Page 63 of Skye's Fall

“I was wondering if you could help me with something?” I ask the table.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Something big, but I have to wait until he gets home. I need to feel him out first,” I tell them and they are all in.

“Hopefully, no one passes out this time,” Ever chuckles, looking at Memphis.

“He passed out?” Alexa asks.

“No, she did,” I tell them.

“Oh, shit,” Snow replies.

“Not the best thing to happen during a proposal, but we figured it out,” Ever smiles.

“I can only hope that one day I get that,” Alexa replies sadly. I think she will. She doesn’t see it, but Mason looks at her like Memphis looks at Ever. I know she had a thing for Bobby, but Mason is much better suited for her.

“I think you might find a cowboy instead of a prince,” I tell her and she blushes. Yeah, there’s a future in that.

Everyone will get their happy ending, just as it should be.

Chapter Thirty-One

Lincoln

“Sir, you can’t sit here. If you’re here to see a patient, then come in. If not, I’m asking you to leave,” an orderly informs me.

“I’m coming in,” I grumble.

I’ve been sitting in the parking lot of a rehabilitation center for an hour, trying to work up the courage to go in. I know I need to, I just don’t know if I can.

I got to Texas and crashed after I drove straight through. I cleared my head, rested, and yesterday called Dayton, who hooked me up with his friend. I found out my dad had checked himself into this facility. He’s been here since he and my mother stole from me and sold my ranch.

I climb out of my truck and head to the front door, definitely needing answers to all my questions and to the ones added when I found out this is where he’s been for the past several months.

“I’m here to see Ralston Styles,” I tell the receptionist.

“And you are?” She looks at me like I am an intruder, or a murderer, just because I want to see my dad.

“His son, Lincoln,” I reply. She pulls a file and looks over a sheet before turning back to me.

“Ah, yes. Here’s your visitor pass. You have two hours,” she says. “Go down the hall, he usually sits in the garden.”

“Does he have visitors?”

“No, you’re the first,” she tells me with a frown. She probably thinks I’m a shit son because I’ve never visited.

“His wife doesn’t come? Angie?”

“No, as I said, you’re the first he’s had,” she tells me. I just nod and follow the signs to the garden. It’s an enclosed garden, like those you would see in Vegas. I follow the path until I see my dad sitting on a bench, reading a book. He’s never read a book, I don’t think. He looks different and the same. He’s not skinny anymore from all the puking he did when he got drunk. He looks healthier, like he’s put on some weight.

“Dad?”

“Linc, what are you doing here?” He looks surprised to see me. Same, old man, I’m surprised I’m here as well.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Lots to talk about.”