I nearly dialed 911 on the tattooed teenager holding a screaming baby inside an empty 1 AM laundromat. Then his bag tore open, and my stomach sank with utter shame.

his face.

“Daddy, your eyebrows are worried.”

Rachel looked away.

So did I.

Jackson kissed Emma’s forehead.

“I love you, Bug.”

“I love you bigger.”

“Impossible.”

“Possible!”

Then she took Rachel’s hand and walked toward the little table.

Jackson and I sat in his car for ninety minutes.

He gripped the steering wheel even though we were parked.

At one point, he continue reading …