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.
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?