Then it turned into something deeper—not as a replacement father figure even though his was never much of a father in the first place. But as someone who refuses to walk away when things get hard.

I saw a kid trying so hard to hold everything together, protecting everyone else while drowning in his own pain. He reminds me of my brother, not in the superficial ways people might assume. It's not about replacing what I've lost. It's about recognizing that same raw talent, that same fire that could either illuminate the world or reduce it to ashes.

I did what I had to do.

I got him out of Eden.

Away from the noise and the shadows that kept trying to pull him under. Because sometimes the only way to find yourself is to get lost somewhere new and face the demons without the familiar distractions, or in his case, the influences slowly poisoning him from the inside out.

I pulled every string I could, set him up with a job at one of my wineries in Europe. Something quiet and steady in a small Spanish town where sunlight spills over ancient stone walls and the air smells of salt and possibility.

A place where he could breathe. I told him to take time, figure himself out, and start living for himself instead of surviving for everyone else. I even nudged him toward the music. Hell, I all but pushed him. Because I've heard what that kid can do with a guitar and a pen. I saw the way people stopped mid-conversation when he played on opening night, like he was tapping into something universal and true. That kind of talent doesn't come along often, and I refuse to let it get buried under this town and his family's expectations.

And for once, he didn't argue. He just nodded, eyes glassy but determined, and I knew then that maybe, just maybe, he'd finally seen himself through someone else's eyes. Seen what I'd been trying to tell him all along.

Now he's over there, somewhere in the rolling hills of the town that changed my life many years ago, working the vineyards during the day and playing gigs at night in little bars where nobody knows his name or his story.

I get the occasional update—a text here, a grainy photo or sound bite of a melody he's playing around with—and each one feels like proof that sometimes, faith in someone pays off. He's still got a long road ahead, but he's walking it, one step at a time, finding his way back to himself.