Leaving my entire family out back, I round the side of the house and find Jed and my dad talking while shooting baskets on the driveway.
“All I’m saying is I understand how lost you feel, but imagine Emilia. Think about her.” My dad shoots the ball.
“Fathers usually have nine months to figure this s**t out. I had a couple weeks to prepare to have a kid. Hank, I’m not the ‘number one dad’ T-shirt-wearing kinda guy.”
“Then be the ‘number one dad’ mug kinda guy,” my dad says.
Jed blows out a breath, shoots the basketball—missing his shot by five feet—and spots me from the corner of his eye. “Am I being ambushed?”
I grab the basketball and dribble around.
“You’re not being ambushed,” I say, shooting and scoring.
My dad grabs the ball.
Jed puts his hands on his hips, his head falling fo
