“I’ve never been good at talking about feelings. First, I want to say I’m sorry.”
He looked down at his hands.
“When your mom died, I got scared. I thought working hard and teaching you responsibility would be enough. Somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be your dad.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“I remembered how much music meant to me, and how happy you were when you played. Then I realized I’d spent years trying to protect you from the very thing that made my own life worth living.”He gestured toward the studio.
“This place is yours now. Make music, sell the equipment, or do something else entirely. You don’t owe me forgiveness or gratitude. I just want you to have a choice.”
Frank and two of Dad’s former bandmates appeared behind him, joking that they needed a new guitarist and singer.
Dad smiled before turning back
