About the Author

With big dreams of being a published author since she was an 11-year-old girl writing Beverly Hills 90210 fan fiction before fan fiction was even a thing, SHANN McPHERSON has been writing angsty, contemporary romances for most of her thirty-something years.

Living in sunny Queensland, Australia, when she’s not writing Shann enjoys making memories with her husband and cheeky toddler son, drinking wine, and singing completely off-key to One Direction’s entire discography.

Where We Belong
SHANN McPHERSON

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2020

Copyright © Shann McPherson

Shann McPherson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © February 2020 ISBN: 9780008381967

Version: 2019-12-31

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Acknowledgments

Dear Reader …

Keep Reading …

About the Publisher

For Niall

Chapter 1

I push my glasses up my nose for the millionth time, and while holding my breath and with one eye narrowed, I wipe a tiny smudge of frosting from the silver turntable holding Mr. and Mrs. Robertson’s fiftieth wedding anniversary cake. It may have taken me two full days and most of last night, but I’ve finally finished. Exhaling the breath I’ve been holding for a beat too long, I take a step back to really appreciate my craftsmanship. Four layers of lemon and blueberry perfection, covered in a fluffy whipped buttercream frosting, decorated with beautiful red roses, delicate peonies, and a smattering of baby’s breath, all of which have been hand-piped by yours truly.

I place a hand on my hip, smiling proudly. “Alice Murphy, once again you’ve outdone yourself,” I whisper under my breath, mentally high-fiving myself.

The bell above the door to the shop jingles, pulling me from my musings, and I walk through from the kitchen to the front of the store, still smiling at the thought of my latest masterpiece.

“Welcome to Piece O’ Cake,” I sing in a cheerful customer service voice. “How can I help yo—” Stopping dead in my tracks, my eyes go wide as I gawp at the unexpected figure standing in the middle of the shop. He’s shadowed by the afternoon sun shining in through the windows, backlighting him to nothing more than a darkened silhouette, and I blink hard, unsure whether or not I’m imagining things. But then he speaks. And I would know that voice anywhere. This is definitely not my imagination playing tricks on me.

“Hey, Murph.” The shadow takes a step forward, coming in to the glow of the overhead lights, and I’m immediately enamored by that all-too-familiar grin.

“N-Nash?” I gasp.

His smile is bright and those eyes. I’d remember those eyes anywhere after spending such a big part of my life dreaming about them.

“Oh my God!” I scream, covering my mouth with trembling hands until I finally come to, ripping off my apron before practically throwing myself over the counter. Jumping up, I wrap my arms around his neck, and emotion gets the better of me as I stand there in the familiarity of his warm embrace with tears of happiness streaming down my cheeks.

He’s here.

The love of my life.

He’s home.

***

The May sun simmers gently upon my shoulders. Birds chirp in sync, their chorus singing through the air. Butterflies flutter aimlessly, whisked away by the gentle breeze. And, in the distance, a child is giggling full of an infectious happiness that I can feel through to my soul. I can’t possibly wipe the smile from my face. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Nash Harris is actually here, by my side, as we walk beneath the canopy of the lush magnolia trees. The moment couldn’t be any more perfect.

“What are you doing here?” I ask incredulously, my cheeks stinging from smiling so hard.

“I wanted to see you.” Nash stops, turning to me and pulling my hands into his. “Actually, Murph, I needed to see you.”

I look up at him, our eyes meeting as his thumbs gently stroke the backs of my fingers. But when I catch sight of something unfamiliar in his gaze, something unsettling, my heart sinks a little in my chest. I know Nash. Something is wrong. He continues smiling that same beautiful smile, but I can see it in his eyes.

“Nash, what’s wrong?” I ask, suddenly worried. Is he in trouble? Oh, God. Is he sick? I wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to him. Not to my Nash.

“I’m fine, Murph.” He shakes his head once with a light chuckle, dismissing my concerns, and then, letting go of one of my hands, he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, causing my eyes to widen of their own accord. For a moment my mind begins to get carried away with itself. Between the chirping birds and the fluttering butterflies, the beautiful warm sun, and the backdrop of the inky river reflecting the fluffy white clouds in the sky, it’s all too perfect. And, as he reaches into his pocket, I begin to wonder if Nash Harris is about to drop to one knee and make all my dreams come true.

The realization that Nash doesn’t have a ring box in his hand snaps me from my reverie. Instead, he presents me with an envelope. And not just any old plain white Staples envelope, but a sparkly gold one, made of real fancy paper. My brows pull together in confusion as I look back up at him, meeting his eyes once again.

“What is this?” I ask, tentatively taking it from him. But he doesn’t answer. He just takes a step back, letting go of my other hand and scratching at his lightly stubbled jaw as he watches me, waiting. He’s nervous. So am I. And, right now, I almost wish something was wrong with him, because I have a terrible sinking feeling in my belly that whatever this is, I am not going to like it one bit.

I lift the tab with my index finger and pull out a single piece of card. Looking closer, I push my glasses up my nose, and it takes my eyes a while to adjust to the dim light of the shadows cast by the overhead trees. But then I manage to read the words embossed into the card in my hand, and in that moment, it feels as if my whole world comes crashing down around me.

Mr. and Mrs. Howard E. Hutchins request the pleasure of your company …

I stare at it—the invitation—reading the words over and over again as a painful ball of emotion wedges itself into the back of my throat. Suddenly I find it difficult to breathe. “W-what is this?” I finally ask, trying so hard to keep my voice from quavering. I glance up with a tight smile I know doesn’t even come close to reaching my eyes. “You … You’re getting m-married?”

Nash nods slowly, the ghost of an uncertain smile playing on his lips.

A flush heats my cheeks, and I know tears are imminent, but I try to keep what little composure I have, looking down at the invitation in my trembling hands in an attempt to avoid his eyes.

“I wanted to tell you in person,” Nash says. His words are soft and gentle, as if he knows what they’re capable of doing to me.

“Wow.” I try so hard to sound excited and happy, but I know I’m not even close to pulling it off. My heart is breaking. Actually, no. It’s already broken. And then I do a double take, looking closer at the invitation, and I actually can’t even believe my own eyes. “Next week?” I shriek, finally forced to meet his gaze.

“Yeah.” Nash tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, shrugging a little sheepishly. “I know it’s sudden. But with my final year of med school coming up, and Anna studying for the bar, if we don’t do it now, we’ll probably be waiting another whole year, and we really don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Anna?” I ask, looking down at her name embossed in shiny black lettering on the invitation. Annabelle Victoria Hutchins. I can only imagine what she looks like. Her name is elegant enough. I bet she’s tall and beautiful. Thin and probably blonde. Nothing like me, Alice Murphy. I once thought Alice was a beautiful name. Beautiful like Alice in Wonderland. But Murphy? Bleh. When all the guys started calling me Murph, I just went with it. Because, let’s face it, I’m certainly no Annabelle Victoria Hutchins.

“Yeah.” Nash’s wistful smile is enviable as he ruffles a hand through his sandy blond hair. “Murph, you’re gonna love her. She’s great. She’s a lawyer. Well, she will be once she passes the bar. She’s so smart. And funny, and kind, and … Well, she’s just perfect.” His blue eyes actually glaze over for a moment while he gets carried away with himself, and I wince as the bitter taste of bile begins to rise up the back of my throat.

Thankfully, before he can gauge my reaction, Nash turns, continuing to tread the stone path that trails down to the boardwalk at the river’s edge, and I follow, still speechless as he proceeds to talk. “I was coming out of my favorite juice shop. You know, the one on the same block as my dorm? And Anna was walking with her head down, looking at her phone.” He chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his smiling lips. “She collided headfirst with me, and my smoothie spilled all over the both of us.”

I smile, but really, all I want to do is cry. But I swallow the emotion, clearing my throat. “B-but, isn’t it a little soon?” I ask, adding a casual shrug to try to lighten my question. “I mean, when I came up to visit you for New Year’s you were … happily single.” I meet his eyes with a knowing look. He and I slept together after a drunken night of celebrations on New Year’s Eve. It had been a night of promises, the night I thought everything was going to change. I thought this was going to be our year. And now he’s marrying some woman named Anna?

“What’s it been? Like, a few months?” I guffaw, shaking my head in exasperation.

Nash looks at me, and I can see he wants to say something, but he’s hesitating, considering my question. “I guess … when you know, you just know.” He shrugs, looking down to the ground a moment before tentatively meeting my eyes.

Never before have I imagined someone’s words could feel like such a brutal kick to the stomach, but he’s just about crippled me with that.

“Yeah.” I look down at my hands as they twist together. “I guess I wouldn’t know.”

We continue along the boardwalk and, despite the obvious shift in the air between us, Nash keeps talking about his wonderful, perfect Anna, and their impending nuptials. All the while I’m considering whether or not to just jump into the murky water of the Chelmer River and save myself any further torture. He’s killing me, and he doesn’t even know it. Or, worse. Maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he just doesn’t care.

The thing about Nash and me is that we have a past. It’s more than just the occasional New Year’s hookup. He’s not only my best friend, he was my first crush, my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. He and I were childhood sweethearts who actually thought our love would last forever. But life managed to get in the way and, after we left for college to live our happily ever after together in New York City, my mother’s illness brought me back to Graceville, and our love suffered. I literally went from seeing him every single day, to every third weekend of the month, then every other month until we finally ended things and visited one another when we could.

Now, he’s marrying someone who isn’t me, and I’m still stuck in Nowhereville, Georgia, running my dead mother’s bakery. Suddenly I begin to wonder how different things could have been if she’d never fallen sick. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it over the years, but now the what could’ve beens are as real as my broken heart.

“So? Will you do it?”

Realizing I haven’t been listening, I glance up from the wooden planks at my feet, meeting his hopeful blue eyes, and he offers me a knowing smirk. “Our wedding cake! Will you please make it?” He nudges me playfully with his elbow. “I know it’s late notice, but I always did love your cooking.”

So, not only has he flitted into town on a whim to tell me he’s marrying another woman, he also wants me to make his damn wedding cake? I … I … I can’t even. I swear, it takes everything I have not to give him a piece of my mind. But the longer I gape at him, finding nothing but innocence and sincerity within his eyes, the more I know I have no way of saying anything but yes to this boy. I’ve never been able to say no to him, and I can’t start now.

“Of course.” I smile with a nod. And then, because I need to get the hell away from him, I glance down at my watch, not even really paying attention to the time. “Actually, I have to get back to the store,” I say all flustered and pathetic. “A customer is coming by to pick up their order.”

“Okay.” Nash grins. “I have to head into Chelmer to pick Anna up from the airport.”

At the mention of her my stomach twists at just how real this whole situation is.

“We’re having a small get-together tomorrow night at the club.”

“The club?” I ask, quirking a brow.

“Harrington Country Club.” He nods. “That’s where we’re staying for the week to prepare for the wedding.”

My face scrunches up at the thought. Nash Harris at a country club. It doesn’t make sense. We used to make fun of the rich kids who came into town every summer to stay at Harrington’s. We’d sneak onto the golf course through the pine forest, steal their golf balls before they could get to them, and laugh at how long they would spend looking for them. Now, Nash is one of them, and I feel sick at the thought.

I’m suddenly brought back to the now by a pair of strong arms wrapping around me in an all-too-familiar embrace, and that unsettling feeling in my belly is immediately gone. I find myself smiling as I rest my cheek against his shoulder, closing my eyes and breathing him in. He smells like him, like he always has, like home.

“You’re my best friend, Murph.”

My eyes fly open as I remain in his hold. Best friend? Those two words are suddenly like a slap to my face. I slowly pull back, finding him looking at me with that same innocence he’s had his whole life and I sigh, forcing another smile onto my face as the realization comes crashing down upon me like a ton of bricks. I’ve lost the love of my life.

Chapter 2

For two hours I’ve been torturing myself. While designing a rough draft of the cake I’m now making for the love of my life’s wedding to a woman who isn’t me, I’ve been going over mine and Nash’s last night together, wondering how I’d managed to get it all so wrong. I thought we were going to get back together. The only reason we broke up in the first place was because of the distance. I couldn’t leave Graceville, not when Momma was sick, and especially not after she passed away. I had so much to do here; everything had fallen into my hands. So I was stuck here, and Nash was in New York City at college.

We both agreed that the distance between us was too difficult and we broke up, but it was never really final. We continued to see one another. We continued to talk almost every day. We even continued to share ‘I love you’ texts before bed. Of course I’d thought we were going to get back together, eventually. Nash and I were meant to be together. So, I surprised him by flying up to New York at the last minute on New Year’s Eve. The flights cost me more than I could afford, but I just had to be there with him. He couldn’t get home for the holidays because he was scheduled at the hospital. And when I’d spoken to him over the phone he sounded so sad, so forlorn. I made it my mission to be there with him.

And he’d been so surprised to see me, but there was something else, as if he was actually relieved that I was there. We spent the night in Times Square with a million other revelers, drinking cheap wine, freezing our butts off in the snow while waiting for the ball to drop. And, when it did, when the clock struck midnight, when the fireworks started to explode from the sky, Nash turned to me. He grabbed my face with his gloved hands, steadying me with a look that took every ounce of my breath away, and despite the deafening sound of a million people singing along to ‘Auld Lang Syne’, I heard every ounce of yearning in his words when he told me he missed me, kissing me in a way he’d never kissed me before.

I look down at the design I’ve sketched, and I shake my head, scrunching the paper into a ball and tossing it in the direction of the trash can. With a heavy sigh, I look around me, at the place I’ve called home my entire life. Momma’s bakery was always my safe space, the one place I could come and feel as if everything in life was good, no matter how far from good things truly were. But now, it suddenly feels like my prison, the one place that’s kept me trapped here, the reason I’m not the woman marrying Nash.

I need to get the hell out of here before I completely lose it and drown my sorrows in what’s left of today’s cream cakes in the display cabinet. My already rounded hips are relying on what little self-control I have. I need to go home, have a long, hot bath, and lose myself in a cringeworthy Netflix series and the box of Girl Scout cookies I keep stashed away for times of crisis, like this. But, just as I finish locking up the store and turn to my car parked out front, my eyes zero in on the flashing neon ‘End Zone’ sign across the road, and I’m like a moth to a flame; I don’t even remember so much as crossing the street and, yet, here I am pushing my way through the saloon doors like I own the damn place.

The End Zone is the only bar that exists in the tiny town of Graceville. It’s the kind of place with sports memorabilia hanging on the walls, a couple of pool tables taking up most of the space in the back, flat-screen televisions displaying every kind of sport you can imagine, and an old restored jukebox playing classic hits. Everyone knows everyone, at The End Zone, and everyone knows everyone else’s business. It’s comforting, though. It’s like the family home I unfortunately no longer have, the same family home most people wish they had.

As I walk in, my eyes narrow. The place is dimly lit and eerily quiet, which is no real surprise since it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon. Aside from a couple of die-hard regulars, Bob and Leroy, sitting in the booth by the front windows, sharing a pitcher of beer, I’m the only other person. I wave to the two men as I make a beeline directly for the bar, taking a seat on one of the stools. I search for service but, after a few minutes of waiting, I give up waiting and reach over the counter, grabbing a bottle of whiskey before plucking a glass from the overhead rack.

“What the hell are you doing, Murph?”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the familiar voice coming from somewhere behind me while I continue to pour myself the shot that I need so bad. The warmth of a body sidles up beside me, taking a seat on the very next stool, and I can feel his eyes watching me, but I ignore that overwhelmingly imploring gaze as I throw back the whiskey without even wincing at the afterburn as it trails down the back of my throat, because that’s how pent up I am.

“Huh,” he muses from beside me and I cast a sideways glance to see him nod once. “So, I guess this means you saw Nash then, huh?”

I turn with a quirked brow, meeting his dark emerald eyes and I sigh. Harley Shaw is and always has been the proverbial pain in my butt. It’s nothing sinister. I don’t hate the guy. He just he knows me too damn well. I’ve known Harley for as long as I’ve known Nash. The two of them were the very best of friends before I came along and stole Nash for myself. Of course, Harley was always hanging around like a bad smell. He was the third wheel we just couldn’t seem to escape. We grew up together and, for the last few years, with everyone off at college and grad school, or working in the city and starting their adult lives, Harley’s really the only person I’ve had. He’s like the older brother I never had. The confidant I never knew I needed. He knows me better than anyone, maybe even better than I know me. And because of that, right now, I know he knows the pain I’m going through, and that only frustrates me more.

Even though I don’t answer him, I catch him nodding in understanding from my peripheral vision. But, instead of further chastising me for reaching over the counter of his bar and pouring my own drink, he grabs the bottle from me and pours another, pouring one for himself, too, and that’s exactly what I need right now. Someone.

“He’s 25 years old.” I balk, downing my second shot. “I mean, who even gets married at 25?”

Harley says nothing, choosing instead to listen. And I thank God that he does. I don’t need someone trying to correct me, or argue. I want to vent—I need to let it all out—and the only person I have right now who will listen is Harley, and he does, so I continue. “Does he even know this woman?” I laugh once under my breath, shaking my head as I stare straight ahead at the shelves of liquor bottles lined up behind the bar. “Who the hell marries someone after knowing them for just a few months?”

I throw a hand in the air in exasperation, curious as to why Harley isn’t nearly as incredulous as I am. This whole thing is ridiculous. Why am I the only one who thinks so? And, at that thought, I swivel on my stool, gawping at him, watching as he casually sips his whiskey with little to no emotion, his eyes trained on the television overhead playing some English soccer game.

“Did you know about this?”

Slowly, his eyes flit to the side, and he carefully places his glass onto the counter as he turns to face me, albeit reluctantly. “Well, yeah.” He sighs, adding a casual shrug. “But, I mean, I am his best friend.”

“So am I!” I yell, slightly offended. “At least, I thought I was.”

“Yeah, but—” Harley stops to gauge me, hesitating momentarily. “I’ve never slept with the guy, Murph …”

I sigh heavily, my shoulders falling as I stare down into my empty glass. He’s right.

“I don’t know,” Harley continues. “He seems happy. Granted, I haven’t met the woman but from what he’s told me, she’s good for him. Maybe …” He trails off, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and glancing away. I can tell he’s battling with his words, his clenched jaw working overtime.

“Maybe what?”

He finally meets my eyes again, and there’s a sadness within his gaze, a resignation of sorts as he sighs. “Maybe it’s time you let him go.” Before any more can be said, he stands from his stool and moves behind the counter to serve a customer who’s just walked in from the street. He offers me a sad smile as he pours beer into a frosted glass, but it’s a smile I can’t return. Because, once again, he’s right.

You know how they say if you love something you should let it go, and if it comes back to you then it’s yours, and if not, well then it was never meant to be? Well, I call bullshit on that. If you love something then hold on to it for dear life, because once it’s gone, it’s gone for good. And suddenly you’re left sad and alone in a bar on Main Street, wondering where it all went wrong, crying into your second glass of whiskey at four o’clock in the afternoon.

While Harley busies himself with restocking the cold room behind the bar, I find myself thinking back to the day I met Nash Harris, back to when a 9-year-old girl first met the love of her life.

I’d never had a lot of friends growing up. For most of my life it had just been me and Momma. My father left before I was even old enough to remember him, but that was fine with me. I didn’t need anyone else. I’d always preferred my own company. I had a wild imagination and a love of books, so whenever Momma was busy with the bakery, I’d sit on the curb outside the store with my head buried in a book, makings friends in the characters I read about.

When I was 9, I started getting bullied by a kid at school named Billy Connor. He always tried to steal my lunch. It became second nature. I’d know I wasn’t going to be able to eat whatever Momma packed for me, so I’d stock up with an extra breakfast muffin in the morning, and hide it in my book bag for the afternoon when I was usually starving.

One day, I’d been clutching my NSYNC lunch bag as if it were my lifeline, walking through the school halls with my head down, desperate to make it outside safely without being intercepted by Billy and his band of bullies. But, of course, with no such luck, I was accosted in the corridor, slammed up against a locker with such force I dropped my lunch to the floor as I clutched the back of my throbbing head. But I’d expected it. I’d been waiting for it. I knew it was going to happen. What I hadn’t been prepared for, however, was Harley Shaw coming to my defense.

Harley had always been popular. Even in the bottom ranks of elementary school, he was the most popular guy in all our class. I think it had something to do with being so good at sports. Apparently, when you’re 9 years old, being athletic is the equivalent of being a rock star, and Harley Shaw was like the Justin Timberlake of Graceville Elementary. And he saved me that day, in more ways than one. He made Billy Connor pay for stealing my lunch by dragging him into the girls’ bathroom and flushing his head down the toilet until he begged for both mercy and my forgiveness, and he made sure he and his mean friends never even looked twice in my direction ever again. And they never did. Never again was my lunch stolen.

Still to this day I don’t know why Harley went out of his way for the dorkiest girl in class he’d never once spoken more than five words to, but he did, and I will be eternally grateful. Not just for saving me from Billy and his friends, but if he hadn’t stepped in that day I might never have felt that tug in my heart, that dip in my belly at the sheer sight of the piercing blue eyes of his very best friend when he’d swept in to ask if I was okay while Harley was busy making Billy pay. When he’d taken hold of my hand and led me to the school nurse’s office to get the bump on my head checked out, I knew, even at 9 years old, that I had fallen head over heels in love with a boy named Nash Harris.

“What the hell are you smiling at?”

I startle from my thoughts, looking up from my glass of whiskey to see Harley sitting beside me again, this time lifting a bottle of beer to his lips. I can feel my cheeks blush of their own accord, giving me away completely, and I try to hide my smile behind my glass as I look straight ahead at nothing in particular. “I was just thinking of that first day,” I admit. “Back in fourth grade when you flushed Billy Connor’s head down the toilet.”

Harley chuckles to himself at the memory.

“That was the day we all became friends.” I look at him, seeing him nod as he stares down at his beer with a faraway smile of his own, and I know he knows it too. It wasn’t just the day we became friends; Nash, Harley and me, we became family that day. It was the day my whole life changed.

Chapter 3

I stand in front of the mirror that hangs on the back of my closet door, staring at my reflection with serious contempt. You know when you’re hoping for a particular look, and you really think you’re going to pull it off, but then you see yourself and wish you’d thought things through better? Well, that’s me right now. I’d driven forty miles, all the way to Chelmer, to the Westfield because it has a Macy’s, and I spent a couple hundred bucks on my outfit for tonight. I wanted something sleek and sexy, sophisticated and elegant. Something not at all like my usual self. But contact lenses always make my eyes burn like hell, and I simply cannot get away with wearing a bodycon dress with hips like mine.

The first thing to go is the contacts. Straight in the trash. I’ve worn glasses since I was five years old and, unfortunately, they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. I tug off the constricting dress that feels like it’s suffocating me, and I toss it to the floor before rifling through my closet.

Finally, I’m dressed in a navy dress that sits mid-thigh and flares out from the waist, concealing my hips, thighs and butt. I team it with my shiny red Mary Janes to add a splash of color, and I wear my tortoiseshell glasses. Painting my lips a cherry red to match my heels, I leave my auburn hair natural, falling around my shoulders.

I look at myself in the mirror for a long time, taking in every little detail of my outfit. Unlike the look I’d been hoping for, it definitely isn’t sleek, sexy, sophisticated or elegant, but then, neither am I. And I can’t pretend to be someone I’m truly not. I’d never pull it off and it would only end in embarrassment. And tonight’s the night I’m meeting the woman who is marrying the love of my life. The beautiful, wonderful, perfect Annabelle Victoria Hutchins, at least that’s the impression I get from the social media profiles I’ve spent the best part of the last twenty-four hours stalking. She’s literally perfect, and beautiful, and everything in between. I can’t possibly risk embarrassing myself. Not tonight. Not in front of her.

I’ve had almost an entire day to come to terms with the fact that Nash is no longer mine, nor will he ever be mine again. And it hurts more than I could have ever been prepared for it to hurt. Last night was spent crying into a half-empty bottle of wine while listening to my Spotify playlist of saddest songs. I cried so many tears. And even now, with no more tears to cry, it still sits like a painful lump at the back of my throat.

I’m not sure how I’m going to be able do it: go there tonight to celebrate with them, spend the rest of the week making their wedding cake, and watching on Saturday as they become husband and wife while acting as if everything is fine when deep down it’s anything but okay, like a rusted blade slicing through my gut. But, when the doubt begins to get the better of me, I remind myself that first and foremost, Nash is my friend, and I owe it to him to be the happy and supportive Murph that I’ve always been. But it still kills me like crazy.

As I sit at my dressing table fastening a small gold hoop into each of my earlobes, I think back to the night I first realized I’d fallen in love with Nash Harris. I was only 14, but even at an age when marriage should have been the last thing on my mind, that was the night I thought maybe I would one day be the woman lucky enough to become his wife.

I woke with a start. My eyes flew open as I searched the darkness surrounding me. My heart raced without me knowing why. But when something hit my window, I breathed a sigh of relief realizing it was the tapping of the glass that had woken me from my dreams. Throwing my covers off, I crawled down to the foot of my bed, and pulled the curtains aside. I looked down to the front yard, gasping at the silhouette standing by the elm tree. His hood was pulled low over his head, covering most of his face, but I could tell it was him, and I knew immediately something was wrong. He hadn’t come here in the middle of the night since the last time.

Suddenly my heart felt as if it had climbed to the back of my throat. Jumping out of bed, I shoved my feet into my slippers, tiptoeing past my momma’s bedroom, hurrying as fast as I could downstairs. I stopped at the front door, holding my breath a moment before lifting the latch and pulling it open. The cool night breeze blew in from outside, shocking me, and I shivered.

“Nash?” I whispered through the silence, searching the front yard for him.

A shadowy figure appeared from behind the thick trunk of the elm tree, and I watched with a furrowed brow as he limped unsteadily through the darkness. When he came into the light of the moon, I couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of him. With a split lip and a black eye, he was hunched forward, clutching his side, his face distorted in pain with every step he took. He stopped on the porch in front of me, and I could feel my eyes prick with the threat of tears. But I knew it was my job to remain strong. He needed me. So, without saying a word, I ushered him inside, quietly closing the front door behind us before taking his hand in mine and carefully helping him upstairs.

Nash sat on the edge of the tub, his head bowed and his shoulders small and cowering. He’d taken off his sweatshirt, and when I’d first caught sight of the painful red welts lashed across his back and the purple bruises covering his ribs, I wasn’t sure if I should have woken my momma. I was terrified. I couldn’t be sure he didn’t need to go the hospital. But Nash pleaded with me not to say anything to anyone, so I didn’t say a word. I tended to him as best I could, as quietly as I could so as not to wake Momma. As I padded the open welts across his back with antiseptic ointment, I could feel a wayward tear trail over the curve of my cheek. I quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of my pajama shirt. I couldn’t let him see me cry.

“What did he do to you?” I whispered under my breath, unsure he’d even heard me.

“Belt.” Nash’s hushed voice was full of an uncharacteristic fragility that just about broke my heart. I closed my eyes a moment, an involuntary shudder coursing through me.

“I hate him,” he hissed between gritted teeth, flinching away from every one of my tender touches.

So do I, I thought silently to myself. “I’m so sorry, Nash.”

Nothing more was said between the two of us. I did all I could to ease his suffering, and he sat silently. He was so strong through the worst pain imaginable, and all the while my heart continued breaking for him. He didn’t deserve this. Nobody did. I wished I could help save him from his horrible daddy.

Nash and I lay together in my bed, side by side, staring up at the shadows cast from outside as they danced across the ceiling to an imaginary tune. I reached under the covers, finding Nash’s hand by his side, and without a word, I took it in mine, lacing my fingers through his, holding him tight.

“I’ll always be here for you, Nash.” My voice was a whisper, but the silence seemed to make my promise echo through the air around us.

Holding my hand so tight as if he couldn’t possibly bear to let me go, Nash rolled onto his side. He looked at me for a long moment, his mischievous eyes sparkling through the muted light of the moon seeping in through open curtains.

“One day some lucky guy is gonna come into your life and steal you away from me,” he whispered back, pulling my hand closer and enveloping it in both of his, holding it tight.

Never once breaking our hold, I rolled onto my side, facing him, our noses a mere hair’s breadth from one another. For a long moment we simply lay there, staring into each other’s eyes, our silence speaking volumes.

“Nobody is ever going to take me away from you,” I said in a hushed tone.

My eyes moved down to his lips. His perfectly pouted lips, glistening in the darkness. I was only 14 years old. I’d never been kissed.

Suddenly something unexpected came over me, something I knew he felt too. I’d never experienced it before, but out of nowhere my belly twisted low in my gut, and my heart stammered, thumping heavily in my chest. It was an unfamiliar feeling I didn’t necessarily dislike. Every day I had dreamed of my very first kiss, of Nash’s lips on mine. But it was just a dream. It was all a dream that would never come true, because this was real life, and happily ever afters were just in books.

“You’re my best friend, Murph.” Nash leaned in even closer, resting his forehead against mine. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I smiled, closing my eyes a moment, breathing him and his words in. Looking at him again, I blinked once, watching him so closely it was as if I could see straight through to his soul, and it was beautiful. “We’ll always have each other,” I whispered.

Nash leaned forward, pressing his lips to my forehead, and I gasped, not having expected such an intimate closeness from him. “Just the two of us,” he said so softly. “Forever and always.”

I looked up, meeting his eyes, and when I caught the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips, in that instant I knew everything in the world was perfect. Deep down butterflies swarmed in my tummy as I realized maybe—just maybe—one day, I would get my happy ending, after all.

The sound of a car horn pulls me from my past and I startle, shaking my head free of the reverie clouding my mind. My phone vibrates and I glance down to see a notification from Uber on the screen. Peering through the curtain I see a silver Toyota idling at the curb. With one last glance at my reflection, I exhale a heavy breath and collect my purse. And, with my heart a little heavier than it had been only moments ago, I know it’s time to face my past, now or never.

Chapter 4

Harrington Country Club is certainly not the type of place I frequent in my spare time. It’s the kind of place a girl like me just doesn’t belong. Women with handbags worth more than my car, dripping in diamonds and pearls, accompany men who exude wealth and stature. And, here I am in my old dress, wearing shoes I dug out from the very bottom of a bargain bin during the Black Friday sales at Nordstrom’s two years ago, smiling nervously at the club host as I walk through the grand entrance, scared I’m going to be asked to leave.

“Can I help you, miss?” the host asks, crossing the foyer to reach me in such a hurry it’s as if I’m trying to sneak in.

I straighten a little, squaring my shoulders. “I’m here for the Harris-Hutchins dinner party.” I lift my chin a little higher as if I’m the kind of woman who frequents the most exclusive country clubs every Saturday night.

“Certainly, ma’am.” The man nods and smiles down at me. “Just through the main hall, past the gentlemen’s lounge, and into the formal dining room.”

“Thank you.” I nod on my way past him, trying not to outwardly roll my eyes at the fact that this is the kind of establishment that actually entertains the idea of a gentlemen’s lounge.

The formal dining room is even more exquisite than the foyer, and I’m rendered speechless when I walk through the double doors. A perfectly planned maze of beautifully decorated tables fills the space, complete with candles, fresh flowers, and fancy silverware. Soft music resonates throughout, accompanying the sound of gentle voices murmuring amiable dinner chitchat. As much as I try to pretend as if I do, I certainly do not belong in a place like this.

“Murph!”

I stop mid-step, looking to my right and breathing a sigh of relief to see Nash through the sea of pompous country club members. And, for a moment, I’m left breathless by the sheer sight of him. He looks incredible. His sandy hair is a little messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it all day. His azure eyes seem to illuminate the otherwise dim light of the room, sparkling beneath the low-hanging crystal chandeliers. He’s dressed in a navy suit that looks as if it was made to fit only his body. I’ve never seen him look so put-together, so grown-up, so handsome.

“Murph, over here!” Nash yells out again, chuckling this time as if I’d not seen him.

I come to, snapping myself out of my daze. His hand is in the air, beckoning me over and that same boyish grin I fell in love with years ago beams as he waves me over.

“Hi.” I smile awkwardly, approaching the long table set up in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the eighteenth hole lit up like Christmas, providing a spectacular backdrop.

Nash makes his way to me and, before I know it, he has me wrapped in his arms. He holds me so close I can feel his breath fanning over the sensitive skin at the base of my neck and, again, I’m breathless, speechless, and everything in between. The things this guy is capable of doing to me without really doing anything, I swear he might just be the death of me.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, pulling back and holding me at arm’s length. “You look beautiful, Murph. Real beautiful.”

I roll my eyes at his compliment, feeling my traitorous cheeks blush.

“Come.” Nash takes my hand in his, holding it tight. “I want to introduce you to Anna.”

My heart falls at the mention of her, as if somehow in the last three minutes spent rapt in everything Nash, I’d forgotten the reason I was here. I try desperately not to let my smile fall but, when I’m led to the striking blonde woman I remember from my social media stalking session, tentatively standing from her chair, looking from Nash to me and back again, the overwhelming happiness I felt just moments ago has all but disappeared.

Is this some kind of sick joke?

She’s the epitome of beautiful. Even more beautiful than the photos on her Instagram. In fact, beautiful doesn’t even cut it. She’s tall—at least five foot ten – plus however many inches the stiletto heels she’s wearing are. She’s thin, with an enviable amount of cleavage on display. Her skin is luminous, soft and flawless; it’s as if she’s actually glowing from the inside. Long blonde hair that shimmers like glitter and she’s dressed in a slinky red dress that hugs her strategically placed curves. I can’t help but stare at her while realizing every one of my fears have been confirmed; Anna isn’t just everything I’m not, she’s everything a girl like me could never be.

Immediately I feel as if I pale in comparison to a girl like Anna Hutchins, and I really want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Being in the same room as someone so sickeningly perfect, so naturally charming, is definitely not good for my already dwindling self-confidence.

“Anna,” Nash begins, looking down at me with an endearing smile I suddenly want to slap right off his face for reasons unbeknownst to me. “This is Murph.”

“Oh my goodness.” Anna beams, covering her smiling mouth with each of her perfectly manicured hands. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting the infamous Murph.”

I stiffen a little. Infamous? What does that even mean? What am I, some kind of funny story he likes to tell all his new rich college friends about? I eye Nash dubiously but he just grins down at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “All I do is talk about you, and Harley of course, and everything we did growing up together,” he explains, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

“I’m so happy to meet you.” Anna smiles, apparently over her sudden shock of coming face-to-face with my apparent infamy. Ducking down to my level—which is humiliating in itself—she wraps her arms around me in an embrace I can’t say I’m all too comfortable with. I hesitate a moment before reluctantly lifting a hand and patting her back a few times, feeling as awkward as possible. I’m not usually one to hug a stranger and, let’s face it, she’s a stranger; I don’t care how tightly she has my best friend wrapped around her dainty little finger.

“Harley!” Nash yells from beside us, and that’s my cue to pull away from the slightly overbearing Anna, straightening my dress as I glance at Nash who is, once again, holding his hand in the air.

“Hey, man!” he calls out.

I turn to see Harley approaching and, for a moment, I find myself actually stunned. What the hell? He looks good tonight. Surprisingly so. I’ve never seen him so dressed up. Wearing a pair of neatly pressed khakis and a white button-down, which helps to accentuate his athletic build and tan skin. Even his chestnut hair is perfectly styled away from his face, instead of in its usual disarray.

I’m shocked. His look tonight is in stark contrast to his usual ripped jeans and End Zone T-shirt he wears every day at the bar. Hell, he even wore his damn football jersey to prom, complete with a sequin bowtie. The guy has never looked like this before, and I find myself unable to tear my eyes away from his as he smiles, flashing his dimples and all. He oozes charisma as he weaves his way through the table maze.

Reaching us, Harley throws his arms around Nash, and I force myself to look away from him, my eyes flitting to Anna who is watching the boys’ exchange with an adoring smile, her perfectly straight white teeth glistening. Everything about her annoys me. I can barely contain an eye-roll. I force myself to turn away from her to stop the annoyance from consuming me from the inside out, and my gaze shifts to Harley once again. On closer inspection, I realize perhaps he isn’t as put-together as I had initially thought, the Men’s Warehouse tag poking out from the back of the starched collar of his shirt proves that, beneath the façade, the usual Harley is still there in all his glory, and I bite back a grin.

“Hey, Murph.” Harley offers me a smile.

“Hey,” I murmur in return, again forcing myself to look away from him. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I just need a drink. I begin searching for a waiter, craning my neck over the sea of country club diners as Nash and Harley continue talking with one another, but then I overhear Nash introducing him to Anna, and everything stops.

“Harley, this is Anna, the love of my life—”

At that, I snap my head back to look at them, my jaw gaping at his words. The love of my life? As if his words aren’t bad enough, I’m forced to watch on as he offers her the most adoring look, and it’s heartbreakingly obvious just how enamored he is of her. My hands ball into fists by my sides and something unexpected comes over me, something I hadn’t been prepared to deal with tonight. As I watch Nash slap Harley’s shoulder, introducing him, the words are like hot lava as they burn their way up the back of my throat. I couldn’t even stop them if I tried.

“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.

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 moment.

“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.”

Nash laughs, nodding and smiling between the two of us, and I can feel Harley glaring at me as I exhale a breath of relief, ignoring him. “Well,” I say with a weak smile. “Goodnight.” I step forward, placing a quick peck on Nash’s cheek. But as I go to move away, he holds me a little tighter, so close, and when I look into his eyes I find something I wasn’t expecting deep within his intense gaze.

“Let’s do something tomorrow,” he whispers into my ear before pulling back and meeting my eyes with a knowing look. “Just the two of us.”

Just the two of us? I can’t say that my heart doesn’t jump at the thought of being alone with him again after all this time. But why does he want to do something, just the two of us? Is he jealous? I nod, trying to keep the smug grin from claiming my entire face.

Harley flashes me a confusing look, one I can’t read, before forcing a smile onto his face. Turning, he hesitates a moment, but then he grabs my hand, a little more roughly than necessary, and pulls me with him. Together, we walk in a silence so thick with tension, so overwrought with frustration, that I just know I’m in for it the moment we’re alone.

Chapter 7

The drive back from the club doesn’t take long. I only live on the other side of the pines behind the golf course but, with the tension reverberating throughout the silent cab of Harley’s truck, three minutes actually feels like an excruciating lifetime. When we pull up to the curb outside my house, I exhale a breath of relief. I thought he was going to blast me the moment we were alone, but he remained silent the whole way. The only thing that gave away the fact that he’s even remotely pissed off was the way his death-like grip on the steering wheel turned his strained knuckles a stark shade of white.

“Well,” I say, reaching for the door handle. “Goodnight.”

He doesn’t say anything, so I climb down from the truck and close the door behind me. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I continue up the steps to my porch and fumble through my purse for my house keys, which is when I hear the porch steps creak behind me.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell this is all about?”

I startle, turning quickly to see Harley right there. I didn’t even hear him get out of his truck, let alone his footsteps approach on the path behind me. Yet, there he is, glaring at me, waiting impatiently for me to explain myself. Rolling my eyes, I push my glasses up my nose as I retrieve my keys from my purse. I unlock the door and continue inside, waiting for him to follow. I know he deserves at least some semblance of an apology, especially seeing as I can’t give him the explanation he needs.

Harley walks inside like a man on a mission, pacing back and forth in the small foyer, his footsteps heavy on the cherrywood floorboards. I turn, watching him as I relax against the front door before pushing off and continuing past him and into the kitchen.

“Do you want a drink?” I call over my shoulder.

He follows me. “No, I don’t want no damn drink. I want an explanation, Murph!”

I stop at the kitchen island, gripping the counter and taking a moment to collect myself. I’ve consumed far too much wine for such an intense conversation, and my head is already all over the place. To be honest, I really don’t even know where to begin.

“Murph!” Harley presses, his gruff voice booming throughout the silence of my tiny house.

I reluctantly meet his eyes, folding my arms over my chest, considering him for a moment. “Do you wanna know what I’ve been thinking about all night?”

He stares at me, blinking once, offering an uncertain shrug.

“I’ve been thinking if Momma never got sick, I never would’ve had to drop out of college. And if I never dropped out of college, then maybe I’d be the woman marrying Nash …” I shake my head at my own words, ashamed to have said them out loud.

The hard look in Harley’s eyes softens a little, and he takes a tentative step forward, glancing away as if in serious thought, as if my confession really affects him, and I know it does, because it’s been his shoulders I’ve spent the last five years crying on.

“Me and him were so happy together after we left for college. Our lives were perfect. Everything was working out just how we’d always planned,” I continue. “And then I get a phone call to tell me she has stage-four breast cancer?” I scoff, shaking my head once again at that memory. “I had to drop out, come home, look after her and the bakery, every damn thing. All for what? For nothing. Because she died anyway. Just like that.”

I look down at the floor as sadness overwhelms me, but I don’t cry. I cried all my tears for Momma when she left me. And, I’m not even sad anymore. I’m angry. Angry that I was left all alone. Angry that I got stuck with the mortgage and the doctor bills I couldn’t afford. Angry that I lost everything I worked so hard for. College is all I ever wanted, but it was taken away from me, and now it’s nothing more than a distant memory. Something I almost had. Of course, I miss my mother. I always will. I’m just angry. I have been for five long years.

A heavy silence ensues, settling thick in the air between us.

“You know,” Harley starts, his voice a little softer. “I lost everything, too. I was All-American. A five-star recruit. Hell, I was the nation’s number-one high school quarterback, for God’s sake. I had it all. I was a sure shot for the NFL draft …” He exhales a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he looks down at his hands. “Then I had to go and blow not one, but both my damn knees during the season opener of sophomore year.” He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “I couldn’t afford tuition on my own, so I had to drop out of college, too. I know all about losing everything, Murph, and it sure does hurt like a kick to the teeth.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek, watching him as he continues.

“Life is nothing more than eighty, maybe ninety years of shitty circumstances all tied in together.” He stares into my eyes. “But I still don’t understand why the hell I’m suddenly your boyfriend!” He throws his hands in the air with an exasperated sigh.

“You really think I want Nash knowing I spent the last five years of my life stuck in this godforsaken town, just waiting for him to come back to me?” I’m laughing now, but my laugh is void of any humor. If I don’t laugh I might cry, and I can’t risk letting him see me break down. Not tonight. “You really think I want him knowing I’ve been waiting around for him to realize he’s supposed to be with me?”

“Huh …” Harley seems to realize something at that point, looking at me a moment as he slowly nods. “So, that’s what this is all about?”

I stare at him, snapping my mouth shut, realizing I’ve said too much.

“You’re using me to—what? To try to make him jealous?” His eyes are wide with disbelief.

“It’s not … it isn’t like that. I—” I begin to try and explain myself, but he interrupts my useless stammering.

“God, I can’t believe you!” He rakes his fingers through his hair, tearing at the ends as he glances up to the ceiling.

“What?” I snap, offended by his reaction.

“We’re supposed to be best friends.” He laughs under his breath. “I never even knew you were—”

This time, it’s me who interrupts him. “We are not best friends, Harley.” It’s totally the wine talking.

He gapes at me, hurt evident in his green eyes. “We’re not best friends?”

“No.” I scoff. “You and me, we’re friends by default. Nothing more.”

Shut up, Murph, I think to myself. Just shut up.

For a moment he looks a little flummoxed, like he can’t possibly believe what I’m saying.

“Harley, you were quarterback of our high school football team,” I say, as if it’s brand-new information. “I … I volunteered at the school library on weekends, for Christ’s sake!”

His brows pull together as he gauges me.

“If it weren’t for Nash, I doubt you and me would’ve even crossed paths, let alone be friends.” Another silence is left in the wake of my words, only this time it’s different. It’s thick with something I’ve never experienced before, and suddenly I feel terrible. I don’t even know why I’m saying what I’m saying. I know it’s a defense mechanism. But who the hell am I defending myself from? Harley? Why, when he’s the only friend I have?

Harley finally nods, pressing his lips into a thin line as he continues looking into my eyes, his gaze imploring. I’m not sure what more he expects me to say—if anything—so I turn, ending our conversation and busying myself with filling the kettle with water.

“Well, I mean, if that’s how you feel …” he finally says, pulling my attention back to him.

I turn, watching him linger in the doorway, wishing I could tell him it isn’t how I feel.

“But, Murph, you better tell Nash the truth, or I will,” he warns. “I won’t lie to him. He’s my best friend.” He pauses on his way out, adding, “I thought he was yours, too.” He offers me a look that speaks volumes, one that makes me feel about three inches tall, before turning and walking out. And as I remain standing there all alone in the kitchen, listening to the front door slam shut, my thoughts drift a mile away, back to the day my entire world as I knew it came crashing down around me.

Walking out of my Literature class, I smiled as the sun’s rays finally managed to break through the heavily looming snow clouds. New York City had been shrouded in a gloomy gray blanket and, in turn, doused with snow for what felt like the entire month of February. So, the warmth of the sun was almost magical as I walked through Washington Square to meet Nash for a bite to eat before our afternoon classes. The moment I saw him sitting there by the fountain, my heart skipped a beat. He looked incredible and warm, dressed in his NYU sweater with his pea coat over the top, as he stared down at the textbook on his lap, rapt with whatever it was he was reading.

God, I love that boy, I thought to myself as I stopped a moment just to stare at him, appreciate him. I was still completely enamored even after all these years.

“Nash?” I waved, continuing toward him through the throng of students, tourists, and office workers from the nearby buildings taking advantage of the sun during their lunch breaks.

He looked up from his book, his blue eyes lighting up with his grin as he found me through the crowd. As I approached him, he stood, but I was interrupted by my cell phone vibrating in the pocket of my jeans. Pulling it out, I looked down to see my mother’s beautiful face flashing on the illuminated screen. My eyebrows pulled together instinctively. She never called me during the day. She only ever called at night to see how my day went.

“How was your morning?” Nash asked, leaning in to place a kiss to my cheek.

“Hold on just a sec.” I turned away from him, answering the call. “Momma? Is everything okay?” I asked before she could speak.

“Hi, darlin’.” Her voice sounded different, strange, like it wasn’t really her.

I shoved my index finger into my ear in an attempt to hear her a little better over the city noise, walking away from the three girls sitting by the fountain laughing loudly together.

“Hi, Momma,” I said with a tight smile, my heart climbing higher and higher toward the back of my throat. Deep down, I knew something was wrong. “Is everything okay?”

“Sweetheart,” Momma began, her voice soft and a little broken. “I’m afraid I have some bad news …”

As I strained to hear her soft voice over the noise I’d become so accustomed to, I glanced back over my shoulder to see Nash watching on with interest, his eyebrows knitted together as he watched me intently while I listened to my mother. But then, when everything around me began to go dark, when the beat of my heart became so deafening it was all I could hear, I watched as Nash dropped his textbook to the ground, running toward me with a look of fear in his eyes. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen into a heap on the cold concrete until Nash dropped to his knees, pulling me into his arms.

It looked as if his mouth was trying to say something, screaming something, a vein in his neck protruding against his smooth skin. I couldn’t hear him. All I could hear was those same words repeating over and over and over in my head. “Stage-four cancer … Too late … I’m dying …”

The whistling of the kettle brings me back from those heartbreaking memories haunting my mind, and I shake my head, collecting myself as best I can. That was the day it all ended. Everything. That was the day I lost my mom. Although she didn’t pass away until about six months later, I lost her that day. In fact, with that one phone call, I lost everything. College. Momma. That was even the day I started losing Nash. Everything I loved was just snatched out from underneath me without warning, with one simple call.

It’s funny how your life can go from exceptional to devastating within the flash of an unexpected minute, and there’s nothing you can do about it when it happens.

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