They all know my story.

Do they judge me for it?

I’d bet every damn dollar in my bank account that some did at the beginning.

Now, not so much. They invite me into their homes, they allow me in the bar’s cash, and I’ve never given them a reason to worry.

Cassidy eagerly nods. “Seriously.”

Silas peers over at me. “You cool with that?”

I shrug, striving to appear casual. “Sure. Whatever.”

Cassidy helping means I’ll leave later, and even though I’m as exhausted as people are after Thanksgiving dinner, I’d rather spend time with her than sleep.

“Cool.” He snatches his jacket, and when Cassidy turns around, he elbows me playfully.

I shove him away.

“Catch you guys later!” Silas salutes us before leaving.

“Who volunteers for extra work?” I ask on my way to lock the door behind Silas.

“It’s better than going home to an empty apartment,” Cassidy replies with a shrug.

“I feel you on that. It’s the same with Archer being gone.”

“Another reason to drag his ass home.” She clears a table of two drinks before spraying it down with cleaner and wiping it.

“Me doing that equals working less … which means less time you get to spend with me.”

The towel falls from her hand. “He can come home for Georgia, and you can still work. Dude probably needs time to clear that stubborn head of his and grovel at Georgia’s feet. I suggest he take classes on how to be a good boyfriend.”

I bite back the urge to ask if she’s ever been in a serious relationship. For someone who thinks she’s Dr. Phil, has she even dealt with real-life problems yet?

“If you understood Archer and his past, you’d think differently,” I reply.

She cocks her hip against the bar and levels her hazel beauties on me. “Tell me about it then.”

Well, shit.

Not where I was going with that statement.

I thought it’d shut her up about my brother.

“Archer, he …” I clear my throat while searching for the right words. “He sees himself as the Grim Reaper. He thinks it’s safer for Georgia to stay away from him. In his weird-ass head, he’s punishing himself, not her, for what happened.”

“He might think that, but Georgia is being punished in the process.”

Returning to the bar, I snatch the universal remote and power off the TVs. “Trust me, I tried explaining that, but he’s hardheaded.”

So are all of us Callahans.

It’s why my brother and father could hardly stand to be around each other.

“What about you? What would you do in that situation?”

I draw in a deep breath as her question sinks into my blood, pulling out honesty. “I wouldn’t run.” My response is a sellout to my brother—me agreeing with everyone but him.