Page 51 of Subscriber Wars

She rolls her eyes. “When I get back, maybe you can pop another Midol, and we can talk strategy on the phone.”

I’m not so sure about that. Talking to her is worse than seeing her. Hell, everything that deals with Valentina sucks.

“What kind of dogs are they?”

I’ve always wanted a dog, but due to my sister’s condition, the only time I ever got to pet one was when they would bring the therapy dogs, so she could pet them. My mom said she couldn’t take care of me, my sister, and a puppy too.

“Different kinds. Mostly German Shepherds but there are few others. Why?” Vee is suspicious and rightfully so.

I shrug and put my hands in my pockets. “I’m just thinking maybe it would be cool if we did a shot of you and the dogs. Everyone loves dogs, right?” It’s true. “Animal videos go viral just as much as human ones. Who’s to say that we wouldn’t knock it out of the park with a dog video?”

“These aren’t puppies.”

“I know that,” I argue, “but they are rescues, which is even better. Who doesn’t like a couple doing charitable work with dogs?”

What could go wrong? Famous last words.

“So, what do you think? Want to try a video there? If it’s terrible, we don’t have to use it, and besides, it’ll be good publicity for your uncle’s charity, right?”

Vee still doesn’t look convinced, but I can tell she’s going to say yes. Even if she would like to junk punch me, she won’t, because, like me, she wants to win.

“I’ll call Brick. He can meet us there,” I say, pushing my new mower onto the patio because I have no idea what I’ll do with it until next week.

“Us?” Her voice is amused. “We aren’t riding together.”

I open the back door and nod for her to follow. “Why not? Aren’t you all about conserving fuel and shit?”

Her head tips to the sky, and she exhales loudly.

“I need five minutes to shower,” I promise. “You can have a popsicle while you wait.”

The last bit gets her, and she drops her head and follows me in.

The shelter Vee works at is a small outfit deep in the country. All rolling hills and wheat fields. “You make this drive every day?” I ask her.

“Not every day. Just a few days a week. My uncle doesn’t want me too distracted from my studies and sometimes I think he just likes being out here by himself with the dogs.”

“Oh,” I mumble. “Was he like your dad?”

I know she told me her father was once homeless and Aspen and Fenn’s mom helped him out.

“Yeah,” she says, but I can tell she doesn’t want to say much. “He’s better now, though.”

I nod. I’m not one to pry, even though her family history intrigues me.

The driveway is gravel and about a mile long when we pull in. It’s quaint and doesn’t look like a shelter at all. “Wait,” I say, throwing my Jeep in park. “Is this where your uncle lives too?”

She opens her door and gets out. “Yeah. He keeps the dogs here.”

Oh. Okay. Well, that changes things.

“Why do you look like you’re about to be sick?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not about to be sick. I just didn’t realize your uncle would be here. You just said he owned it.”

Her brows furrow as she looks at me, blinking several times. “Did you think he was never here?”

I wave her comment away and get out too. “I just thought he owned it. I didn’t know he’d be here and I’d like—” I’d have to meet him. “Never mind. It’s fine. Just took me off guard for a moment.” I reach into the back. “I’ll grab our stuff.”

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