Page 66 of I Hate You More

“How long did you work here?” he asked instead.

“A long time. Almost a decade.” As though unaware of the embargo he’d placed on the space between their bodies, she put a hand on his arm. “I never meant to lie about my job, Spencer. It was wrong of me to let it go on as long as I did, and I meant to tell you, I really did. But when you first assumed I was a doctor…” She lifted her hand away and pressed it to her cheek instead. “In that moment, I’d have said anything to get the better of you. You lookedsoincredulous, like it would have been more believable if I’d said I hatched from a dinosaur egg.”

It was true. Incredulity was exactly what he’d felt in that moment, but there was more to it than that. He’d also felt admiration for how dedicated she was to her job, seen how much it meant to her—the same amount as his own job meant to him. As far as he could tell, that was still true. She obviously loved this place, and from the way those women had turned to her when things got rough, it was obvious this place loved her back.

“I don’t care what your job is, Ruby. You could scrub toilets, and it wouldn’t make any difference to me.”

“Idoscrub toilets,” she responded. “That’s literally in the job description.”

Spencer rolled his shoulder in a half shrug. He wasn’t sure how to make her realize that he was in earnest, that thewhatof her profession wasn’t what impressed him. It was thehowof it that sent him reeling. How she showed up every day, how she gave it her all, how her presence positively impacted all those around her. By her own admission, she earned minimum wage, an income that justified punching a clock, fulfilling her duties, and little more.

But she was a part of a book club here. She trained Wheezy for hours every day. She knew all the residents by name and was on familiar and comfortable footing with them.

In this, as in all things, she gave of herselffully.

“Whether you’re a nursing assistant or a doctor, I admire what you do,” he said, knowing it was only half of what he wanted to say but unsure how to articulate the rest. What he really admired, and what he really loved, washer. “That’s the only thing that matters. I can forgive the rest.”

Next to him, she stiffened. The air between them—the air that had been crackling with so much promise seconds earlier—went flat.

“Forgive the rest?” she echoed.

It hadn’t been his intention to bring up Wheezy’s blood test, but the tone in her voice sent him into a sudden panic. She sounded cold and hard and a lot like he did when he was doing his best not to show Caleb how disappointed he was.

Jesus.No wonder Caleb hated it.

He tried for a smile. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t find out about Wheezy’s pedigree, did you?” He tilted his head back toward the house, where the not-quite-a-golden-retriever slumbered. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. As far as the West Coast Canine Classic is concerned, he has all the right papers, and you two are more than welcome to stick around and participate. Although Iamcurious. Where did they come from? For forgeries, they were well done.”

This confession didn’t, as he’d hoped, loosen Ruby back up. She shot to her feet like a bolt. Something about the way she loomed made her seem twelve feet tall.

He fumbled against the cardboard box of her belongings as he rose to join her. “What?” he asked, searching her face for clues as to what had gone wrong. “What did I say?”

“You know about Wheezy? How? When?”

“I mean, I knew from the first moment I saw him. He’s a good-looking animal, yes, and you could probably pull him off as a purebred golden retriever to anyone else, but judging every little detail is my thing. It’s what I do. Or what I always used to do, anyway.” He paused, doing his best to get the next part right. There was no denying that he was sometimestoogood at that aspect of his life, especially when it came to his brother, but that was the point. He was getting better. He was learning. Ruby had taught him that. “But it doesn’t matter to me anymore. That’s what I’m trying to say. Lawson got a DNA sample and had it tested, but we tossed it out. No one has to know if you don’t tell them.”

A strange flicker crossed her face. It was similar to her look of steely determination, of her resolve to win no matter what the costs, and was a sight to behold. It was also scary as all get-out. They weren’t trying to one-up each other now. They were on the same side.

Right?

“So…you forgive me for lying to you about my job?” she asked, speaking as though from the end of a long, dark tunnel.

“Yes.”

“And you also forgive me for lying about Wheezy’s eligibility?”

“Can’t you see?” he asked, almost desperate at how distant she sounded, how far out of reach. “Of course I don’t care what you do for a living. Or what you said to get Wheezy into the show. It doesn’t mean anything—none of it means anything. Not after the things we shared, the things wedid.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied him, distractedly scratching at her jawline with long, jerky movements. He wanted to tell her not to do that, to suggest that she take a Benadryl before those welts got even more inflamed than they already were—but he didn’t dare.

“And what if I asked you to let us win, me and Wheezy?” she asked. “Could you slip us a few extra points?”

“Probably. There are certain categories where we get extra leeway—”

“Or get us in good with Lawson and Eva?” she persisted. “Make sure they’re willing to throw the contest our way?”

“If it’s that important to you, I could talk to them, but…” Spencer glanced around, bewildered to find himself still standing on Mrs. Orson’s porch, still in the same world he’d been part of when he arrived. “What are you asking? You want me to cheat and let Wheezy win?”

“Yes. That’s exactly it.” She stopped scratching and dropped her hand like a deadweight. “And you’ll give it to me, won’t you? Just like that, no questions asked. Because we’re fucking? Because we fucked?”