Page 70 of I Hate You More

“It’s not like he’s dead,” Spencer said. “I could text him right now, and he’d be here in ten minutes. Probably less.”

The look Caesar gave him, his eyes wet and accusatory, dared him to make good on that threat. It was a feeling Spencer understood well. Since the moment he’d driven away from Mrs. Orson’s house—and away from Ruby—all he’d wanted to do was to call his brother. Caleb was the last man anyone should turn to for relationship advice, and he’d probably spend half the time laughing at how badly Spencer had messed things up, but he didn’t care.

He wanted his brother. And Caesar, unable to eat or sleep or do anything without his favorite Wilson twin near, felt the same.

“You could at least pretend to love me,” Spencer accused as he slid down the wall and came to rest beside the dog. Caesar didn’t go so far as to shower him with affection, but he did roll his head onto Spencer’s lap, which counted for something. “I’m the one you’re stuck with, so you might as well make the best of it.”

Caesar’s warm, heavy bulk went a long way in soothing Spencer’s lacerated feelings. Even though he was the animal’s second choice, he was grateful to have him near. There were some things a man wasn’t meant to bear alone.

A broken heart was one of them—especially since he didn’t knowwhyit had happened. Ruby was the person who was supposed to see behind the stiff facade to the man he was underneath, the person who stepped up and met him challenge for challenge.

She was smart and strong and everything he desired…and she wanted nothing to do with him.

A loud thumping caused both Spencer and Caesar to jump. Spencer was so deep in his morose reflections that it took him a moment to identify the cause, but Caesar was on his feet and whirling in circles right away. His stub of a tail waggled back and forth, both his age and his stupor forgotten in a sudden burst of joy.

The thump sounded again, followed immediately by a jingle of the front doorknob.

“I know you’re in there, Spencer!” Caleb’s voice—mocking and loud and more welcome than Caleb would ever know—blared through the door. “And I can see that you had the locks changed again. Very funny. Let me in.”

Spencer scrambled to his feet and unlocked the door. It swung open, missing his face by inches, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. The sight of his brother—in ratty jeans and a well-worn band T-shirt, his hair still too long and his shoes coming apart at the soles—was so welcome that Spencer wrapped him in a hug as he pulled him through the door.

And Spencer—who rarely initiated a hug with anyone, who hadn’t done more than shake hands with his brother in years—wasn’t the first to let go.

“Well, shit.” Caleb’s soft laugh sounded as he extricated himself from Spencer’s grasp. He stepped back and took a good look at Spencer’s face. Those dark eyes, so much like his own, didn’t stop searching until they found what they were looking for—and what he found wasn’t good. “Eva wasn’t kidding, was she? You’re in rough shape.”

Spencer didn’t bother to deny it. “Eva called you?”

“Eva called me. Eva texted me. Eva stopped by Lawson’s house and demanded that I do something.” Caleb laughed again, but the sound carried more concern than delight this time. “I thought she was exaggerating when she said you’ve done nothing but mope for the past few days, but she was right. You look like hell.”

“I feel like hell,” Spencer admitted. “But you’d better do something about this dog of yours because he’s not going to stop until you pet him.”

“He’s not my dog,” Caleb said, but they both knew it wasn’t true. As his brother crouched down to say hello to the bulldog, it was evident that Caesar had long since made his choice. He whimpered and burrowed as though he wouldn’t be satisfied until he shared Caleb’s skin. “Don’t take it to heart, Brother dear. I’m the one who really carries roast beef in my pocket.”

“As soon as you have somewhere permanent to live, you can have him.” Spencer gestured for Caleb to come the rest of the way in the house, where the duct-tape line was starting to peel in several places. “I’ll miss the old rascal, but it’s obvious he prefers you to me. I don’t have the heart to stand in the way of true love.”

Caleb released a low whistle. “It’s as bad as that, huh?”

Spencer didn’t have to answer. Caleb already knew.

“Then you’d better tell me what happened,” Caleb said. He came into the house, glanced around at the newly cleaned interior, and shook his head. “And don’t leave anything out. I haven’t seen the place look like this since the day I moved in.”

Spencer watched as his brother settled himself on the couch and patted for Caesar to join him. The ancient bulldog had trouble pulling himself up to that height, and Spencer had long since given up on asking him to make the attempt, but he managed to do it.

He did it because Caleb was the one asking. He did it because he wanted nothing more than to be near the person he loved most.

“How do you do it?” Spencer asked with a nod down at the pair of them.

Caleb lifted an enquiring eyebrow. “How do I make Caesar love me?”

“Caesar. Mom and Dad. Eva. Everyone.” Spencer tried not to sound bitter, but he didn’t have much success. He sounded bitter because hewasbitter. “How is it that you can disappear for months at a time—years, even—and show up only to have everyone fall at your feet? What is it about you that’s so lovable?What do you have that I don’t?”

That last question came out dangerous, and Spencer could only hope his brother understood that his anger had nothing to do with Caleb and everything to do with himself. His whole life, he’d done all the things he was supposed to: got good grades, was kind to animals, paid his bills on time, and bailed his brother out when he needed it. When none of that made him happy, he’d changed course. He’d fallen for Ruby, broken all his self-imposed rules, and offered her everything he had.

And she’d rejected him.

“Is this a trick question?” Caleb stopped in the middle of petting Caesar, his hands poised motionless above his fur.

“Of course it’s not.” Spencer sank to the recliner nearest the couch, suddenly so weary that he could no longer remain standing. “Our whole lives, everyone has liked you better than me. Hell,Ilike you better than me. It doesn’t matter what you do or how bad you mess up. The doors always stay open.”