Lovers at Heart (The Bradens, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Eight, Lovers at Heart

Chapter Eight

TREAT’S CELL PHONE rang at eight o’clock the next morning. He fumbled with it, hoping it was Max, and answered without looking at the number. “Hello?”

“Since when do you leave your little sister at a party?”

Savannah. “You had Hugh to drive you home.”

“Hugh? Hugh! Hugh was too busy with supernova to even think about me. Lucky for you, Connor’s driver was free.” Savannah was trying to sound annoyed, but Treat knew her better than that. She was really fishing for information.

“Honey, I’m sorry about last night. I just went to sleep a few hours ago. Can I call you later?”

“So? How did it go with Max? I saw you two leaving looking at each other like you couldn’t wait to eat each other alive.”

“Nice talk from my baby sister,” Treat said with a smile. He draped his arm over his eyes and sighed. “I gotta go, Savannah. Love you.” As always, he waited for her to say goodbye. No matter how mad Treat was at any of his siblings, he never hung up on them. His mother’s death had been a painful reminder that he never knew just when he’d see or talk to them for the last time.

His bedroom door swung open. “Hey, asshole. You gonna get up and help Dad today or what?” Despite his harsh words, Rex was smiling.

“Rex? What the hell?”

“Just sayin’.” Rex left the door open, his obnoxious way of saying, If I’m not resting, neither are you.

Treat pulled his exhausted body from the bed and trudged across the room to the bathroom. He’d taken that short walk a million times before, and never had it felt so lonely. He leaned over the sink and looked at himself in the mirror—really looked at himself. The dark eyes, tousled hair, and perfectly golden tan had always served him well with women. Treat knew what he looked like compared to most men. He appreciated the genes he and his siblings had been blessed with, and even though he appreciated it, he acknowledged the fact that he’d abused that gift for a very long time. Now, as he struggled to look past the beautiful exterior, to see what Max had seen, he found that he didn’t have to dig very deep. He saw the jealous, scared man who had given her a look of revulsion. He’d been aware of the look even as it settled onto his face like a mask. He’d known the hurt it would cause, and he’d still let it come through.

I’m an asshole.

A prick.

A goddamned chickenshit.

He turned on the shower, waiting until it was steaming hot to step in. The water singed his skin, and he made no effort to cool the temperature. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He knew better than to do things that might hurt a person’s feelings, and the look he’d given Max in Nassau was hurtful and wrong. He knew what that look had said to her, and yet he’d still cast it in her direction. She’d given him that hurt right back on the boat—and he’d deserved it. I was an inconsiderate tool. The kind of man I would never spend time with. No wonder Max didn’t want to, either. He was pushing forty, and he understood how doing something like that brought shame on the family, even if they weren’t aware of what he’d done. He knew that no matter what, Max would always wonder if the rest of his family possessed the same asshole component that he did.

What had he been thinking last night? He never should have let things get so far without talking to her first. He’d known that, damn it. He’d known it then, but he’d let their desires lead the path. He’d never have done that with his career. You lead with your mind, not anything else. It figured that the one time he got it wrong was the one time that it mattered.