My cheeks heat, but my embarrassment is fleeting and almost immediately forgotten when I realize what he’s just said. “Wait. You had a fight? With Harley? This morning?”

Nash nods, closing his eyes tight, and I can see how full of regret he is. “I pushed him, and I would’ve knocked him out, but Kevin and Seth pulled us apart.”

I almost laugh. Nash even thinking he might knock Harley out is hilarious. Harley has at least six inches over him and a good twenty pounds. But then I think back to this morning when Harley wouldn’t even look at me and Nash was on the beach by himself, and any hint of laughter inside me fades. Harley and Nash fought while I was still blissfully asleep. I guess that explains why Harley left me in bed, left me in South Carolina. I’m angry, but I also feel responsible; it’s all because of this godforsaken lie. My lie. And the worst part of all is that that stupid lie worked. I made Nash jealous enough that he’s here on the eve of his wedding telling me he wants me back.

But my lie also caused two lifelong friends to fight, and I hate myself for causing that, and I just know I need to come clean. I know I need to be honest, but if I tell Nash the truth now, then he could hate Harley even more for lying to him. And he’ll hate me. I’ve really become tangled within my own web of lies.

“Nash, can I ask you something?”

His eyes meet mine and he nods.

“Do you love Anna?”

Without even a moment’s hesitation he nods again.

“And do you want to marry her?”

He nods again, a little slower this time, looking down at his empty beer can, twisting the ring pull until it pops off.

“So what’s the problem?” I shrug when he looks at me. “Where do I come into it?”

He sighs an almighty sigh, his shoulders rising and falling so heavily as he buries his head in his hands once more. “It’s just being back here. My home. Seeing you and Harley together, laughing. It just reminds me of everything I don’t have no more. I miss it. I miss you. I miss Harley. I miss this damn place.”

I press my lips together and, sigh with a small smile when it suddenly all starts to make sense. I gently squeeze his arm, causing him to look at me again with a slight furrow of confusion pulling between his brows. “Nash, you don’t want me back.” I shake my head with a small laugh, and he looks at me, studying my face for a long moment as he considers my words. “I just remind you of everything: the good, the bad, how things used to be. I remind you of home.”

After a palpable silence, he releases a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging as relief seems to wash over him. A small, sheepish smile begins to tug at his lips as he looks down to where my hand is touching his forearm and, without meeting my eyes, he takes my hand in his, squeezing it tight. “You’re right,” he says, his hoarse voice hushed. “Ever since I’ve been back here I’ve been plagued by all these old memories. Of my dad. Of you and me. How you always were there for me. How you saved me. I thought everything would still be the same coming back here, but it’s all different. And I miss it.”