Lovers at Heart

by Melissa Foster

  She typed in the chat box, Hey. How are you? Thought I’d see what you’ve been up to. Max. She hit return and then stared at the screen like it might come alive. Her body was poised to flee, or pounce; she didn’t know which. She waited a minute. Two.

  “That was stupid,” she said to the empty room and went to the kitchen. A few minutes later her computer chimed.

  Max froze.

  She took two steps toward the computer, then stopped. I don’t want to do this. Yes, I do. She took another step, then stopped again. No. No, I don’t.

  Another chime rang out.

  Shit. She clenched her jaw and went to the computer. “It’s not like he can see me.”

  She clicked on the chat box, and sure enough, there was a message from Ryan.

  Hey, Max. How are you?

  Her fingers hovered over the keys. She bit her lower lip and typed, Fine.

  A second later his message came through. Glad to hear it.

  What do I want to say? She shook her hands in the air as she thought, then hunkered down over the keyboard and typed, Where are you living?

  The computer chimed. Cheyenne, Wyoming. You?

  He was an hour and a half away. Max’s hands stopped cold. What was she doing? She didn’t want him to know where she lived, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she was already forming a plan.

  She typed, I’m in your area tomorrow for work. I’d like to come by and talk for a bit.

  He answered thirty seconds later. Working all day.

  Where?

  He answered, Cheyenne Crowne Inn. Off Central Ave.

  Can I stop by?

  He answered. I never thought you’d speak to me again. Yes, I’d like that. I have things to tell you.

  Okay. 1:00?

  He agreed, and Max closed her computer, her work e-mail long forgotten. She paced her apartment, thinking about the next day. Her heart raced and her mind ran in circles. She thought about asking Kaylie to go with her, but she knew Kaylie would just talk her out of it. She had to do this. She told Treat she had to slay her demons, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to do it. She was Max Armstrong. She’d left Ryan once, and she’d carried the nightmare of him with her like a silent predator. After tomorrow, she hoped to never feel like his prey again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  TREAT’S BEDROOM DOOR swung open at five thirty Sunday morning, and Rex peeked in with a victorious smile, which promptly faded when Treat stood, fully dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and greeted him. “You’re finally up?” He picked up his flannel shirt from the back of the chair, closed his laptop, patted Rex’s shoulder as he passed him in the doorway, and headed downstairs.

  They each filled a to-go cup with coffee and headed out into the cold morning air.

  “You’re gonna have to get me up to speed,” Treat said.

  “We’ve got the hired hands milking and moving. You and I are on fence repair. Something got into the back fifty and tore down a thirty-foot strip.”

  Treat climbed into the passenger side of the truck. “What got to it?”

  Rex shrugged as he pulled onto the grass. “It doesn’t much matter now, does it?”

  Great, an attitude before six a.m.

  The truck ambled over the fields, and Treat waited for Rex to bring up what he’d said the night before. The silence between them was not particularly uncomfortable, but as it stretched a beat too long, Treat tried to break the ice.

  “I checked on Dad. He seemed to be okay,” Treat said.

  “Good. Savannah’s got him covered for the day, and Josh said he’d monitor his meds.” Rex’s cowboy hat was tugged down low. He kept his eyes on the field, never once glancing at Treat.

  “You mind that I’m staying on for a while?” Treat asked.

  Rex shrugged. He parked the truck and they began unloading the wood, wire, and supplies.

  “Put ’em over there.” Rex pointed to a grassy area on the other side of the broken fence. “We’ll set up the sawhorses here and use that area there for the waste.”

  Treat did as he asked. He watched his brother pick up pieces of wood and throw them over his shoulder like they were toothpicks. Treat was a strong man, but even he had to admit that his brother had the bigger brawn and bulk. Where Treat had sleeker, though muscular, lines to his body, Rex’s body bubbled with muscles in places that Treat wasn’t even certain his body knew he should have muscles. Rex’s long-sleeved henley clung to those bubbling muscles all the way down to his waist.

  Instead of feeling envy for the brother who was clearly angry with him, Treat was proud of his younger brother. He’d spent his life taking care of the family ranch—and their father. That was something Treat hadn’t been strong enough to do, and now, he realized, he was able to admit that to himself without feeling shame in its wake.

  “You gonna help me or watch me?” Rex asked.

  Treat grabbed his hammer and followed his brother’s cursory instructions to a tee. He’d grown up helping with everything on the ranch from milking cows to fixing the siding on the barn. He was a bit out of practice, but it was all coming back to him. Each swing of the hammer brought with it memories of working alongside his father.

  Working beside Rex also brought out the competitive side of Treat, and the need for instructions quickly fell away as he sawed the wood to perfect length, secured the wire into place, and pounded the poles into the ground.

  When they headed into the house at lunchtime, Treat’s chest and arms already felt battered and bruised. He gritted his teeth against the annoying pain rather than let his brother see it.

  “Doing all right?” Rex asked as they drove toward the house.

  “Just fine.” Rex had a big chip on his shoulder. At some point, with Treat around more often than not, that chip was gonna get too heavy and come tumbling down, and Treat would be ready to catch Rex when he fell off balance.

  After spending the day doing hard physical labor, Treat expected to feel a longing to return to his fast-paced, career-oriented lifestyle, where he was surrounded by creature comforts and a hard day meant securing a purchase for another resort. At the minimum, he’d expected to feel a strong amount of trepidation about changing the way he did things, but as they pulled up to the ranch and he mulled over the suggestion from his attorney to hire more of a front man or woman and handle negotiations via Skype, he found that his longing wasn’t for more acquisitions at all. He longed to be with Max. The decision he’d made and the suggestion from the attorney both felt right.

  “Looks like Dane’s arrived,” Rex said, observing the forest-green Land Rover in the driveway.

  Great.

  “Hey, I made you guys lunch,” Savannah called from the kitchen.

  They kicked off their work boots and were intercepted by Dane as he came down the hallway.

  “You made it,” Treat said, embracing his brother. He’d spent much of the night thinking through how he was going to tell Dane what he’d told his other siblings. He was sure that he’d heard it at least three times from his siblings by now, but no matter how uncomfortable it made him, Treat was going to do it himself, in person, man to man. And what better time than the present?

  “You’re kidding, right? It was a long flight, but I’ve never missed an important family event.” Dane said.

  “Of course I was kidding. Come with me.” He led the way outside with Dane on his heels, and they settled into two chairs facing the fields.

  “I hear you’re staying for a while,” Dane said.

  “Yeah. It’s time.”

  “What about your resorts?”

  “Nothing’s gonna change except the amount of travel I’m doing and the number of new properties I’ll take on.” He looked at his brother relaxing in the chair beside him. His skin was tanned and his eyes were bright. He’d grown into a handsome man. Treat could hardly believe that he was pushing forty and Dane wasn’t far behind. How have the years passed so quickly? One day they’d be gathering like this for their father’s f
uneral, and it would most likely be in far fewer years than they’d all like to imagine. His father was strong, but no one was immortal.

  “We met Max. Did she tell you?” Dane asked.

  “Yeah.” Treat smiled, shook his head. He still couldn’t believe that she’d tracked down his father’s address and had actually shown up. Then she’d shown up in Wellfleet. And now she was gone. One thing at a time.

  “Pretty. Seems smart, a little shy, maybe? But I can see why you like her.”

  Treat’s body went rigid. She’s mine. He gave Dane a serious stare.

  “You really like her, don’t you?” Dane asked.

  “I love her, Dane,” he admitted.

  Dane nodded. “I’ve never heard those words come out of your mouth before.”

  “I’ve never felt them before,” Treat said. The truth tasted so sweet, almost as sweet as Max’s kisses. “Listen, Dane—”

  “Before you tell me, can I just say something I’ve been meaning to say for a long time?”

  “Sure.” Treat braced himself for a jab of truth. I was never a good enough brother.

  “It’s about Mary Jane.”

  Treat narrowed his eyes.

  “Right, well…” Dane took a deep breath. “The truth is, I wasn’t as hammered as I told you I was that night. I knew what I was doing.”

  “Why on earth are you telling me this now?” He couldn’t stop his hands from flexing.

  “Because the others told me what you said last night, and you need to know. I slept with her to feel like I was at least as good as you, Treat. Do you have any idea what it was like to grow up in your gigantic shadow?” Dane leaned forward, shaking his head.

  “My shadow isn’t so big, Dane.”

  “You have no idea. Anyway, it didn’t work. I felt even smaller afterward than I had before, and I know that has always undermined our relationship.” He looked up at Treat. “I’m sorry, bro. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

  Treat had never expected to hear anything even remotely close to what Dane had admitted, and because of that, he was at a loss for words.

  “I thought you should know because I know that you worry about me and any of your women friends. You don’t have to. I’m not that stupid kid anymore. I’d never do something as low or as demeaning as that to you or myself. Or to another woman. Mary Jane was a pawn to me.”

  “She wasn’t to me.” Treat’s chest tightened at the memory.

  Dane looked down. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

  Treat read the seriousness in Dane’s voice and knew he’d been carrying that burden for a long time. He appreciated the guts it took for his brother to slay his own dragon, and in an effort to ease the moment, he flashed a mischievous smile and teased, “Are you trying to tell me that you won’t try to tag Max with your giant spear?”

  “Not an inch of it.” Dane laughed. “Seriously, though, I’d never make the same mistake twice. Besides, there’s a certain someone who I can’t seem to get off my mind these last few months, so I might not be on the market for too much longer myself.”

  “Yeah?” Treat asked.

  “Yeah.” Dane leaned back in his chair and looked out at the beautiful mountains in the distance. “Yeah.”

  “So, they ratted me out to you already?” Treat asked, nodding toward the house.

  “I had three calls by three in the morning,” Dane said with a smile.

  Typical Braden hotline. “Who didn’t call?”

  “Who do you think?” Dane nodded toward Rex’s truck.

  “Right. I’m not sure what to make of things with Rex, but I’ll just take Dad’s advice and let him be. He’ll talk when he’s ready.”

  Dane got up to go inside and Treat held him back. Letting his siblings handle his admission for him was a cop-out. He needed to handle things himself if he was truly going to slay his demons with no regrets.

  After their mother had died, most of his siblings had fallen back on tears and had crawled into their own shells for a while, but Dane had exploded. He’d gone from being sweet and even-tempered, like he was now, to an angry, petulant boy. Treat tried to talk it out of him, but there were times when he’d let Dane spew his fury far too loud, and he’d always wished he hadn’t.

  “I’m sorry, Dane. I was the oldest, and I should have been there more. When you were angry—so angry—I should have tried harder.”

  “I was a little off my rocker, huh?” Dane said with a sad look in his eyes.

  “I think we all were. You know how much I love you, right?” There had never been any embarrassment wrapped around his love for his family, and today was no different.

  “Never had any doubt.” Dane stood and embraced Treat, then left his eldest brother alone to deal with the tears that had wet his cheeks.

  Treat looked out onto the property and envisioned the memory of his mother waving from horseback in the field. Treaty! He hoped she’d have been proud of him, even with his faults. Her constant hospital stays toward the end of her life dulled his active memories. God, he hated those times. And finally, he remembered the day his mother had come home from the hospital and he’d known in his heart that she wasn’t going to last very long. She’d become so frail. Her cheeks had lost their rosy glow months before. They’d become hollow, her arms and legs atrophied from her extended bed rest. He used to stand in her doorway when she was sleeping and just look at her, memorizing every feature as she slipped further and further away. One afternoon, when his father was in the field and the kids were out horsing around, she reached for him. He hadn’t even known she was awake. He still remembered the roughness of the hardwood floor beneath his bare feet as he crossed the room. When he reached the bed and took her hand in his own, it startled him. He could feel each slender bone beneath her nearly transparent skin. She opened her eyes then and smiled, and in that breath, he saw the mother she had always been: virile, loving, beautiful. She was too weak to keep her eyes open, and they fluttered closed. He held on to her hand long after it had gone limp, hoping, wishing, praying she’d open those beautiful eyes again. He held her hand until his father’s strong hands gripped his shoulders and dragged him away. Mom! Come back! Please! I’ll do better! I’ll help you more with the kids! I’ll help Dad on the farm! He struggled and fought against his father’s mighty grip until every fiber of his being was exhausted beyond repair and he collapsed into his father’s waiting arms. When he woke up the next day, he ran to his mother’s room. It was a dream! He pushed the heavy wooden door open. He remembered the creak, long and ominous, as the door came to a stop, revealing his mother’s empty bed.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  MAX HAD BEEN up all night, hoping and praying that she could carry out her plan, then second- and third-guessing it altogether. Twice she’d hauled herself out of bed to her computer and hovered over the keys, ready to nix the whole thing. In the end, she knew that if she didn’t follow through, what happened between them would continue to haunt her forever, and she’d never have any chance of a lasting relationship.

  She riffled through her clothes, looking for just the right thing to wear. Something that said, I’m strong. I’m capable. Her bedroom looked like a tornado had whirled through with jeans and skirts and slacks strewn over the bed and the floor. After two hours of shuffling, trying on, and shedding tears, she knew what she had to wear. She went to the front pocket of her suitcase, where she’d stuffed Treat’s Provincetown Aids Support Group T-shirt. She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply the scent of the man she loved but had set free, then slipped it on. Tucking it in was interesting, to say the least, since it hung almost to her knees. She’d finally given up and gathered the long shirt in her hands, tying the bottom into a ball at her waist, like she’d seen in television shows from the eighties. She threw a sweatshirt on over it and her most comfortable pair of jeans, then stared at her choices of boots and shoes.

  Sneakers. In case I freak out and have to bolt.

  THE CHEYENNE CROWNE Pointe Inn was built on the fl
attest piece of ground Max had ever seen. It stood alone among the parking lots and grassy lawn. There’s no place to hide. She eased past the hotel, scoping it out, this place where she would finally confront her demons. The building looked like any other hotel, a few stories high, big windows, mostly curtained, and a circular drive that led to a covered entrance.

  Why am I here?

  Max turned around and drove by the hotel in the other direction, contemplating getting back on the highway and returning home. She crossed in front of the hotel two more times, until she was sure that the Cheyenne police would spot her and arrest her for stalking. That would be just my luck. She surveyed the parking lot again, and a shiver ran down her back. The hotel was too far off the beaten track; no one could see her there.

  Oh no!

  Maybe that was Ryan’s plan. Lure her to a remote location and do something horrible to her. He’d said he had something to talk to her about. Maybe that was a ruse. Wait—she’d contacted him. She was being stupid. They were in a public place. She’d be fine. She hoped.

  She parked at the far end of the parking lot, giving herself plenty of time on the way in to change her mind and turn back. She held on to the edge of Treat’s T-shirt beneath her sweatshirt. When she reached the entrance, she stopped to try and calm her racing pulse. She paced the sidewalk, then unzipped her sweatshirt so she could see Treat’s shirt beneath. She pulled forward memories of the way he cared for her, the way he nurtured her. That’s what she wanted, to be nurtured, to be healed. She had to go inside and do this—cleanse herself from the memories that stalked her like prey and pulled her back from every forward step she took.

  Max took a deep breath and walked through the glass doors. The young dark-haired woman behind the desk smiled.

  “Welcome to the Crowne Point Inn!”

  Her high-pitched enthusiasm cut right through Max’s anxiety like a knife, causing her to freeze in the middle of the floor of the large, open lobby. Walk. Leave. Do something! Her mind warred with itself, confusing her legs into frozen pillars. Was she insane? This was the worst idea ever.