Lovers at Heart

by Melissa Foster

  Max sat straight up. “That’s not why I did it.”

  “Come on, Max. This is me you’re talking to. I can spot love from a mile away, and whatever it is that has you running away from him is not very different than whatever caused him to do the same to you.” Kaylie took Max’s cup into the kitchen to get her more coffee. “The only question that remains is, how do you fix it from here?”

  Max met her in the kitchen. “What do you mean? It’s already fixed. I’m not letting him give up the things he loves because of me. End of story. Done.”

  “Right,” Kaylie said with a roll of her eyes.

  “I gotta get home and shower and change. I’m sure Chaz can use some help at work. Then I have to find my cell phone.”

  “Well, don’t hurry too much. It’s already one o’clock, so he’s there for only a few more hours. Did you lose your phone?”

  “One o’clock? Oh, Kaylie. I’m so sorry. You should have woken me up.” Now I’m a drunken loser, too? I better pull my shit together or I’ll have to add lost job and lost friends to keep my boyfriend company on my Things I’ve Lost list.

  “Don’t be silly. Want me to call your phone?” she asked.

  “No, it’s not in my purse. It’s probably in my bags at my place. Kaylie, thank you for everything. I mean it. I’ll make it all up to you.”

  “No need. That’s what friends are for. But do me a favor. Please just tell me one thing. Did Treat have many women in Thailand?”

  Max laughed. “Not that I know of. It sounded like he was negotiating on a resort there and then changed his mind because of me.”

  “The man knows how to create a fortune, that’s for sure.”

  “He sure does,” Max said in a flat voice. “You know I don’t care about money, right?”

  “Yeah, I know. But it doesn’t hurt to know it’s there,” Kaylie said with a smile. “Security, Max. It does make life a little easier when you know you don’t have to sweat every dollar.”

  Max grabbed her purse and found her keys on the counter. “Well, he and I won’t be doing any sweating together, so for now I’ll be sweating it out on my own.” She gave Kaylie a hug. “I fixed the rug and made the bed.”

  “You didn’t have to do that. I moved the rug last night in case you barfed.”

  “Oh my God, Kaylie. Anything else I should know?” Can today get any worse? Max needed a hot shower, a toothbrush, a gallon of water, and about thirty straight hours of sleep.

  “Nope. That about sums up your night of debauchery. Let me know what happens with the man, and if you want to talk now that you’re sober—but after you brush your teeth—call me.”

  Max smiled. “You’re the best friend ever, you know that?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  TREAT AND SAVANNAH sat beside each other on their father’s couch. They’d brought him home at nine o’clock, and he was asleep by ten. Now it was nearing midnight and Treat felt like he’d been running underwater for the past twelve hours. He hadn’t heard back from Max, and he’d left enough messages that she surely had checked them by now.

  Rex came in from the barn and joined them in the living room. “Where’s Josh?”

  “In the shower. Want a beer?” Treat asked.

  “Nah, thanks. I think we need to have a family meeting.” Rex sat in the chair next to their father’s recliner.

  Josh joined them a few minutes later. “Savannah, do you want a drink before I sit down?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take some wine. Red, please.”

  “I’ll get it,” Treat offered. He went to the kitchen. Anything to stop the pain of staring at his father’s empty chair.

  In the kitchen, he pulled Josh to the side. “You heard from Hugh?” He didn’t want to ask in front of the others, knowing it would just lead to a brother bashing, and while Hugh probably deserved it, Treat didn’t need one more thing to worry about.

  “Yeah, he’s almost here. Got hung up on a layover.”

  Treat put an arm around Josh. “Are you doing okay?” Josh was the most sensitive of his brothers, and he wanted Josh to know that he was there if he wanted to talk.

  “Yeah, it scared me, though. I’ve never thought of Dad as someone who could get sick.”

  “Me either.” Treat took a swig of his beer. “It scared me, too, but I think Ben knows what he’s talking about, and if he thought this was anything other than stress cardiomyopathy he’d tell us.”

  “Do you believe in it? Broken heart syndrome?”

  Hell yes. I’m afraid I’ll be in the hospital next. “I don’t know, but I do know that Dad believes he still sees and talks to Mom, and I think he just might.”

  “Yeah,” Josh said. “Me too.”

  “Wine, please,” Savannah called to them.

  They settled into the living room, and for a while, they all sat in silence, nursing their drinks. Treat was surrounded by several of the people he loved most in the world, but with what his father was going through, his longing to see the others deepened: his father, Hugh, and Max. He wished Max were right there beside him, holding his hand. He didn’t feel whole without her. His hand felt empty for the first time in his life. The truth was, he’d barely noticed his hands before the last few days with Max, and now his palms had become like empty souls, crying out for her.

  The door opened, and they all turned toward it with a shush on their lips.

  “Dad’s asleep,” Savannah said as she went to hug her youngest brother. “He’s okay,” she said to him.

  Treat embraced Hugh. “You okay? Your trip all right?” He patted the back of his brother’s leather jacket. Even though he was eight years younger than Treat, tonight he could have passed for twenty-five instead of twenty-nine with his tousled, wavy black hair that feathered over his ears, badly in need of a trim, and his Levi’s and Reeboks.

  “Long, but I’m here, and that’s all that matters.” Hugh hugged his other two brothers and headed to the kitchen for a drink.

  “Do you want me to make you something to eat?” Savannah asked.

  “Nah. I grabbed a sandwich on the way here.” Hugh sat beside Savannah on the couch and kicked one ankle up on the opposite knee. “So Dad’s okay? What is this BHS?”

  Treat explained what the doctor had told them.

  “Sounds like it should be called BS to me,” Hugh joked, his brown eyes flitting from sibling to sibling.

  “Hugh.” Treat used the same voice he’d relied upon when his brothers were out-of-control teenagers. It didn’t always work, but it did right then.

  “I just mean that I don’t see why they call it that. Call it stress cardiomyopathy. Why does everything have to be about feelings?”

  Treat leaned forward, and Savannah put a gentle hand on his leg. “Leave it alone, Hugh. Who cares what they call it? The point is, he needs to take it easy for a few weeks.”

  “Which is precisely what I wanted to talk about,” Rex said. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should hire another ranch hand or two. I’m swamped and—”

  “No need,” Treat interrupted. “I’m gonna stick around for a while.”

  “You have your own businesses to run,” Josh said.

  “Yeah, Treat. You’ve worked too hard to give it up,” Savannah added.

  “I’m not giving them up. I’ve thought this through. Rex, you were right. I should have come home sooner. I’ll hire someone to do my overseas work and negotiating, and I’ll have to travel only a few times each month.” Just saying it aloud made him feel so much better. His dad’s illness had been a sign. Maybe Hugh wasn't the only selfish one of the group. Treat ran away to escape his own demons, and it was high time he faced them.

  “Treat, man, you don’t have to do that. I can deal with it. I’ll just hire a hand or two for a few weeks. We’ll be fine,” Rex said. His biceps flexed and unflexed, much like his father’s did when he was upset.

  “I know you can, Rex. This isn’t about you versus me,” Treat said.

  “Is this about your girl? Max?” J
osh’s question didn’t hold an ounce of resentment, as it might have if it had come from Rex.

  Treat had been so scared that his father wouldn’t pull through hour after hour while they waited for the prognosis, and he spent those countless, torturous hours thinking about Max’s letter. And now, as he looked into the eyes of his siblings, he knew it was time to slay his own demons. His family deserved his honesty, and if he was ever going to try to win Max back, she deserved a man free from the weight of his past.

  Treat took a deep breath, and with the image of Max’s smile guiding him, he began. “I’d be lying if I said this has nothing to do with Max. I love her. I do. I love Max, but I realized that I can’t be with her, or anyone else, until I get this off my chest. So to answer your question, this is really about all of you as much as it’s about me or Max. Rex, you’ve been calling me on this for years, and I’ve deflected every jab, not because they were untrue, as I claimed, but because they were too true, and too hurtful, to admit.” This was harder than he’d imagined. He dropped his eyes, grasping for courage. You can’t have an honest, happy relationship with a partner until you have an honest, happy relationship with yourself. Max’s voice brought the strength he needed to continue. “After Mom died, I failed you. Every one of you.”

  “What are you talking about? Jesus, Treat. You never failed us,” Josh said.

  “No, I did. I know I did. I never stepped up to the plate like I should have, and when it came time for college, and then after, I was relieved to move away, and as ashamed as that makes me, I need you to know the truth. The ranch was one big reminder of everything I didn’t do—everything I couldn’t do—for my family, for each of you.” He blinked away angry tears.

  “Treat,” Savannah said, reaching out to him.

  “Let him finish,” Rex said. All eyes turned on Rex. “He’s trying to tell us something. Let him get it off his chest.”

  “Thanks, Rex.” Treat didn’t know if Rex was waiting with bated breath for Treat to admit some sort of failure, or if he was just being a supportive brother, but it didn’t matter which one was more accurate. He was thankful either way to have his brother standing up for his right to speak. “Anyway, I worked my ass off to prove that I was worth something, and I realized today that I’ll never be the man Dad is.” He pointed to his father’s bedroom. “That man in there is a hell of a man, and I’m…I’m just a regular guy who never quite measured up to him.” He’d said it aloud, and now he waited for the I knew its and the It’s about times.

  Savannah’s arms were around his neck seconds later, her warm breath in his ear. “Treat, you have never let me down. You’re everything to me, and you’re every bit the man Dad is.”

  “Dude, you let me sleep in your bed, for God’s sake. Dad would never have done that,” Hugh said with a shake of his head. “You’re anything but a failure. You saved me.”

  “And me,” Josh admitted. “Treat, you were there every time I needed anything. You waited up for me at night and never let anyone bother me. You let me climb into your bed when I was scared, and you listened to me cry for weeks on end. Hell, you even gave me money for field trips.”

  “I had forgotten about that,” Treat said with a smile. Shit. He realized that Dane wasn’t there. It would have been easier to talk to them all at once, but since he’d already opened the floodgates, he might as well let the rest pour out. He’d have to talk with Dane alone after he arrived.

  Treat waited to see if Rex would say anything at all, but Rex just cracked his knuckles, leaned his elbows on his knees, and looked at Treat with a stoic face. The familiar Braden biceps dance was in full speed.

  “I’m not telling you guys this to fish for compliments. I’m telling you because it’s haunted me year after year, and I don’t want it to anymore. I’m ready to put down roots, and before I do that, I need to know that I’ve been honest with each of you. Rex, I’m sorry. You were right all along.”

  Rex got up and walked out the back door.

  “Let him go.”

  Dad. Treat spun around and found his father leaning against the stairs. “Dad, you should be in bed.”

  “I’ll go back to bed when I’m damned good and ready,” Hal said.

  “How much of that did you hear?” Treat asked.

  “Oh, I reckon I heard all of it. All of it that mattered, anyway.”

  Savannah and Treat went to his side as he moved toward the living room, and he shrugged them off. He settled into his recliner and looked long and hard at his eldest son.

  Treat had never felt so ashamed. It was one thing to tell his siblings, but a whole other thing to face the man who had raised him, who had poured his heart and soul into him, and to admit that he was a fake, a coward. He deserved everything his father was about to unload on him. He lowered himself into the chair beside his father’s recliner, never breaking eye contact, and in a shaky voice he recognized as the eleven-year-old boy who must have been buried deep inside of him, he said, “I’m sorry, Dad. You tried so hard to raise me right, and I wanted to make you proud, but I know what I am, and I was too ashamed to stay home and run the ranch with you.”

  His father’s mannerisms reflected Rex’s, and for a minute, Treat feared he might walk out just like his brother had. Instead his father reached for his hand and squeezed it in his large, strong hand. Tears rose in his father’s eyes, pulling forth tears in Treat’s.

  “Son, you are, and have always been, everything I ever hoped you’d be. You were barely eleven when your mama died, and barely nine when she first became ill.” Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he made no move to wipe them away.

  The pressure in Treat’s chest nearly knocked the wind out of him. “Dad.” He shook his head.

  “No, son. You were everything this family needed, and there has never been a time that you haven’t been.” He patted Treat’s hand with his other hand, then held his son’s hand between his own for another beat. “You see the faces of your sister and brothers? Do you see the love in their eyes? They are who they are in large part because of you. You taught them about strength and family. You taught them about love, and even when you let your little scraggly brothers in bed with you, and don’t think I didn’t know about that.” He looked at Josh and then Hugh. “You, Treat, and you alone, were giving them what I could not. The truth is, after your mama passed, she took part of me with her. I did what I could. I stepped up in every way I was able, but I’m just a man, like you and Rex, Dane, Hugh, and Josh. We’re all just who we are, and who we are is Bradens. And Bradens always do their best. Not one of my children has ever let me down.” He looked at Hugh, who had dropped his eyes to the floor. “Not Hugh when he didn’t show up for the ranch’s first auction.” He looked at Savannah. “Not our beautiful girl, Savannah, when she snuck out of the house when she was fifteen, and you, Treat, you had to haul her ass back home. And you never said a word to me about it.”

  Savannah’s eyes grew wide. “You knew?”

  He just shook his head with a smile, then looked at Josh, who was listening intently. “And not your brother Josh, when he decided to design dresses for a living.”

  Treat watched his brother melt under his father’s pride, and he knew that Josh had been waiting to hear that his whole life.

  “The point is, Treat, you might have needed to cleanse your soul so that you could start a life without that gorilla on your back, but you gotta know that it was your gorilla. It was a monkey that was devised by a little boy’s frightened mind and grew to a full-size gorilla that tried to weigh you down. While it might have weighed you down for a long while, you didn’t let it take over completely because it wasn’t real. I’m proud of you, son. That gorilla was just a figment of that little boy’s imagination, and you finally saw your way clear to climb out from under it.” He tapped the side of his head.

  Treat went to his father and held him longer, and tighter, than he ever had. He didn’t know if his father was right or not, but he appreciated every word his father said, and he
knew that he would never let him down.

  “Are you really thinking of putting down roots?” his father asked when they separated.

  “Not thinking about it. I’m acting on it,” Treat said. He looked at the back door.

  “Now, that boy, he’s got an even bigger monkey on his back than you did. Give him some time,” his father said.

  “I’m not sure what I did to him, specifically,” Treat said.

  “He’ll let you know when he’s good and ready,” his father said. “Just like you did.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  BY SATURDAY AFTERNOON Max was finally rested and feeling more like herself—with a broken heart. She hadn’t located her phone anywhere, and she’d called the airlines and finally the car rental company. They found her phone in the glove compartment of the car she’d rented and were sending it to her Priority Mail. She’d have it by Monday afternoon.

  She flipped on her computer to check her work e-mails and saw a message that had come through Facebook. Max loathed Facebook; the idea of posting updates about what she did all day seemed an enormous waste of time, right up there with tweeting and getting manicures. Well, maybe a manicure now and then would be nice. She clicked over to Facebook, deleted the spam message announcing a great new diet plan, but before clicking off, she typed in Ryan Cobain, Texas A&M. Within seconds, her ex-boyfriend’s photo was in front of her. She hadn’t set eyes on him in years. She leaned in closer and clicked on his name. His Facebook profile page flashed on the screen. There he was, smiling at the camera. His long brown hair was cut short, and his face had thinned. If she didn’t know him, she’d think he was a handsome, happy man. But she did know him. She looked into his green eyes and saw the same fiery mess of a man she’d seen the day she left. Slay those demons, played in her mind.

  Her fingers shook as she clicked on the message icon. No way would he respond, but she had to try to slay the demon that was strangling her a little more every day that she was without Treat.