Going to see Erika had been an impulsive move. A decision he’d made that morning. A desperate attempt to get things back on track. He hadn’t expected her reaction. He’d foolishly thought that once she saw him, she’d remember how great they were together. How could he have been so wrong?

At least he’d known what he’d planned to say when he saw her.

What the hell was he going to say to his dad?

Years of anger, sadness and uncertainty were likely to all come pouring out. The man was at a rehab facility dealing with an addiction. This wasn’t a good idea. Neither of them was in the right headspace for this.

An image of Erika’s cool reception made him shiver.

Would it be the same with his father? What would his dad say? He hadn’t even wanted Reed to know where he was.

It was now or never. He had to grow a set and get out of the damn truck. He couldn’t leave Anchorage without seeing him.

He climbed out of his truck and walked into the building. The waiting room was nicer than he’d expected. Beige walls and tan, comfortable-looking furniture. A fireplace and a small coffee and tea center set up beside it made the place look more like a hotel lobby than a clinic. Down the hall to his right, a set of doors led to an outside courtyard, and to the left was another hall, leading to intake rooms. Staff members went in and out, dressed in the same uniform of khaki pants and polo shirts with the Anchorage Addictions Treatment Center logo on them. Casual and comfortable.

His hands shook at his sides and he glanced outside.

“Can I help you?” a receptionist asked. The only thing giving away the purpose of the place was the fact that she was behind thick glass, speaking into a microphone. Her smile was warm and she had kind eyes—the perfect person to have behind the desk—but nothing could make him relax.

Too late to back out now. “Um, maybe. I’m here to see a...patient.” Was that the right term?

“Okay. Are they in long-term care or have they just recently checked in?”

Cassie had said her dad reached out only a few weeks ago, but who knew how long he’d been here before that. “He’s new, I think. Maybe a month.”

“If he’s recently checked into the thirty-day detox program, he won’t be able to see visitors...” She turned her attention to her computer. “Name?”

“George Reynolds.” He hadn’t said his dad’s name in so long, it stuck on his tongue. He folded his hands on the ledge as he waited for her to search the system.

“I see he checked in on November 22...” She continued to punch a few keys. “Are you family?”

“I’m his son.”