“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, and their 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 he couldn’t list—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—”