I was wrong.
My father was one of the finest men I ever knew. He left me a great example and a cherished legacy, one I couldn't run from, no matter how ashamed I was to face it.
Every step I took brought more trouble, though. In those months after my father died, my uncle Nolan helped me discover I needed to make peace with a lot more than Phil Shannon's memory. So I did what any prodigal would do.
I decided to go home.
Deciding to go is one thing. Getting there is another matter.
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