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

“I want you back, Murph.”

Chapter 29

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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