Sanford leans forward, elbows on the counter. “Listen. I’ve got money to invest. And I don’t throw my cash at just anyone. But you? You’re worth it. You set up shop in Birchwood Springs, and I’ll back you. Equipment, lease, whatever you need to get started.”

I stare at him. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Because I believe in you. And because you’re too damn stubborn to believe in yourself.”

I rub a hand down my face. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is, but also, we need eyes there,” Sanford counters and there it is . . . they need a someone to watch around. “Your brothers need more help than they want to admit. And Cassian just bought the bar. You got people there. People who give a fuck about you.”

“Yeah, I still don’t get why Cassian is suddenly a bartender,” I state. “And in Birchwood Springs of all the places.”

He shrugs. “You could give him a hand while you’re setting up shop.”

I let out a slow breath. Cass is probably doing more than just bartending. I know he’s an agent for the high intelligence company his brother-in-law owns. This is probably a nice way to ask me to be there, keeping an eye on the town. We know bad people are hanging out there, trying to take it over.

Fuck, I really hate that everything always ends up having to do with Birchwood Springs and me being stuck there. Even from the beginning. I was born and raised in Boston. Mom was sweet and one of the best people in the world. Dad was absent, but when he visited, he was loving. That’s how I remember my life up until I was six and Mom died.

Things all of a sudden went from a happy average life to a fucked-up nightmare where I was dragged away from my home into a small town where I had four older brothers who hated me. Their mother was cold with me. Until one day she took pity on me and decided to feed me, and treat me better than anyone else in that home.

“Give it a couple of years,” he insists. “If it doesn’t work, then we sell it.”

I shake my head. “Something tells me this is more than just about the shop.”

He nods.

“Of course it is. What else do you need?”

“Me?” He shakes his head. “Nothing. I saw how even when you pretend not to give two fucks you care about them—your brothers. It’s family. You didn’t have a great childhood, but maybe you can have a good relationship now that you’re adults.”

I laugh. I seriously laugh at his logic. He’s not the only one obsessed with my relationship with my siblings. Everyone who knows me swears things can get better. Doubtful.