Fractured Trust by L. M. Dalgleish
Chapter 1
Noah’s biceps burned from pounding the drums for almost two hours straight. His heart was thumping in time with the building backbeat, the jolt of each hit resonating in his bones. From his seat on the drum riser at the back of the huge stage, he had a bird’s-eye view out over the tens of thousands of fans that filled the venue. Their screaming faces were revealed in flashes as the spotlights sweeping overhead alternately blinded him and cast him in shadow. This right here, playing in front of a sold-out crowd with his band Fractured was what he fucking lived for.
Zac was standing a few feet away from the riser. He’d lowered his dark head over his bass guitar as he played, the deep, rhythmic tones winding through the throbbing pulse of Noah’s drums. On the far side of the stage, Tex’s hands moved lightning fast over the strings of his cherry red electric guitar as he wrung power chords from the instrument. He was grinning over at Connor, who was leaning into the microphone and belting out the lyrics to their encore song. A song currently ranked number one on the US music charts.
Working the kick drum pedal with one foot and the hi-hat with the other, Noah banged out a couple of quick, clean fills before reverting to the loose rolling beat that powered the song. Playing off the excitement from the crowd, he upped the tempo as they reached the final verse. Tex shot him a glance, his brow quirked, smile widening as his hands moved faster over the fretboard to keep up. A minute later, Noah wrapped up the encore performance with a machine gun snare roll and a gut-punch tom-tom counterpoint to Tex’s guitar riff. The resulting roar of approval from the fans reverberated in his ears.
As the last notes of the song faded, Noah held his sticks up high, a broad smile stretching across his face as the air filled with screams and catcalls. This feeling. He loved this feeling. The energy from the crowd beat against his skin the way he’d been beating his drums a few seconds ago, and he let himself sit and soak it in for a moment. Then he stood and maneuvered out from behind his kit, jumping down from the riser and striding to the front of the stage to join the other three men in thanking the fans.
The concert was over, but he could have played for another hour on the adrenaline pumping through his veins alone. While there’d be no more drumming tonight, there were other ways he could ride out the high. A few drinks at a club and a few hours with a woman would probably do the trick.
A flash of strawberry blonde jerked his head around. His pulse jumped as he scanned the area to the side of the stage to find whatever it was that had caught his eye. A couple of the female sound techs, one whose long hair underneath a black Fractured crew cap had captured his attention, were deep in conversation out of sight from the crowd as they frowned and gestured at an amp.
Noah turned back to the fans. He kept the smile on his face, but the buzz that had filled him before slowly bled away, leaving him drained. He hated those first few seconds. That moment of realization that it wasn’t her he’d seen. Hated the anger and disappointment that always warred inside him afterward.
Ever since he’d run into his high-school sweetheart, Summer, eight months ago in Chicago, his mind kept trying to convince him he’d heard her voice, seen a flash of her hair, glimpsed her face in the crowd.
The whole thing was fucking with his head.
With his smile still fixed in place, Noah joined his bandmates in giving one final farewell salute to the audience before they left the stage. As they made their way toward the dressing room, the roar from the fans still ringing in their ears, Tex caught up to him and clapped him on the back.
“You nailed it,” the guitarist said, in his whiskey-smooth Southern drawl. “Speeding up the last verse was genius. I had to hustle to keep up with you, but it added a fan-fuckin’-tastic punch to the end of the set.”
Noah pushed aside his thoughts of Summer and gave Tex a fake ‘aw-shucks’ grin. “Stop, you’re making me blush.”
Tex just laughed as he used his tattooed forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead, but Connor turned and spoke over his shoulder as he walked next to Zac in front of them. “I have to admit, man, you surprised me. Sitting in your pocket most of the song, keeping the beat rock solid like a fucking machine. I kept expecting you to explode with one of your ridiculously complicated licks. But you hit us with that subtle increase in tempo instead. It was perfect.”
Their words of praise flowed through him, easing some of the tension that had knotted his shoulders since he’d seen that flash of strawberry blonde. Though if he were being honest with himself, he’d been tense for about the last eight months—since Chicago.
It needed to stop. He needed to get past whatever the hell seeing Summer again had done to him. He should be over the fucking moon right now. He was the drummer for not one but two successful bands, raking in money, and surrounded by adoring fans. Instead, he was obsessing over what had happened eleven years ago when the girl he’d thought he’d end up marrying walked straight into the arms of another man.
A blur of long, blond hair whipping past him distracted him from his thoughts, as his sister, Eden, rushed over to throw herself at Tex with a huge smile on her face.
“You were amazing!” Her blue eyes—a shade darker than Noah’s own—were bright with adoration as she looked up at his bandmate.
Tex grinned, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist while he planted his lips on hers. When Eden buried her hands in Tex’s long, sun-bleached brown hair and deepened the kiss, Noah looked away. A half-smile, half-grimace twisted his mouth. After his initial reservations, he was finally getting used to the fact his little sister was dating one of his best friends. Realizing how happy she and Tex made each other had played a significant part in his coming around to the idea. And he’d known the guy for fifteen years; the guitarist would treat Eden right. Even if being with a musician wasn’t what he’d originally wanted for her.
After all, he’d learned the hard way the problems it could cause.
Noah’s half smile faded as an image of Summer intruded into his thoughts again. Summer, the girl he’d stupidly thought he’d end up making a life with. It had been over a decade since she’d broken his heart while he’d been on Fractured’s first tour. Seeing her again in Chicago while he was performing with his other band, Crossfire, had shaken him to the core. Thrown him into a pit of painful memories he was still trying to drag himself out of.
His mind circled back to that night eight months ago. To how his heart had kicked so hard in his chest at the sight of her seafoam green eyes and rose gold waves of hair that he’d lost his breath for a second. To how when her gaze had locked with his, it was as if eleven years hadn’t passed. As if they were both still eighteen, and she was waiting for him to finish his set, so he could take her back to his truck and make love to her in the bed of it, underneath the stars. The way he’d used to.
But then her eyes had dropped, and she’d turned her head away. The pain Noah had thought he’d gotten over years ago had billowed through him again, as if it had been there, buried deep in his chest, all along.
Because she wasn’t his anymore and hadn’t been for a very long time.
Even knowing that, Noah hadn’t been able to stop himself chasing her down at the end of the concert, needing to know what she was doing there, part of him hoping she’d tell him she’d come to see him, irritated at himself for his disappointment when it turned out she hadn’t even known he was in Crossfire.
Though he’d tried his best to appear unaffected when he’d spoken to her, the rush of painful memories had made him curt. Her friend’s eyes had darted between the two of them in amazed curiosity. And it had been her that dropped the information that Summer had just gotten divorced. A comment that had earned her a horrified look from Summer. But Noah’s jaw had clenched at the reminder that she’d chosen someone other than him to share her life with. And not just anyone, someone he’d used to think of as a friend.
He’d used that anger to pull himself back from her. To stop himself grabbing her and demanding an explanation right then and there as to why she’d broken it off with him all those years ago. Why she’d run to Deacon. Instead, he did what he’d always done, pushed the anger and hurt down as far as he could, then given her and her friend a polite—if cool—farewell, and watched them walk away.
He’d stood there, his bodyguard by his side to keep fans from approaching; for some reason needing to see if she’d turn to look back at him. As if it might mean something if she did. Her friend had shot a few wide-eyed looks over her shoulder, but Summer had kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she’d walked out the door.
Noah had spent the rest of the night at a succession of clubs, with an endless supply of alcohol and plenty of women that were more than happy to keep him company as he smiled and laughed and drank away the memory of the coolness in her eyes when she’d looked at him.
And he’d kept it up for the last eight months. Because as long as he could pretend that everything was fine, as long as he maintained that smile on his face, what did it matter if he were indulging a little too much in alcohol and women? It might not be the best coping strategy, but it was what would get him through until the hollow feeling in his chest disappeared and things went back to normal.
The way they eventually had eleven years ago.
On autopilot, Noah followed his friends into the dressing room. A shower and a beer or two sounded pretty good right about now.
* * *An hour later, Noah found himself sitting on a couch in the VIP section of some flashy L.A. club their manager, Drew, had arranged for them to make an appearance at. His knee was jiggling restlessly as he took a pull of his beer and looked around, scanning the crowd distractedly. He was sandwiched between Connor and Tex. Not exactly his favorite place to be, considering they both had their woman on their laps. And one of those women was his sister.
He met Zac’s gaze across the table and rolled his eyes when his friend smirked at him. But when Zac drained the rest of his beer and nodded at the bar, Noah dragged himself out from between his two other bandmates with relief, leaving his empty bottle on the table and following the bass player over there. One of the band’s security detail trailed discreetly behind them.
“Thanks for the rescue,” Noah said as he slid onto a vacant stool and rested his elbow on the bar.
“Not sure I’d be too happy sitting next to my friend and my sister while they’re making out.”
Noah shuddered. “Yeah, not exactly the highlight of my night.”
His attention was caught by two women standing behind Zac, a blonde and a brunette, who were giggling and staring at the two of them with wide, nervously excited eyes. They were both hot, and obviously out to impress in their tiny, painted-on dresses. But Noah wasn’t in the mood to deal with the kind of flirtation that would be involved if he gave them any indication he was interested. The last thing he felt like right then was having to coddle a woman who was too star-struck and self-conscious to have a good time in bed. What he really wanted was someone who didn’t give a damn who he was—just how good he could make her feel.
Strawberry blonde hair and pale green eyes flashed through his mind, and he quickly gestured to the man serving behind the bar for a shot; he needed to get Summer out of his head. When the bartender put the glass down in front of him, Noah picked it up and downed it, gesturing immediately for another.
Zac watched him; his darkly lashed hazel eyes assessing. “How are things, man?”
Noah threw the second shot back before turning to his friend and smiling. “Fine.” Then, feeling the weight of Zac’s gaze, he grinned and gestured around him. “I mean, what’s to complain about? Life is good.”
Zac grunted, then changed the topic. “Ready for another Crossfire tour?”
Noah nodded, the fingers of one hand tapping out a beat on the bar. “Yeah, it’ll be good to get out on the road again. I’ve been restless the last few weeks.”
Crossfire was the side project band he and Zac headed up. What had started out being a way to fill their time while Fractured was on hiatus—and for Zac to fulfill his desire to give being frontman a go—had taken on a life of its own. Crossfire was successful. Very successful. Not to the same level as Fractured, of course—although having two members of one of the biggest bands in the world making up half the lineup certainly hadn’t hurt their popularity—but their debut album had rocketed up the charts. Their first mini-tour, eight months ago—the one which had resulted in him bumping into Summer—had been a sell-out. And in a couple of weeks, they and the other two members of Crossfire, cousins Beau and Devon, would be heading out again.
“We won’t be back that long before the Fractured tour starts. It’s a pretty intense schedule. Are you going to be okay with that?” Zac asked him.
Noah made sure to keep his expression unconcerned. He wondered if the bassist was questioning his ability to keep up with the demands of being in two successful bands. Or maybe it was Noah’s distraction over the last few months that was worrying him.
Being part of Crossfire over the last couple of years had been exactly what Noah needed—he hated having too much downtime. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have some concerns about how things were going to change now that Fractured was back from hiatus and ramping up to begin touring again. As much fun as developing Crossfire had been, there was no doubt in Noah’s mind Fractured was his number one priority. He just wasn’t sure if Zac felt the same. Or what it might mean for the future if he didn’t.
But rather than burdening Zac with his worries, Noah only shrugged and smiled. “Keeps me busy. You know I don’t like sitting still for too long.”
A large presence at his back and a big hand on his shoulder told him Tex had joined them at the bar. “No, really? You don’t like sitting still? I never would have guessed,” Tex said, a smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth.
“Taking a break from sticking your tongue down my sister’s throat, are you?” Noah narrowed his eyes at him.
“Just until I can give her something else to—”
“Do you mind!” Noah barked, causing both Zac and Tex to burst into laughter.
“I don’t know what you thought I was gonna say,” Tex said, his amber eyes glinting with amusement as he ordered a glass of water and a whiskey from the bartender. “I’m just getting my girl something to wet her throat.”
Noah scowled at Tex. “Why does everything you say when you’re talking about my sister sound inappropriate?” he grumbled, making Zac and Tex chuckle again.
“I can’t help it if you have a dirty mind,” Tex said. He eyed the empty shot glass the bartender scooped up after placing the drinks he’d ordered down in front of him. Concern sharpened his amber eyes as he met Noah’s gaze. “I thought you were going to do something about the Summer situation.”
Noah’s foot started to tap against the leg of his stool. Tex had figured out a few months ago that his recent erratic behavior had something to do with Summer and had confronted him about it. But considering how things had gone down with Eden not long after that, he hadn’t raised the issue with Noah again. Until now.
“Have you thought any more about talking to her?” Tex asked.
Zac’s brows rose as he listened in. “You have Summer’s phone number?”
Noah shook his head. “I’m not going to call her.” He didn’t mention that he’d asked Drew, their manager, to track down Summer’s number and address. He wasn’t sure if getting Drew to do it made it more or less stalkerish. But he’d just needed to know that if he wanted to, he could do something about the tension that seemed almost permanently embedded in his neck and shoulders these days.
He noticed Tex and Zac exchanging a glance and rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, is having me sitting here getting in the way of your gossip session? Because if you need me to leave, there’s a couple of very attractive ladies over there that look like they could use some company.”
Tex followed Noah’s gaze to the two women standing farther down the bar. It appeared as if they might be about to pass out with excitement at the fact that not only were three members of Fractured mere feet away, but two of them were, gasp, looking at them. Zac hadn’t even bothered to turn around to see who Noah was talking about. He just shook his head, mouth curved in a wry smile.
Tex looked back at Noah and raised a brow. “You might think everyone’s buying your ‘nothing can get me down’ act, but that’s not the case. Drowning yourself in alcohol doesn’t make anything better. I’m living proof of that. And I’m even more confident drowning yourself in women isn’t gonna get Summer off your mind either. You need to figure this out, Noah. It’s been months since you saw her, and you’re still not back to normal.”
Noah resisted the urge to gesture to the bartender for another shot. Unfortunately, Tex was right. Acting like everything was fine wasn’t helping. The alcohol and women weren’t helping. Maybe he did need to bite the bullet and call Summer. Get it over and done with. Ask her the questions that had been burning in the back of his mind for the last eight months—hell, for the last eleven years. So he could finally move on from it all with a clear head.
“Maybe I’ll go see her,” he said, casually.
Go see her? Where the hell had that come from? He’d only been thinking about calling her. Did he really need to see her to find out why she’d done what she had all those years ago? Did he want to risk once again being dragged under by the painful memories? Or maybe it wasn’t the painful memories that were to blame. Maybe it was the weight of all the good ones that were slowly drowning him.
His mind took him there before he could stop it.
Rose gold hair hanging like a curtain around them; pale green eyes shimmering with happiness; his thumbs brushing pink stained cheeks as he tugged her face down to his; his lips sweeping along her jaw before capturing her mouth…
Noah’s heart twisted painfully. Realizing he was now tapping both hands, one on the bar and one on his thigh, plus his foot knocking against the stool leg as he unconsciously beat out the rhythm to one of their songs, he gave in and ordered another shot from the bartender.
Maybe he did need to be face-to-face with her when they spoke. Maybe he needed to see the truth in her eyes when she explained once and for all what the hell had gone wrong. Because all he had to go on was what she’d said in her message. And the sight that had seared itself into his memory when he’d gone home a few weeks later to talk to her.
Noah’s resolve grew. He needed answers. He hadn’t gotten them back then. Hadn’t confronted her about what he’d seen. He’d just walked away. He should have grabbed her and asked her what the hell she thought she was doing, throwing away their two fucking perfect years together. Throwing away the future he’d thought they’d have.
He picked up the shot the bartender had placed in front of him and tossed it back, relishing the burn as it washed down his throat. If he wanted answers, there was only one way he was going to get them.