Page 71 of I Hate You More

“Spencer. Are you being an idiot on purpose?”

“What? It’s true. Do you know the first thing Mom asks anytime I visit her? ‘How’s Caleb?’ ‘What’s Caleb up to?’ ‘Why didn’t you bring Caleb along?’” He shook his head. “She couldn’t care less whether or not I’m there. I’m only valuable as a conduit to you.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“People light up when you walk into a room,” Spencer continued. “It never used to bother me—not really, not in any way that mattered. I mean, it wasannoying, obviously, but that was fine. You could be the shiny twin, the happy twin, the better-looking twin. I didn’t need any of that. I had my work and my dog show. I had Eva and Maury and Lawson.”

“You still have all those things,” Caleb pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong. Spencer did have all those things, and there was a good chance he always would. His friends had always been there for him, and the world would always need veterinarians. His place in life—at least on the surface—was secure. And had he never met Ruby, it might have been enough. He could have continued along in his narrow little world, content with how small it was, how rigid, never knowing what lay outside the duct-taped line he’d put around his heart.

But hehadmet her, and he’d fallen in love with her, and the duct-taped line around his heart was as useless as the one on his living room floor.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Spencer said, his voice cracking. He didn’t say who theshein question was, but there was no need. “I told her I didn’t care about her stupid job or Wheezy’s stupid papers, that I’d throw the whole damn dog show out the window if it would make her happy. I offered her everything I have, and she just…quit.”

“She quit.”

“Yes.”

“Ruby quit.”

“Caleb, now’s not the time to mess with me. Can’t you tell I’m barely holding on here?”

Apparently, he couldn’t. “Rubyquit,” Caleb said again, this time emphasizing her name. “The same Ruby who’s haunted this place for two months? The same Ruby who drags an unwilling dog on a three-mile walk every day? The same Ruby who built a stage in the backyard and watched every single Westminster Dog Show recording in existence?”

That last one caught Spencer’s interest. “She watched all of them?”

“Of course she did. I once mentioned—in passing, mind you—that she could catch up on a few championship rounds to see what real winners looked like. Three days later, she could name every single Best in Show dating back to the ’70s. Their breeds, their names,andtheir handlers. I was curious about that last one, but she admitted to emailing a few of them for advice.”

Spencer gave a reluctant chuckle. That sounded like the Ruby he knew—the one who’d stop at nothing to get her way, who refused to let anything stand between her and what she wanted most.

Only she doesn’t want me. I’m the one thing she didn’t bother fighting for.

Caleb must have noticed the sudden shift in Spencer’s mood because he heaved a sigh and held out an imperative hand. “Give me ten dollars.”

“What? Why? Use your own money.”

“I don’t have any money. You know that better than anyone. Just hand it over.”

Spencer was curious enough to reach for his wallet and extract a bill. “All I have is a fifty,” he said as he handed it over.

“Of course you do.” Caleb held the bill up between two fingers. “I’ll bet you this fifty bucks that I can hop on one leg longer than you.”

Spencer could only stare at his brother. Never mind that there were far more important matters weighing him down right now; the idea of Caleb placing a bet against him with his own money was ridiculous. Not to mention entirely against the rehabilitation that was supposed to have made him a functioning member of society.

“Right or left, I don’t care. You pick.” Caleb nudged Caesar aside and got to his feet. He looked so casually confident, so sure of himself, that Spencer felt his every competitive instinct sit up and take notice.

He steeled both his jaw and his resolve against those instincts. “I’m not playing this game with you,” he said.

“Why? Afraid I’ll win?”

“Of course not. It has nothing to do with winning or losing. You shouldn’t be gambling, that’s all.”

“You shouldn’t have slept with an entrant in your dog show, yet here we are.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened even more. He could list all the things he shouldn’t have done where Ruby was concerned, but none of that mattered. It was the thing hecouldn’tlist—that mysterious thing he’d done wrong—that was going to end him.

“It’s different,” he protested. “You only just got the ankle monitor off. If you’re already slipping back into your old habits, you need more meetings, more classes. If money is an issue, I’ll pay for them. I’ll find you a good therapist, someone you can talk to when the urge gets to be too much—”