Where We Belong Page 2

  “Harley...” His voice trails off while his eyes search mine—for what, I’m not sure. “Harley, I can't do this. I'm sorry, but I can't." He pauses again, taking a second to sit down on the table. Placing his elbows on his knees, he bends forward and lowers his head. His voice is so soft that I almost don’t hear his next devastating words. “We need to step back and take a break...from our friendship, Harley. We need to take a step back from our friendship.”

  I cry, and my body trembles. "No." My hands shake, my mind working furiously to find a way to fix this. "No," I repeat desperately. "We don't need to take a step back. We need to move forward." I crouch down in front of Ty and grip his fisted hands in mine. "Please give me a chance. I know you're scared, but I promise, you won't regret it. You won't regret me." My eyes flicker across his face, pleading with him to take this leap.

  He exhales loudly and raises his head. “I can’t believe you're doing this to me—to Brit. Now. When I’m suppose to be moving to New York in a week. A fucking week, Harley!" Standing abruptly, his eyes lock onto something over my left shoulder, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him to find out what it is. “I can’t do this. I won't do it." A cold shiver of realization trembles through me. “I’m leaving next week for New York—with Brit. It's best for my relationship with her if you and I don’t talk...at least not until I can sort through all of this in my head."

  His words hit me like a knife to the chest. He can't mean that. He's just in shock. "We can't be friends?" I hiccup, gripping my chest where I'm sure there's a gaping whole from his words. “Please don’t do this. Please, Ty! I’m sorry." I grab his arm, forcing him to face me. “I’m so sorry. Please forget I said anything. I can’t lose you...I won’t lose you." My tears fall freely. I’ve stopped wiping them away; there’s just no point.

  I startle when I hear someone behind me clear their voice. I turn slowly and find myself face-to-face with Brit. I’m not sure how long she's been standing there, but based on the look on her face, I’d say she pretty much knows what’s going on.

  Ty moves to walk around me, and I quickly grab his wrist. “Please, Ty,” I whisper. Gently removing my hand, he reaches for Brit, entwining his fingers with hers. Without a backward glance, they walk away.

  Slumping down onto the picnic table, I close my eyes, praying that this was all a bad dream and I just have to wake up. Realistically, I know it’s not, but there is always that small window of time right after something horrible happens when you feel like if you hope and pray hard enough, you can actually rewind time and undo what’s been done.

  I grip my hair tightly at the scalp and watch as my tears cascade off my face and hit the table below. I'm not sure how long I sit, but eventually I get up and pace the alley behind the bar, trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened. This is why I never told him before...for exactly this reason.

  What on earth have I done?

  He can’t seriously end our friendship.

  He can’t really walk away.

  There is way too much history for him to do that. Right?

  A gravelly, slurred voice interrupts my thoughts. "Harley? That you?" The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I squint through my tears, trying to see whom the drunken voice belongs to. Relief washes over me at the familiar face. I try to respond, but a deep sob comes out instead. He moves to my side quickly. "You're crying," he says, putting a comforting hand to my back. "Please don't cry."

  I normally wouldn't get this close to someone who isn't Tyson or Quinn, but right now I need the familiarity and comfort he offers. In a desperate move, I wrap my arms around his middle, bury my face in his chest, and cry like I've never cried before.

  The stench of smoke deeply rooted in his shirt fills my nostrils and the stale odor of liquor makes me sick as he whispers calming words in my ear. I should be worried. I've heard that he's gotten into some heavier drugs recently, but I know I'm safe.

  We stand there for several minutes, neither of us saying a word. His body sways slightly to the left. I grip him tightly to steady his balance and raise my eyes to his. "Are you okay?"

  His red-rimmed, glossy eyes lock onto mine, but he doesn't respond. I watch as his expression changes. A shiver runs up my spine as goose bumps immediately cover my body. "Are you okay?" I repeat, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. Loosening my grip, I attempt to step back, but his arms tighten around me.

  "You always smell so good," he slurs, his eyes roaming my face. His hand slides up my back and to my neck. He wraps his fingers around my hair and tugs, forcing my head to snap back. Leaning into me, he runs his nose along the side of my neck, and my stomach churns. "I would have given you anything. But I wasn't good enough for you, was I?" I don't respond and he yanks my hair again, arching my back. "Was I?" he seethes.

  I’ve never been in a situation where I feel legitimately uncomfortable in the presence of another human being, but right here...in this second...I am terrified. Adrenalin courses through my body. My heart slams violently in my chest and my muscles tense as terror washes through me. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. A sharp pain rips through my scalp. My face smacks the ground, and a metallic taste fills my mouth.

  Please, God. Please let me survive this.

  MY HAND GRIPS BRIT’S so tightly that I let go in fear of actually hurting her. She follows me across the dance floor, past Levi and Cooper at the pool tables, and to the bar. Flagging down the bartender, I order a bottle of Bud Light. I turn to Brit, raising my eyebrows and cocking my head toward the bar.

  “I’m good,” she replies quietly.

  The bartender grabs a beer from behind the bar, pops the top, and slides it to me. I raise the bottle and begin to drink, my eyes landing on the door we just walked through.

  Brit stands there, absently rubbing my arm. She is giving me time and space, but her stare begs me to say something. To be completely honest, I am absolutely dumbfounded at what just happened. When Harley asked to talk to me, I was expecting her to tell me she's going to miss me but supports me regardless. I was not expecting her to tell me she loves me and beg me to stay here to give “us” a chance. She completely caught me off-guard. At first, all I felt was relief. She finally said the words I’ve wanted to hear for so long.

  I shouldn't have gotten mad that she didn't tell me sooner. That just makes me a hypocrite because I never told her how I felt either. I didn't mean to yell at her, and her tears were almost my undoing. I've never yelled at Harley—ever.

  The other part of me feels horrible for Brit. I was ready to tell Harley I loved her too. I itched to pull her into me, bury my face in her thick brown hair, and tell her how happy she'd made me. But that split-second thought quickly vanished when Brit's face popped in my head.

  I'm not sure when I started looking at Harley differently, but by the time I realized that I harbored some feelings for her, I was in college and the last thing I wanted to do was tie myself down. It makes me a prick, but it's the truth. I didn't want to be shackled to the girl next door—the girl who had naked pictures of my butt and took baths with me when I was growing up. I'm a guy. I wanted to drink beer with my friends and fuck hot girls, even if the girl next door was hot.

  I wasn't expecting to meet Brit. In fact, she literally stumbled into my life when she tripped on the sidewalk and landed conveniently in my lap. But I sure as hell wasn't complaining. She was new and exciting, and she looked at me like I was a shiny toy that she couldn't wait to play with. And I wanted to be played with.

  It was nice being around someone who didn't already know everything about me. I enjoyed telling her stories and having her ask me things, rather than just knowing me inside and out like Harley.

  Fuck. I made the right choice...right? I mean...I've worked so hard to get where I am. It took a lot of work to switch medical schools. I just can't veer off course right now. And then there's Brit. I love Brit. Am I ready to just walk away from her? No. I will not second-guess myself. I made the right choice.

  B
rit rests her hand on my forearm, pulling me from my thoughts, and I turn to meet her eyes. “You okay?” she whispers.

  “I feel like I should be asking you that."

  She links her fingers between mine. “Do you…” She hesitates, her eyes frantically searching mine. “Do you want to stay? Here? With Harley?” Her eyes drop to the floor.

  Gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I lift her gaze back to mine. “No. Absolutely not. I love you, Brit," I say, brushing my lips gently against hers.

  She nods, accepting my answer. “We still need to talk about what happened. If you choose me, then you need to choose me, one hundred percent." Lifting her hand, she runs her fingers behind my ear into my hair, rubbing my cheek with her thumb. Rising onto her toes, her lips meet mine, and then with absolute resolve, she says, “I’m sorry about what happened earlier, but I’m done sharing. I will not share you with her anymore. We’ll never make it if I have to."

  Taking a long swig of my beer, I set the bottle down and wrap her in my arms, pulling her close. I need to comfort her. I need her to comfort me.

  “I know,” I whisper into her ear.

  Making our way over to Levi and Cooper, we quietly join in the conversation. Brit starts chatting with one of her friends while I stand there and pretend that my life didn’t just completely change.

  I can’t help it. I continue to stare at the back door of the bar, waiting for Harley to come back in. I need to see her and make sure that she’s okay. I practically tossed her out of my life, and I feel like a complete asshole for that. Right now, though, I would give anything to rewind time by a few minutes and change my wording a little bit. If I could, I’d be less harsh and maybe tell her something to ease the blow, if that were even possible.

  The thought of not talking to Harley every day scares the shit out of me. It’s an indescribable feeling, but if I had to try, I’d say that the thought of her not being a part of my life leaves me feeling...lost.

  I’m not sure how much time passes, but Brit and I hang out with Levi and Cooper while I nurse another beer and lose another game of pool. A part of me is concerned that I still haven’t seen Harley come back in, but I also don’t see Quinn anywhere, so it’s possible that Quinn met her outside and they left. I want so badly to go search for her and talk this out, but Brit deserves better than that.

  “Come on, Brit,” I say, grabbing her hand. “Let's go home.” Halfway through the bar, she tugs on my arm and I turn to her, raising my eyebrows in silent question.

  “Do you want to go find her? You know, to, umm, to make sure she’s okay?"

  I tighten my grip around her hand and pull her in for a tight hug. “You are amazing, do you know that?" I mumble into her hair.

  She looks up at me and smiles sadly. I kiss her nose and whisper, “Let’s go home. I can talk to Harley later. Tonight, I need to be with you."

  Proceeding through the bar, we exit out into the warm summer heat. I open the passenger door to my truck, allowing Brit to slide in. Shutting her door, I jog around the front, anxious to get home so that I can show Brit exactly how much she means to me.

  My truck roars to life and I reach over with my right hand to grab onto Brit’s, entwining our fingers and bringing them to rest on my thigh. She smiles sweetly. I know Brit feels bad about what happened with Harley tonight because she knows how much Harley means to me. But I also know Brit will have plenty to say about it when we get home—she's never really cared for Harley.

  Pulling up to the road, I signal to take a left turn, and for no particular reason, I glance into my rearview mirror. My gaze catches on Harley's red Mustang, and I furrow my brow in confusion.

  If she's still there, where is she?

  “MAX, PLEASE COME IN here so we can put your shoes on. We really need to get going, buddy."

  Getting out of the house in the morning would be so much easier if I were actually organized. But...I’m not. I could probably speed up the Harley and Max morning extrication process if I would pre-select our clothes the night before and pre-make our lunches. Unfortunately for me, by the time I get home from work, make dinner, play with Max, bathe Max, and coerce Max into going to bed, I’m simply too exhausted to plan for the next day. Therefore, every morning I’m running around the house like a chicken with my head cut off while I try to get us out the door in a timely fashion.

  “Wee oooo, weeee oooo, weeeee oooo." Max comes flying into the kitchen, sliding across the floor in his socks. “Officer Max toooooo the rescuuuuue!”

  “Oh, thank God you’re here, Officer Max,” I croon. “I have a huge emergency." I exaggerate my movements and point to his tennis shoes, which are sitting by the refrigerator. “See those shoes? They need feet! Do you have feet?"

  “Yes ma’am, I do,” he says, nodding his head curtly.

  “You, Officer Max, will save my whole entire day if you will put those shoes on your feet!”

  “No, mom!" he whines, rolling his eyes. Do they seriously start that this early? “I’m here to rescue, not save the day." Sliding his feet into his shoes, he leans back onto his hands, presenting me with his feet. “Double knot this time, mom. They always untie.”

  “You got it, Officer Max." I make quick work of tying his shoes, then ruffle his hair and grab his lunch box.

  I’ve never been a morning person. I’d consider myself more of a night owl, but there is just something about the cool morning air that always makes me happy. It symbolizes the start of another day...a new day. There was once a time when I would dread the start of a new day. But I pulled through. I survived, and now I live for new days.

  I wish I could say my journey to this happy place was an easy one, but I’d be lying. It was a bitch. My soul was tried and tested, along with the patience of the people I love most in my life. But with their persistence and support, I was able to find peace and smile once again.

  Once we're in the car and buckled in, my eyes find Max in the rearview mirror. “Finger out of the nose, please.”

  “Geez, how do you do that?" he whines.

  “Do what?”

  “Catch me.”

  “I have eyes in the back of my head," I deadpan, my smile bursting to break free.

  “What?” he gasps. “You do?”

  “Yup, mommies see everything. Remember that, okay?”

  He nods solemnly. “Okay, but can you see through doors?”

  “Sometimes. I just have to concentrate reaaaally hard.”

  “Someday, can I see through doors and grow eyes in the back of my head?”

  Chuckling softly, I respond, “Someday, buddy. Probably when you become a daddy.”

  He scrunches his brows. “Huh?”

  Oh Lord, I couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut. Haven’t I learned my lesson yet? Every answer results in another question, and another question and another question…

  “Alright buddy, we’re here,” I announce, grateful that the trip to Max's daycare is a short one. Hopping out of the car, I reach into the back and unhook Max from his booster seat. Grabbing his lunch box, I hurriedly walk him to the door. “Okay, Max. Mommy loves you. I’ll see you when I get off work." I bend to hug him, but he’s already bouncing off to where his friends are sitting down, playing with fire trucks.

  His teacher, Maria, walks up and smiles as she reaches for his lunch box. “Have a good day, Harley. We’ll see you tonight.”

  CRANKING UP THE RADIO, I settle in my seat for the commute to work. I live in Illinois but drive across the river into Missouri for my job. There are hospitals that are definitely closer, but none that pay quite as well with the same benefits as the city hospitals. I work at a larger university hospital where I’ve been employed as a staff nurse for the past five years.

  Two years ago, I was given the opportunity to take on a ‘float’ position. There are several perks to being a float nurse. First and foremost, it allows me to work eight-hour shifts rather than the usual twelve hours. I still have to work every third weekend, but all in all,
the hours are great and it allows me to be home with Max in the evenings.

  Plus, I'm never bored at work. I’m constantly being pulled from one floor or one department to the next, which keeps things interesting. I am able to meet so many people that I wouldn’t have met otherwise. It's also allowed me to greatly expand my medical knowledge base.

  My dream is to one day become a nursing educator and teach the next generation of nurses. I want to guide them into becoming the silent heroes that they are destined to be. But my dream is just that...a dream. Going back to school isn’t an option right now.

  It took a long time to get where I needed to be financially, but I feel like I’m finally getting there. Last year, I signed the paperwork and bought the first real home Max and I have ever had. Leaving my parents’ house was hard, but it was something I had to do—not only for myself, but for Max as well.

  I was in such a bad place mentally and emotionally after he was born that it literally took two years to dig, scratch, and claw my way back—but I did it. Then,

  I worked my ass off for the next three years to save enough money for a down payment on a home, all while providing for my son. Aside from the day Max came into this world, the day I bought our house was the proudest I’ve ever been.

  The faint buzzing of my phone snaps me out of the fog. Sliding my finger across the phone, I allow my Bluetooth to accept the call.

  “Hello, Levi,” I answer while picking up my cup to take a drink of my tea.

  “Good morning, beautiful. Max in the car?”

  “Nope, you’re all clear. What’s up?" That’s one thing I love about Levi; he always asks if Max is in the car before he starts talking. Levi has been present since the day Max was born. He understands how quickly Max’s little ears pick up on something. I’ll never forget how that lesson was learned.