Her body softens, a weight dragged off her shoulders, and for a moment, I’m proud of myself for unwinding that tension. Then I remember what I did, what I said, and how I shouldn’t get any recognition for that because I agreed to keep this a secret between us.

“Thank you,” she whispers, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around my waist.

I bow my head, kissing her hair, and feel like a fucking coward.

Loyalty.

It’s a hard drug for me.

A problematic drug for me.

I could do what I’ve done all my life—be loyal and keep my mouth shut.

After helping Cassidy undress and get into the shower, I step out of the bathroom and grab my phone from her bedroom.

I call Archer, and when he answers, I say, “Hey, I need someone to cover for me tonight at the bar.”

“Dude,” he grunts, “a little late notice. You can’t call in this late and expect it to be okay.”

“Something came up.”

“What’s that something?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“Yeah, sorry, but I’m not letting you have the night off so you can spend time with a girl.”

I clench my hand around the phone.

Now’s not the time to mess with me, brother.

“Oh, says the guy who went MIA for nearly a fucking week, and I covered for you,” I snap, attempting to keep my voice low in case Cassidy gets out of the shower soon.

“That was different.” Agitation spreads along his words. “You can go to Cassidy’s after.”

“I don’t want her alone.”

“What?” That agitation alters into concern.

I lower my voice. “I came to her house last night since she was ignoring my calls.”

“That probably has something to do with Isla’s ass showing up at our place.”

Pausing, I look from one side of the living room to the other before deciding to change my mind. With quick steps, I walk outside and shut the patio door behind me. What I’m about to do goes against everything I stand for, but I care about Cassidy too much. I have to tell someone before it eats away at me.

I tighten the phone against my face. “That, and she has a big-ass bruise around her neck after being assaulted.”

“What the fuck?” Archer yells into the phone.

“Yeah, tell me about it. Now, do you understand why I’m not leaving her?” I kick at the grass with the same force I’d like to kick her assaulter’s ass.

“Is she going to the cops?”

“She refuses to.” My answer is a reminder of what I’m hiding for her. It’s also a reminder of what I’m not really hiding and how I’m deceiving her by telling Archer this.