I don’t have any more insight than they do, but I gave up on convincing people of that long ago and settled into my role in this small, tight-knit community out here in Williamson County. I’m the outsider, no matter that I mostly grew up here, and the unwanted, no matter that I do what no one else wants to.

“Two beers, please, Bubba,” I tell the man who’s scooted way down the bar as far away from me as possible. He nods his head toward Silas, eyes questioning. I sigh, knowing the peace it’ll bring is worth a lot more than two bucks. “Fine. Three.”

Even though I’m doing something nice to make up for the half-glass of beer Silas spilled, which wasn’t even my fault, he balks. “Is that a trick? Or some sort of apology before the fact?”

I give Silas my most psychic medium stare, vacantly looking through him rather than at him, and make my voice flat and otherworldly. “Silas House, you need to drink your beer and let someone else drive you home. Do this and you’ll live to see another sunrise.”

The whole room has gone dead silent, and yes, that’s sarcasm. They’re definitely quiet as church mice, but if I had to guess, the average heart rate of the room is somewhere around that shock you get when you startle awake in the middle of the night from a bad dream and think there’s a demon standing in the corner of the room, so no one’s dead. Yet.

“Yes, ma’am. Will do,” Silas answers before chugging the fresh beer Bubba sets in front of him. He’s still swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand when he asks, “Who can give me a lift?”

On any usual weekday night at shortly after six, he’d have zero takers. These people just got off work and are looking for a night of relaxation and stress relief from a day of hard labor.

But this isn’t a usual night. I’m here, so no fewer than six hands shoot up in the air.

“I got you, Silas. I need to get outta here, anyway,” Mack says, chugging his own beer. He looks clear-eyed and wary of me as he gives a wide berth to get around me and to the door. That’s saying something too since Mack is short for Mack Truck, and to go around me, he has to push a table and four chairs out of the way with his overall-covered ass.

I stay perfectly still, not risking any movement being seen as a threat, until Mack and Silas are out the door, with two more people following them. I keep my face straight and my lips shut, not showing that it affects me at all even though it hurts like ripping open a freshly stitched wound.