“It’s not about the gambling,” Caleb said. “It’s never been about the gambling. I could have just as easily fallen into forgery or petty theft. The what of it doesn’t matter, just so long as there’s an element of danger. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it just so happens that my skill set leans toward a high tolerance for risk.”

“Do you even know how to forge things?” was all Spencer could think to reply.

Caleb squeezed his shoulders one last time before letting go. “I can’t win, Spencer. I can never win.”

In that instant, Spencer knew they weren’t talking about winning or losing at a game of chance. They were talking about something a lot more important than that.

“Our whole lives, you’ve been better than me at everything,” Caleb said, confirming Spencer’s suspicions. “You got better grades. You did your chores on time. You remembered to feed the dogs in the kennel every morning and to always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you?” Spencer tried now.

Caleb chuckled. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You were so damn good at everything, Spencer. You still are. No one ever doubted that you’d go to college and make something of yourself or that if you one day decided to run a dog show, you’d do it so well that people would travel hundreds of miles to make their pets preen in front of you. From the day we were born, your success was pretty much guaranteed.”

“That’s not true—” Spencer began, but Caleb wasn’t done yet.

“I’ve tried to do the same. Hit the books, study hard, mold myself into someone like you. It didn’t work, obviously, but no one could accuse me of not trying. Hell, I became a dog trainer for the sole reason that it was as close to a veterinarian as I could get without a degree. And I’m not even all that skilled at it.”

“You are skilled at it.”

Caleb snorted. “If Wheezy is any indication, I think we both know that’s a lie—but even that is just like you, isn’t it? Pretending I have half your drive and intelligence, that I could make something of myself if I dug in and applied myself.”

It was on the tip of Spencer’s tongue to point out that everything he’d just said was true and that the sky was the limit when it came to the things Caleb could do in this world, but he didn’t. Something approaching understanding was starting to seep its way into his brain, hazy now but gaining clarity the longer Caleb stood there talking.

“You’re just so damn good at everything all the time.” Caleb spoke without bitterness. “I’d hate you for it if I didn’t love you so much, but I do. Love you, I mean.”