours in the second drawer of my dresser.”

  He goes to move before pausing, flashing me a sideways glance, one of his brows slightly quirked. “You kept my old T-shirt?”

  I realize what I’ve said and again, my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but what’s the point of lying now? I’ve already humiliated myself enough. “Yes. And I slept in it every night after we broke up.”

  His eyes widen momentarily, but then he laughs—a real honest-to-goodness laugh—unexpectedly pulling me into a warm embrace. His strong arms hold me tight and I wrap mine around his waist as I smile against his chest. And, for what feels like the first time in forever, I breathe him in.

  Idly wiping the countertop while Nash is upstairs getting himself cleaned up, I find myself thinking back to what Harley had said on his way out of the store earlier. The look in his eyes deeply contradicted the nearly nonexistent smile on his face. He’s always been a closed book. So hard to read. He never gives himself away. He’d asked if this week had all been a lie and I was honest with him. In
not so many words I’d told him the truth. In fact, I think I was being honest with myself for the first time in a long while. This whole week hasn’t been a complete lie. Maybe I should call him and try to explain myself a little better. Maybe he could stop by after he closes up the bar. I could finally talk to him. Tell him the whole truth. Tell him how I really feel. But what the hell would I say? Where on earth would I even start?

  I’m pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the front door.

  What the hell? I glance at the clock to see that it’s almost eleven.

  “Nash, did you order your Uber already?” I yell up in the direction of my bedroom as I pass the stairs on my way to the entry, but he doesn’t answer me.

  Expecting to see some angry Uber driver waiting impatiently on my porch, I reluctantly pull open the front door, but I’m caught off-guard at the sight of Harley standing there. With his head bowed down, his hands tucked deep into the front pockets of his jeans, he slowly looks up, his eyes finding mine through the dim light of the porch lamp.

  “Harley?” I gasp, not believing my own eyes.

  “Hey,” he murmurs, pressing his lips together in the slightest hint of a smile.

  “W-what are you doing here?”

  Taking a tentative step closer, he takes a hand from his pocket, scratching the back of his neck, so obviously battling with his words. My eyes take him in from his head to his toes, but when I find him looking at me in a way I hadn’t been expecting, my heart leaps in my chest, skipping at least a few beats. The way he’s looking at me. I’ve never seen such an emotion in his eyes. And from the way he’s looking at me now, to the memory of the way in which he looked at me back at the bakery, I know straight away, he feels it too, and I can’t help but bite back the threatening smile, as my stomach somersaults deep inside of me.