Everything seems fine for about the first mile. My brothers give me shit about my new tattoos. I pretend that Tim is getting soft around the middle, and we all joke that Thatcher is starting to look like a shiny bodybuilder, his muscles are getting so big.

Then, Tim falls back beside me, letting Ty run on ahead, and I know it's all about to go down. "I read Emma's article about you," he says. "Why didn't you tell me you had a show at the Conservatory? I would have ...