Lovers at Heart (28 page)

“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.”

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.

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.

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.