Lovers at Heart (26 page)

“I’m not leaving.” Rex was right, his father
had
needed him. He took his father’s hand in his own.

“Rex is coming back in after he takes care of the morning chores. I’m sure it’ll be fine if you want to take shifts.”

“Savannah, I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t mean to sound gruff, but seeing his father in the hospital bed brought memories of his mother racing back to him. In her last months, she’d been in and out of the hospital too many times to count, and she’d looked just like Dad did now: small and weak beneath the sterile hospital sheets.

“Okay, okay. Dane finally got my messages. He’s in Australia and he’s taking the next flight home.”

“Did you reach Hugh?” Treat clenched his jaw. He’d kill Hugh if he had some lame excuse not to come home.

“He’s on his way, and before you can ask, Josh is on his way, too. He had to move his schedule around before he could leave,” she said. She moved to the seat closer to Treat. “Do you want to talk?”

“No. I want the doctors to finish the goddamned tests and tell us what the hell is wrong with him.”

His father stirred.

“Dad?” Treat rose to his feet as his father blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“Treat? What are you doing here?” He looked around the hospital, confused. “What the?” He looked down at his gown. “Aw, shit. Really?” He frowned at Savannah.

Treat breathed a sigh of relief to see his father hadn’t lost his spunk. That had to be a good sign.

“You weren’t able to breathe, Dad. What did you want me to do, let you die right there in front of me?” Savannah asked.

“Wait. Savannah, you were at Dad’s? Why? I thought you went back to New York.”

His father’s low, rumbly voice answered him. “Turns out Connor Dean’s more than a client, and your sister here seems to have had a falling out with the man who isn’t good enough for her family to meet but is apparently good enough for her to jet all over the world with.”

Treat lifted his brows in Savannah’s direction and held his palm out in question.

Savannah half shrugged, then turned away—her familiar
I can’t talk about it right now
mannerism.

He couldn’t focus on Savannah and Connor right then. He patted his dad’s shoulder. “Dad, you should probably settle down. They’re running all sorts of tests to see what happened, but they think it might have been your heart.”

“
Pfft
. I saw your mother again; that’s all. Your sister overreacted.”

Savannah and Treat exchanged a worried look. Treat thought back to when he’d first arrived at the bungalow. He’d sworn his mother was nearby, and even now he wondered if she had been.

His father pushed the button on his bed and raised it so he could sit up properly. “Don’t think I didn’t see that look, you two.”

“Dad,” Savannah began. “We’re just worried about you.”

“Well, how about you worry about yourself a little more. And you.” He pointed at Treat. “Your mother is worried sick about you. What the hell are you doing about that sweet girl, Max?”

This time the look he and Savannah exchanged was one of annoyance.

Luckily, before they went any further down the mother road, the doctor came into the room. Dr. Mason Carpenter had been their father’s physician for as long as Treat could remember. When he retired two years earlier, his son and partner in the medical practice, Dr. Ben Carpenter, had taken over.

Ben and Treat had grown up together, and Treat not only trusted his medical judgment, but he had always found Ben to be a loyal friend. He shook Ben’s hand and pulled him into an embrace, giving him a strong pat on the back.

“Treat, good to see you,” Ben said, his eyes shifting to Savannah.

Ben had had a crush on Savannah when they were younger. Now, as Ben drank her in, Treat remembered the summer after Savannah completed ninth grade and he and Ben had been home from college. Savannah had realized that her body was no longer that of a young girl and had flaunted it as such, much to Treat’s dismay. Ben hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her then, and from the look in his eyes now, his feelings hadn’t changed one bit.

“Savannah, you’re still here.”

“I’m not leaving anytime soon.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Ben.

Treat gave her a harsh glare. Their father had taught each of them better manners than that. Had she lost her mind?

“Don’t mind her, Ben. She’s been up all night,” Treat said.

“Benjamin, when am I getting out of this place?” Hal asked.

Ben smiled and squeezed Hal’s wrist. “Well, Mr. Braden, I have to ask you a few questions. What were you doing when your symptoms began? Savannah wasn’t sure. Were you doing anything strenuous?”

“I told you. He was in the barn when I found him—”

“The last time I looked, honey, I was Mr. Braden. Now, he might have been talking to Treat, I suppose, but Ben here has been to medical school, and I can’t imagine by the way he looks at you that he would mistake you for a mister.”

Ben blushed.

Savannah stewed.

Treat laughed under his breath.
Yup, Dad. You’re just fine
.

“To answer your question, I was in the barn with Hope,” his father answered. “And, Ben, call me Hal, please. How many years have I been telling you that?”

“And were you brushing her? Mucking out the stall? What exactly were you doing?”

Treat had to smile at the way Ben ignored his father’s request. Ben had told his father at least a dozen times that he had too much respect for him to call him by his first name, and his father still hadn’t stopped grumbling about it.

His father set his mouth in a serious line and crossed his arms. Treat watched his father’s biceps bounce to the same rhythm of his clenching jaw. Sitting up, with annoyance stewing just under his skin, his father no longer looked small or sickly in the hospital gown. He looked like he was ready to haul his butt out of bed and get back to work.

There’s the dad I know and love. Thank you, God
.

“Mr. Braden?” Ben urged.

Hal shook his head, then said with a grumble, “Oh, all right. But I don’t want to hear any crap about this, you hear me, Benjamin?”

“Yes, sir. No crap.” Ben flashed a knowing smile at Treat.

Ben had seen his father through every mood on the spectrum. He and his parents had enjoyed many barbeques at the ranch with his family, even though Savannah had never given him the time of day.

“I was talking to Adriana.” He scanned his children’s faces first, then his doctor’s.

Treat knew his father saw exactly what he did on Savannah and Ben’s faces— pity. He worked hard to keep that same look from being recognizable on his.

“Don’t look at me like that. It doesn’t matter what you think of it. Adriana was there, and she was watching over Hope the same way I was.” He shifted his eyes to Treat and pointed a finger. “And you remember what I told you. She’s worried that you’re going to get so lost in your own little world of resorts and whatever the hell else eats up your time and forget about the thing that matters most.” He patted his heart with his strong hand.

Ben drew his eyebrows together, and Treat held his palms up toward the ceiling, as if to say,
That’s Dad for you.
But Treat couldn’t lie to himself. His father’s words ran through his head, stirring up the message he’d been giving himself all night.
Go get Max.

“Mr. Braden, I don’t doubt that you believe you saw your wife, or that you have ongoing conversations with her.”

“Oh Jesus, really, Ben?” Savannah said with a sigh.

Treat touched her arm and nodded toward the chair. She sat down and crossed her arms and legs, bouncing her foot up and down.

“Hear me out, please, Savannah.” Ben continued. “Your father had all the symptoms of a heart attack, but luckily” —he stressed the word
luckily
and looked at Savannah as he said it— “what he actually suffered was a case of broken heart syndrome.”

“Okay, you know what?” Savannah rose to her feet and headed for the door. “I can’t listen to this nonsense anymore. Treat, get me when…just get me after, okay?”

Treat went to his father’s side. “I’m sorry, Ben. She’s apparently had a rough time lately. Please continue.”
I think I have broken heart syndrome
.

“Broken heart syndrome can mirror all of the symptoms of a massive heart attack, from difficulty breathing and chest pain to low blood pressure and even weakening of the heart muscle.”

“That sounds like a heart attack. What’s the difference?” Treat held his father’s wrist. Feeling his pulse helped to settle his increasing worry.

“Well, BHS is also called stress cardiomyopathy, because it’s caused by severe stress, usually emotional—extreme fear, anger, surprise. There are two major differences between a heart attack and BHS. The first is that most heart attacks occur due to blockages and blood clots forming in the coronary arteries. If those clots cut off the blood supply to the heart for a long enough time, the heart muscle cells can die, leaving the patient with permanent and irreversible damage. But with BHS, patients have fairly normal coronary arteries, like your father does, without the presence of severe blockage or clots.”

Treat squeezed his father’s wrist.
No blockage. No clots. Good arteries
.

Ben continued. “The second difference is that with stress cardiomyopathy, the heart cells are stunned by the adrenaline and other stress hormones, but not killed as they are with a heart attack. And as I’m certain we’ll find with your father, that stunned effect gets better very quickly, often within just a few short days. So even if a patient suffers severe heart muscle weakness at the time of the event, the heart completely recovers within just a few weeks, and in most cases, there’s no permanent damage.”

“And that’s what you expect with Dad?”
That’s it. I’m definitely spending more time at home.

“Yes, exactly. And from what we’ve seen with BHS, there’s no pattern of recurrence. It can happen, but we’ve never observed a second recurrence.”

“So, you’re saying I was too emotional and had a fake heart attack that weakened the heart muscle, but it’ll repair itself and I’ll be fine?” Hal asked.

“Yes, sir. And the damage to your heart muscles was minimal, so you should make a full recovery.”

Hal started to get out of bed. “Well, then, I can go home and run my ranch.”

Ben put a hand on Hal’s arm. “Not so fast. We’re going to watch you for the next few hours. We gave you some medication to lighten the load on your heart while you recover, and I’ll go over the protocol with you before you’re released. I want to monitor you for the next few hours, but then you should be good to go.”

“So he should be okay?” Treat asked.

“Yes, but…” He looked at Hal. “Mr. Braden, you cannot go back to working the ranch like I know you want to right away. You should recover in a month or two, but during that time, I don’t want you to do any strenuous work. Treat, can I count on you to ensure that he complies?” Ben ignored Hal’s groan and the harsh stare he set on him.

“Of course,” Treat answered.

“He’s got his own life to lead, Benjamin. What kind of crap is that?” Hal lowered his voice to a grumble. “I’m a big boy. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Of course you don’t, Mr. Braden. I’m sure you’ll go home and do exactly what I advise, because you were always so compliant with my father.” Ben coughed and said, “Broken arm,” at the same time.

Treat cracked a smile at his friend’s levity and his father’s simmering anger. Years earlier, his father had suffered a fractured arm, and instead of listening to Ben’s father’s medical advice, he was back on his favorite horse later that afternoon—and was back in the doctor’s office two hours later, after the fracture had morphed into a full break and he’d needed a cast.

“Ben, thank you. I really appreciate you taking such good care of him.” Treat shook Ben’s hand.

“Do you want me to send Savannah in if I see her?” Ben asked.

“No need. I’m right here, and I heard all of it.” Savannah walked in with her cell phone in her hand and suspicious red rings around the edges of her eyes.

Treat immediately knew his sister had been crying. He put his hand protectively on the small of her back when she came to their father’s bedside.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, Savannah,” Ben said.

She nodded, then took her father’s hand. “So basically Dad needs to stop talking to Mom and stop worrying about us?”

Ben smiled. “Well, given that I don’t think your father will ever stop doing either one of those things, no. For now we’ll just go with something a little easier, like maybe talking out some of his frustrations instead of holding them in.”

“I’m not talking to a therapist, if that’s what you’re saying, Benjamin. Your father would never ask me to do that,” Hal said.

“Dad, you’ll do whatever he tells you to do,” Savannah said.

“No, Mr. Braden. I would never think of advising such a thing. My father schooled me well in the way of the Bradens. What I recommend is that when you are worried—or your wife is worried”—he ignored Savannah’s eye roll and continued— “about something like your children, talk to them about it. Don’t keep it inside. And if there are troubles with the ranch, talk it through with Rex.”

“Or me,” Treat added.

“Did I hear my name?” Rex came through the door, his eyes locked on his father’s, then slowly met Treat’s. “Talk what through with me?”

“I was telling your father that he needed to stop holding things inside, and if he has issues with the ranch, to talk them through with you…or Treat, I suppose,” Ben said.

“Treat’s never here,” Savannah argued.

“Of course, Dad.” Rex kept his eyes locked on his father. “You can count on me, and Savannah’s right, Treat’s never here.”

“I will be from now on,” Treat retorted.
Rex, my ass
.

I SHOULD NEVER be allowed to drink again,
Max thought as she reached for her throbbing head. It took only a few seconds for her to recognize Chaz and Kaylie’s guest room. The combination of the pictures of the twins on the dresser and their happy little voices filtering into the room were hard to miss.