Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  I nod, and as I’m saying the words, it’s as if I’m just realizing how much I truly do love my life here. Sure, I could’ve gone back to New York after Momma passed. And I could have lived the life I’d always dreamed of: college and then some big, fancy job in the city. But I’m here now, and I’ve made this life for myself that might not be big-city glamorous, but it’s mine, and I’m happy here, even without Nash.

  “That’s the problem.” He laughs to himself, but his laugh is derisive. “I don’t know if I like all these changes. I miss the old days …” He flashes me a guilty look, and I suddenly feel very awkward as the air between us shifts, the meaning behind his words not so hidden. “Can I ask you a question?”

  I nod, reluctantly.

  “Do you love Harley?” he asks with little to no emotion, the look in his eyes the only thing giving away how desperate he is to know the answer. His question knocks the wind out of me, rendering me breathless, and I find myself unable to move, just staring at him, not even blinking. But then he chuckles softly, shaking his head at me. “Do you want another drink?” he asks, changing the topic of conversation before finishing his glassful with one big mouthful, hopping up from his chair.

  I’ve barely even touched my glass of champagne, and I had planned on heading home, and after his question, I probably should, but I don’t. “Yeah.” I manage a smile. “But, can I have a beer, instead?” I ask, holding my glass out for him to take. “This tastes like pee.”

  “Yeah. You’re right.” Nash chuckles, taking my glass and carelessly tossing the contents over the balcony railing before heading back inside.

  Somehow, time manages to get away from us. Before I know it, we’re three beers in, talking and laughing together about some of the stupid things we did when we were kids. The heaviness of our earlier conversation is otherwise forgotten, and it’s just the two of us again. Nash and Murph. And, for the moment, I look beyond the button-down shirt, and the neatly pressed khakis, and I see my best friend.

  Nash’s hyena-like laughter dwindles to a small chuckle, trailing off as he looks down to the can of beer in his hand. “Do you remember that night? Summer before senior year, when Harley made us go with him to that field party and you got drunk for the first time?”

  I catch sight of the knowing grin ghosting over his lips, and immediately I can feel my cheeks flush.

  “Remember?” he teases, nudging me with his elbow. “We were drinking these.” He holds his can up in the air as if to prove a point, but there’s no point to be made. I know exactly what night he’s referring to. My eyes glaze over at the memory, and my skin heats from the base of my neck, upward to my cheeks. I duck my head in an attempt to hide my traitorous smile. But, from the way his eyes are watching me, to the hint of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth, I know he knows exactly what he’s doing to me reminding me of that night.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” I hissed, ducking beneath the low-hanging branches of the overgrown willow trees scattered throughout the darkness. Nash held my hand tight, leading the way. He glanced over his shoulder, flashing me a lopsided grin in response to my protest. “Nash, if Momma finds out I’m drunk in a field somewhere, instead of at the movies like I told her, she’s g-gonna kill m-me,” I hiccupped.

  “Shh,” Nash hissed with a chuckle, pulling me with him through the wispy long grass that came up to our chests. “We’re almost there.”

  The sound of the field party we’d snuck away off from was now nothing more than a murmured whisper caught in the gentle night breeze. We were alone. Just me, Nash and the crickets chirping in the wild grass surrounding us.

  “Here it is,” Nash said, his voice hushed so as not to disturb the peaceful still of the night surrounding us.

  I looked up just as we made it to the clearing and, as he had promised me in his ploy to get me out here, I was left speechless. The beautiful vision laid out before me was awe-inspiring, like nothing I’d ever seen before. The inky night sky was brilliant as it loomed high above, making the stars seem as if they went on forever. The clearing was surrounded by the darkened woods, the tall pines illuminated by the fireflies flickering in the darkness.

  “Wow,” I whispered, fearing my voice might take away from the breathtaking sight. Looking around with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, I tried to take it all in at once, but it was overwhelming to say the least.

  Feeling Nash’s eyes on me, I turned to look at him with a smile. “You were right. This is beautiful.”

  He nodded. “Whenever I wanna be alone, or if I just need time to think,” he began, “this is where I come.”

  “It feels as if we’re a million miles away from the rest of the world.” I looked up to the sky. It was so big, so expansive, it made me dizzy, and I almost lost my balance, but Nash steadied me, moving behind me. I could feel his warmth as he closed the distance between us. His chest pressed against my back, his arms coming around my waist. Resting his chin on my shoulder, his soft breath fanned over the skin at the base of my neck causing me to shiver despite the warm night air. My skin erupted in goose bumps, and I knew Nash could tell because his breathing changed and his hands gripped my hips a little tighter.

  “You make me so happy, Murph,” he whispered, his lips barely grazing the shell of my ear. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

  My eyelashes fluttered, my eyes closing involuntarily, and I basked a little in the wake of his words, smiling when he pressed a lingering kiss to my shoulder.

  “Hey, look at me.”

  Turning in his arms, I stumbled a little, silently cursing the beers I’d consumed against my better judgment. I was drunk. Or at least, I had been only a moment ago. But there, looking into Nash’s imploring eyes, I became lost within his gaze. I saw something I’d never seen before, and a soberness came over me. It was as if my mind was trying to tell me that I was going to want to remember this moment.

  Nash smiled, his eyes moving between mine, zeroing in on my mouth before capturing my gaze once again. He lifted his hand, tucking my hair behind my ear so tenderly, his touch alone burning into my skin. “I need to tell you something,” he said, the tip of his tongue gliding out just enough to dampen his lips, and my heart stammered in my chest, watching him, waiting.

  “What is it?” I asked, my brows pulling together in a combination of anticipation and confusion. I wanted to know, desperately, but I was also afraid of what he might say, because I knew, no matter what, his words were about to change everything.

  He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I love you.”

  In that instant, it felt as if all the air had been stolen from my lungs. I was breathless in a way I’d never been breathless before. From the sincere and slightly frightened look in his eyes, to the sentiment of his declaration, I was absolutely beside myself as a plethora of emotion consumed me from the inside out. I had been in love with Nash Harris for years. Maybe even since we were 9 years old. He was my first love. I’d given him everything: my first kiss, my virginity, my heart and soul. I loved him more than I ever knew it was possible to love another person. And now, he loved me, too. He’d said so himself. My smile got the better of me. As did the tears pricking at the backs of my eyes.

  “Are you crying?” he chuckled, nudging me playfully.

  I ducked my head, burying my face into the crook of his neck, feeling his laughter as it rumbled through him, causing his chest to vibrate against mine. With a fortifying breath, I forced myself to look up, meeting his eyes, and he offered a small, knowing smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to my forehead. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers raking their way up into his hair so I could guide him closer, our foreheads touching. For a moment we just stood there, in the center of the clearing, with nothing but the crickets and the fireflies keeping us company. Just us beneath a blanket of stars. It was a perfect moment. The best moment.

  “I love you, too,” I whispered, breathing him in and looking deep into his eyes, searching them. “But I have a feeling yo
u knew that a long time ago.”

  He smiled, ducking in closer until his lips finally brushed against mine in a kiss so all-consuming, I knew I would remember it for the rest of my life.

  I look up from the beer can in my hands. The memory of that night alone brings a faraway smile to my face, butterflies swarming low in my belly. But when I find Nash watching me intently, his blue eyes a little dazed, something passes between us. The air around us shifts, thick with a tension that isn’t awkward or uncomfortable, just obvious and quite possibly a little inappropriate. My heart stammers in the center of my chest, and I’m almost sure he can hear it.

  “I’ll never forget that night,” Nash says in a whisper so soft I almost miss it.

  And it’s right at that moment that I realize just how much closer we’ve become in the last few minutes. He’s leaning into me and I into him, the distance that had been between us is long gone, and we’re in dangerous territory. My eyes flit between his, watching them darken right before me, and I’m completely overwhelmed by everything. The beer. The memories. The scent of his cologne which, even after all these years, remains the same. It’s as if we’re right back in that clearing, just the two of us, and it feels as if everything is about to change, and my stomach clenches.

  “Yes,” I find myself whispering without even realizing.

  Nash’s brows knit together as his eyes move between mine, ducking down to my lips and back again. “Yes, what?” he asks, his voice broken and hushed.

  I inhale a stammering breath, my tongue dipping out to wet my suddenly dry lips.

  “Yes what, Murph?” he presses, inching even closer.

  And, at that, I pull back enough to break myself free of the hold I know he has on me, coming to my senses as best as I can, knowing this is the only way to stop whatever the hell it is we’re about to do. “Yes.” I nod, clearing my throat free of the uncertainty that’s wedged its way at the back. “Y-yes, I love Harley.”

  I watch as a sharp intake of breath causes his shoulders to stiffen, watching as he is so clearly taken aback by my words. And, for a long minute, we just sit there, staring at one another, neither of us breaking away, and it’s almost like a moment of clarity, for the both of us, whether we like it or not.

  “Nash?”

  We both jump at the sound of Nash’s name being called from inside. I pull away as far as my chair will allow, almost toppling sideways, my cheeks heating and my heart racing so fast as I try to regain what little composure I have left. Nash’s eyes remain on me as he curses unintelligibly under his breath. He seems reluctant, deliberating within himself before finally pushing up from his chair, taking a moment to smooth down the front of his shirt. Raking his fingers through his hair, he huffs out an exasperated breath before stepping around me without so much as a second glance, disappearing inside.

  “I threw up in the bed,” Anna cries from inside, her voice raspy and a little desperate. “Where were you?”

  “I’m s-sorry, baby,” Nash stammers, but the loving tone in his voice makes my stomach drop and twist painfully. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. Come on,” he continues. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

  I wait outside on the balcony, listening for a door to close before moving. Hurrying as quietly as I can, I tiptoe past the bedroom, through the suite, making a beeline for the door. Things just went from zero to one hundred real quick, and I can’t even deal with it right now. I need to get the hell out of here. Not only does the future of Nash and Anna’s relationship depend on it, but I have a feeling the entire future of mine and Nash’s friendship depends on it, too.

  Chapter 17

  I didn’t sleep well when I got home. In fact, I only slept about three hours. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see Nash’s face. His lips, right there, just as they had been, dangerously close, before Anna had woken up and interrupted whatever the hell it was we were about to do in that moment. My mind kept flashing back to that one instant, when Nash’s lips had been less than a hair’s breadth from my own. When he’d been looking at me in a way he shouldn’t be looking at me. When I’d told him, point blank, that I do love Harley, just so I could put a stop to whatever it was that was about to happen between the two of us right at that moment.

  But all I could wonder is if that’s the only reason I’d said it. And, most confusing of all, when I did eventually drift off, I’d had a horrible dream. I was at a wedding. Not Nash and Anna’s wedding, but mine and Harley’s. I was dressed in a bright pink wedding dress with poufy sleeves, and just as we were about to kiss as husband and wife, Harley turned to me, pointed a finger at me and called me a whore. The wedding guests chased me out of the church, throwing wedding cake at me as I ran. I woke with a start. My skin was dripping with sweat, I was breathless like I’d just ran a half-marathon, and I was so consumed with confusion and guilt, I couldn’t think straight as I tried so hard to make sense of everything.

  Hours later, and it’s still only four in the morning. The sun hasn’t even begun to rise yet. I’ve been staring up at the ceiling, watching the shadows cast from the trees outside my bedroom dance around the room for what feels like forever. But I’ve lain here long enough, allowing myself to get carried away with the confusing and conflicting thoughts consuming my mind while tossing and turning, and it’s driving me crazy. So, I force myself to get up, get showered and dressed, and get to the store super early.

  I’m seriously behind with Nash and Anna’s wedding cake, so the extra few hours should help kick my butt into gear. Normally I’m much more prepared, but my head has been all over the place the last few days, and last night spent reminiscing with Nash about the old days, remembering how in love with one another we truly were, and my dream about Harley haven’t helped at all. Maybe a day spent locked in the kitchen is just what I need to help to take my mind off everything, even if I am making a cake for the love of my life’s wedding to someone else.

  As I wait for the oven to chime, I allow my mind to wander back to last night, to the moment Nash inched so incredibly close to me there was barely enough room between the two of us to allow for a breath. Would I have kissed him back if he’d tried? I’d like to think I wouldn’t do that … that I have more respect for myself, and for Anna—but, after everything I’ve done this week so far, I’m seriously beginning to doubt my own integrity.

  As I stand here watching the timer, deliberating with myself over whether or not I would have kissed a soon-to-be married man, my mind flashes to Harley and what feels like guilt begins to twist low in my belly, and I don’t know why. What is wrong with me? I wanted Nash back. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to be the one he chose, then, when he almost does, I do a complete one-eighty and I don’t even know why. I feel physically sick as the timer on the oven dings, echoing through the kitchen and pulling me from my thoughts. But I force myself to forget about Nash for the time being, and I keep my traitorous mind busy while the cakes cool, whipping up buttercream frosting for the crumb coat, and a dark chocolate ganache for the filling.

  I’ve just finished frosting the three layers when I look up, surprised to see that it’s beginning to fall dark outside. I’ve been at it all day. In between the crucial stages of Nash and Anna’s cake, I’ve kept myself busy making a whole batch of blue and pink cupcakes for a baby shower. I placed orders for supplies, paid a few bills, served my regular customers—I did just about anything to keep my mind occupied and off two particular men and the fact that I’m about to see both of them at The End Zone.

  I’ve been dreading it all day for two reasons. I’m terrified to see Nash after our encounter last night because I know we really need to talk about everything that’s going on between us. But, on the other hand, I rack my brain with what I might possibly say so as not to sound like a complete and utter idiot. I’m almost ninety-nine percent certain he was going to kiss me on the balcony. But, what if by that one percent chance I’m wrong? What if it had all been a figment of my imagination, made up in my slightly intoxicated m
ind?

  I sigh heavily, checking the time on the clock as I remove my apron. I’m late. And, to top it all off, I look like crap and I don’t even have time to go home and change. So, I freshen up as best as I can in the tiny bathroom I share with the Burt’s Butcher next door. After twisting my hair up into a messy knot on top of my head, I wipe my face with a cleansing towelette before adding a sweeping of pink lip gloss and a few strokes of mascara to help brighten up the tired eyes beneath my glasses. Looking down at myself, I cringe. I’m wearing overalls, for God’s sake. I could pass as a damn janitor. Cursing under my breath, I brush at the dusting of flour from down the front before shrugging in resignation. There isn’t much more I can do about my current state and, besides, it’s only The End Zone.

  Securing the long strap of my purse over my shoulder, I cross the road and continue up the sidewalk until I come to a stop outside Harley’s bar. For a Wednesday it’s relatively busy. I walk up the few steps and head through the open saloon doors to see most of the tables occupied with all eyes intently glued to the baseball game playing on every one of the television screens. I linger in the entryway scanning the entire space, my eyes zeroing in on a familiar blonde standing by the pool tables toward the back. The same blonde who currently has Nash’s hands all over her while she giggles like an obnoxious schoolgirl. Strangely enough, though, it doesn’t bother me like I expect. It just frustrates me, and I have no idea what that’s about.

  “Great,” I hiss under my breath nowhere near as mentally prepared for tonight as I need to be.

  As I make my way to a booth occupied by Nash’s groomsmen, Kevin and Seth, I pause, finding Anna’s bridesmaids standing by the jukebox, eyeing me dubiously and sniggering between themselves. Of course, they’re all dressed up as if they’re headed to some exclusive New York City hotspot. Beth’s dress is covered in sequins and barely conceals her butt. And here I am in overalls and my trusty old Converse. But we’re in Graceville, Georgia. Not the Meatpacking District or some equally trendy Manhattan neighborhood.