Where We Belong

“Anna, babe, this is Harley Shaw, he’s—”

“My boyfriend.” I find myself stepping forward without missing a beat, surprising not only myself with my completely fabricated and obviously blatant lie, but Harley and Nash as well, each of them gaping at me as an awkward silence settles between us. But, I don’t stop there. I reach up and touch Harley’s arm, trailing my hand down to his, intertwining our fingers together as I smile at Anna.

“Wait … What?” Nash gapes incredulously, looking from me to Harley and back again.

I swallow hard, trying desperately to keep my cool, but I can feel Harley tense up beside me. I look up and meet his eyes. His jaw clenches beneath his lightly stubbled skin and he flashes me a warning look, his green eyes glaring.

“Wait,” Anna speaks up, laughing to herself. “You two are together?” she shrieks in absolute joy. I look at her, my smile faltering at her reaction, and it takes all I have not to tell her to shut the hell up as she cuddles up to Nash, clutching a hand to her heaving chest. “That is so adorable!”

My teeth grit together and I try so hard to return her smile, but she really is impossible not to outwardly cringe at.

“So, Wait. I-Is this— is this actually a thing?” Nash asks, looking between Harley and me, his smile a little forced if the look in his eyes is anything to go by.

I grasp Harley’s hand so hard, squeezing it a little too tight as if he’s my only lifeline, and I pray he’ll just go along with whatever it is I’m doing. I don’t even know what that is, but I hope like hell he’ll just play along. I look up at him with an imploring gaze full of desperation and he meets my eyes momentarily, swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. “Uh—” A sound similar to that of a strangled laugh comes out of him, and he shakes his head before looking at Nash. “Y-yeah.” He presses his lips together in the semblance of a smile, this time offering me an unexpectedly doting glance so unlike him it almost makes me laugh out loud.

Good job, Harley.

“We’re … t-together,” he says, clearing his throat a little at the end as if his own words leave a bad taste in his mouth. “We’re together,” he says again with a little more conviction.

“So cute.” Anna smiles, flashing me a wink I’m assuming is her way of telling me she thinks she and I are kindred spirits of some sort. We’re not. At all.

“Huh,” Nash muses out loud, looking at the two of us with the hint of a confused smile lingering on his lips, one that reflects the bewilderment in his eyes. He seems to be considering something, studying us, and I try so hard to look happier than I’ve ever been while holding Harley’s arm tight to stop my buckling knees from bringing me crashing to the floor. Thankfully, before any more can be said—before I can think of some other elaborate lie to announce out of the blue—a waiter arrives at our table with a tray of canapés, and everyone finds their designated seats.

As I take my seat beside Harley, I can feel a thousand questions radiating from him as he offers me a sideways glance full of trepidation. And the whole time I can feel Nash’s eyes watching me too, assessing me from across the table. But I ignore them both. Instead, I pretend to be oblivious, busying myself with pouring a glass of wine from the carafe in the middle of the table. I’ve never been more desperate for a drink before in all my life. I need to get drunk. Because at least if I can get drunk enough, I can blame the alcohol for my night of unfathomable decisions.

Chapter 5

I swear, I’ve never sat through a more awkward dinner in my whole life. The entire time Nash was watching Harley and me like a hawk. He was pretending not to, quickly turning his attention to Anna or the dinner plate in front of him if I caught his penetrating gaze, but it was so obvious. And I couldn’t help but take that as a good sign. He was clearly curious and confused, but could he actually be jealous?

“We need to talk,” Harley whispers from the corner of his mouth.

“I know,” I mutter back with a tight-lipped smile, avoiding his eyes and focusing intently on my pasta Alfredo.

“What the hell is this all about, Murph?” he hisses so low I’m sure I’m the only one who can hear him.

I look at him, noticing his jaw clenched even tighter despite his smile that looks so obviously forced, the way he’s watching me, waiting for some kind of explanation that I just don’t have. And, at that moment, I can see from the corner of my eye Nash is still watching us with piqued interest he’s so clearly trying to conceal.

I find myself softening as I turn to Harley, cocking my head to the side with a small smile. “We can talk.” I stare directly into his green eyes, which are so dark they’re almost olive, and, for Nash’s benefit only, I reach my hand up, tenderly cupping his cheek as I whisper, “Later. I promise.”

Harley’s eyes widen, and I can see him inhale a sharp breath at my unexpected touch. I have no doubt he wants to kill me for putting him in such a predicament. I can almost feel his skin crawl beneath my fingertips, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at just how messed-up this entire situation is.

“Good evening, everyone.”

I turn away from Harley to see Anna standing from her chair, her beautiful, effervescent smile lighting up her face as she looks around at everyone seated at the table.

“Thank you all so much for coming to our makeshift engagement dinner.” She glances down at Nash, smiling that same adoring smile before continuing. “Everything happened so fast. One minute we were dating, the next Nash was on one knee in front of me, asking me to be his wife. So, since everything has been so rushed, we thought we’d get everyone together to start the beginning of our wedding week and celebrate our engagement,” she squeals, excitedly clapping her hands together as the rest of the party surrounding the table cheers.

I hide my scowl as best as I can, taking a few unladylike gulps of wine from my glass.

“I’ve asked my maid of honor, Beth—” Anna pauses, smiling at a just as blonde, just as beautiful woman sitting at the opposite end of the table “—and Nash’s best man, Harley—” she stops once more to acknowledge Harley, before continuing “—to say a few words tonight. To introduce themselves and get the party started. So, Harley?” She nods across the table to him. “If you’d like to say something, that would be wonderful.”

Harley clears his throat, wiping his mouth with his napkin before casting me a sideways glance as he hesitantly stands from his chair. I take another drink of my wine, looking across to where Anna is giggling quietly with Nash as he presses a tender kiss to her cheek. My teeth grit together at their display of affection, so hard my jaw begins to ache.

“Hey, everyone.” Harley waves a nervous hand in the air. “I-I’m Harley Shaw. Nash’s oldest and therefore best friend.” He flashes me a smug smirk while everyone who knows us chuckles, and I roll my eyes, continuing to drown my secret sorrows with wine.

“Nash and I first met in the sandpit in Kindergarten. He was crying because he’d peed his pants and he didn’t want to tell the teacher in case the other kids made fun of him.”

Everyone at the table roars with laughter, and I look across to see Nash’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. He holds his glass of scotch in the air, nodding at Harley in mock appreciation.

Harley chuckles. “No, but seriously, I could stand up here and embarrass the hell out of my best friend with all the stories I have.” He casts Nash a knowing smirk. “But then what would I talk about at the wedding reception?” Again, the party guests laugh. “I can tell you one story, though. This one isn’t embarrassing, or particularly funny, but it sure is proof that Nash Harris might just be the greatest guy around.”

Everyone settles in, watching Harley as he continues.

“We were 16. And those who know me and Nash know that when it comes to fathers we were both dealt a pretty … lousy hand.” He pauses, this time raising his glass at Nash, and Nash nods in understanding, something passing between the two of them and only the two of them. Harley takes a deep breath, continuing, “My father has always been a drunk. Hell, he still is. He used to come to my football games and stand on the sidelines drunk as sin, cursing at the top of his lungs, making a damn fool of himself and embarrassing me.”

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.