Fractured Trust by L. M. Dalgleish

Chapter 12

“Earth to fucking Noah.” The snap in Zac’s voice shook Noah out of his dark thoughts.

“What?” he asked.

“I asked you to count us in, and you just sat there staring at nothing twirling your sticks around like a fucking majorette.”

Noah closed his fingers over his drumsticks, stopping the movement, and frowned, pissed off at himself for losing track of what he was doing. Too damn busy remembering the train wreck of a night last week when he and Summer had proven once again that they couldn’t be around each other without things going to hell. Even if having her back in his arms for that far too brief period had felt suspiciously like heaven.

Nope, not going there. It’d been a mistake, and that was it. “Sorry, I just got distracted for a second.”

Zac’s eyes pierced into his, but he only nodded slowly. “Okay, well, this is the last song, so try to stay focused. We need to get this wrapped up, so we can start putting the new album together.”

Noah gave him a curt nod in return, sparing a glance at Beau and Devon, who were regarding him with thinly veiled curiosity. They knew how unusual it was for Noah to be off his game when it came to drumming. Normally he was a machine with how exact he was. But when he gave them a casual grin and tapped his sticks together to count them in, they both dropped their stares and concentrated on the music.

Half an hour later, after they’d fiddled with some of the timings, and Noah had thrown in a couple of new fills just to mix it up a bit and prove he had his head in the game, they were done.

The four of them packed up their gear and then cracked open some beers and sat on the couches outside the soundproofed studio to relax before heading home.

Noah was only half listening to the conversation going on around him as he looked down at his bottle and slowly peeled the label off. It took him a moment to realize someone was speaking to him. He glanced up, catching Beau’s gaze on him. One dark brow was raised and his blue eyes—several shades darker than Noah’s own—were looking at him questioningly.

“Are you okay, man? You seem out of it today?”

Noah cleared this throat. “Yeah, sure. Just something on my mind, that’s all. What were you saying?”

“I said that our best friend is coming to visit in a couple of weeks. We haven’t seen her in forever. We’re going to take her out on the town if you guys and the others want to come along. Give her the real L.A. experience.”

“Yeah sure, man,” Noah said. He wasn’t as close to Beau and Devon as he was with Zac, Tex, and Connor, but they were good guys, he enjoyed hanging out with them. They were both hungry for the kind of success Fractured had, but they had good heads on their shoulders. They’d do well.

Noah blinked, realizing he was thinking about their success separate from his own. Where had that come from? His eyes darted to Zac, who was leaning back in his chair, staring at the floor, but with his mouth lifted up at the corners as he listened to Beau and Devon talking excitedly about their friend’s visit.

He didn’t know why he’d started thinking about Crossfire going on without him. Drumming was his life. As much as he had concerns about how to balance his commitments, he didn’t really have the first clue how he’d fill his spare time if he gave up Crossfire now.

He grimaced as pale green eyes flitted through his head. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Moment of insanity—several moments of insanity—aside, there was nothing between them. Couldn’t be anything between them.

Still, his memory drew him back.

It was their second date. As much as he’d tried to be a perfect gentleman on their first, dropping her off at her door with only a chaste, if lingering, kiss on her cheek, he’d desperately wanted to feel his lips on hers. So now, sitting in his pickup out the front of her house as her eyes glimmered palely in the moonlight, he eased closer. The delicate floral scent of her perfume, which made him think of a field of wildflowers, teased his nose. He could hear the hitch in her breath, see the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat, the slightest widening of her eyes, and knew she was as eager for this as he was.

He slid his hand into the softness of her hair and cupped the back of her head, then lowered his mouth to hers. The first touch of their lips sent a spark crackling over his body, like the shock of static electricity. Her mouth was soft and pliant under his, her skin warm under his other hand where it rested on her waist. With a groan, he stroked it upward, skimming the curve of her breast as he raised it and buried it in her hair as well, so he could tilt her head back and deepen the kiss. Her lips parted and his tongue slid into the sweetness of her mouth, her whimper sending fire racing through his body. When he finally pulled back, he watched her eyelids drift open, her pale green gaze hazy and unfocused as she gazed up at him, and the thought filtered through his mind that if only he could kiss her like that every day for the rest of his life, he’d be happy. Strangely enough, the idea didn’t freak him out. It felt… right.

Noah tipped his bottle back and finished the last of his beer in three long swallows, setting it down on the table with a clink, then looking up to catch Zac’s eyes on him. He was just opening his mouth to say something when his cell vibrated on the table where it sat next to the empty bottle.

He picked it up and checked the screen, then stood and paced a few feet away from the others so he could hear better.

“Hey, short stuff, what’s up?”

“Hi, Noah. Look, I need you to do me a favor,” Eden said.

“Yeah, sure. What is it?”

“Can you pick up Summer from the office and drop her home?”

“What? Why?”

Eden blew out a frustrated breath. “Her car’s in for servicing, and I was supposed to take her home, but I’m stuck in a meeting. I know you’re at the studio, so you’re not too far away.”

“Why can’t you call a car for her?”

There was a long, pregnant pause on the end of the phone before she spoke again, her words coming out in a rush. “Because I think she’s considering leaving, and I think it’s because of you, and I want you to talk to her and figure it out. Because I like her, and I enjoy working with her. So fix it. Please.”

Noah’s fingers tightened around his phone. Hearing that Summer was thinking about leaving sent ice trickling down his spine. If she left, he’d never get the chance to resolve this thing between them—this lingering ache he feared might never dissipate.

“Fine,” he barked.

After Eden babbled her thank you and rattled off Summer’s address, Noah hung up and slipped his phone into his back pocket, then leaned down and snatched his keys off the table.

“You off, man?” Devon asked.

“Yeah, Eden needs me to do her a favor.”

He caught Zac’s eyes again as he pivoted to leave. They were filled with cool amusement, like he somehow knew that Noah was rushing out of here to go pick up his ex-girlfriend. As if he knew exactly what had gone through his head when he’d heard she might be thinking of leaving. And he probably did the intuitive fucker.

Noah headed out the back door to the small, secured parking lot, and unlocked his Porsche 911 R. After sliding in, he waited for the gate to open and accelerated out onto the road. Winding his way through the L.A. traffic, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, wondering what the hell he was going to say to Summer when he saw her. Because the truth was that he didn’t want her to go. He hadn’t wanted her to go eleven years ago either, but she had, leaving him heartbroken in the process. And still… still, he wanted her to stay now.

He didn’t want to look too closely at what that meant.

Noah hadn’t figured out what he was going to do by the time he reached the office. Summer was already waiting outside. She was wearing a short blue dress with a hem that fluttered around her thighs in the light breeze. Before he could stop it, a mental image hit him: the slide of his hands under that fluttering hem, the smoothness of her skin, the drag of his fingertips against the silky fabric of her panties…

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel and his jaw clenched. Hard.

Summer’s face screwed up in confusion when he pulled up next to her since the car’s windows were tinted. He hit the switch to lower the passenger-side window and leaned over the center console. When she realized it was him, her face blanched. Not surprising considering how their last interaction had turned out.

She only hesitated for a second, though, before stepping forward, opening the door, and sliding in. Noah tried not to inhale too deeply as the scent of wildflowers filled the car.

He put the Porsche in gear, sensing her looking at him as he stared straight ahead, pulling out into traffic.

“What happened to Eden?” Her voice was soft, hesitant.

“She got tied up in a meeting.”

“And she asked you to pick me up?”

He didn’t have to look at her to know there was a crease between her brows.

“Yep.” He didn’t elaborate.

The awkward silence stretched out. Noah debated what to say—or whether he should say anything at all—to persuade her not to leave. He knew her taking the job had been his idea, but it was possible he hadn’t thought it through properly when he’d made the suggestion. Not having her around anymore might be the best thing for his sanity. But would it be the best thing for her? And damn it, he still cared about what was best for her. It was like an ingrained habit that over a decade apart hadn’t broken—to want her to be happy, to see her beautiful smile. No matter what had happened between them.

While he’d been thinking, Summer had been looking around the interior of his car. She turned to him, and when he risked a glance over at her, he could see the bemused expression on her face.

“What?” he asked.

“I didn’t think this would be the type of car you’d drive. I always picture you in a pickup. A luxury one these days, of course.” A hint of teasing had filtered into her voice. “But something you could throw a surfboard or a dirt bike in the back of.”

Noah looked around the narrow confines of the Porsche. It was true; he didn’t take this car out very often, preferring one of the several pickup trucks he owned—although most of them were refurbished classics, not luxury. But sometimes when he was driving in L.A. traffic, he chose this one for its maneuverability. He shifted gears, and his arm brushed hers, awareness of her proximity sending a pulse of heat through him.

“What, you don’t think I could strap a surfboard on the top of this baby?”

She laughed softly; the sound hitting him in the gut. Neither of them said anything else, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable as it should have been.

When Noah finally pulled up outside her apartment building, he scanned the area, his brows drawing down. “Why the hell are you living here?”

“Because this is what I can afford.” Summer’s eyes were wide at the sudden anger snapping through his words.

“This isn’t a safe neighborhood.”

Summer laughed lightly. “It’s fine, Noah.” When Noah didn’t relent, her expression sobered. She reached out to touch his arm. “Honestly, it’s safe. Just because it’s not an exclusive estate doesn’t mean it’s dangerous.”

Agitation coursed through him. Her reminder that he was living in luxury within a secure estate, while she was living in a small apartment in a dodgy area rubbed him the wrong way. He didn’t like it.

Summer pulled her hand back. “Well, thank you for the ride.” She gave him a tiny, uncertain smile, and before he could think twice, he was unbuckling his seat belt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m walking you to your door.”

“You don’t have to do that, Noah. I walk to my door on my own every day.”

“Well, not today,” he growled.

He shoved his car door open, slamming it behind him as he made his way around to the passenger side. Summer’s eyes were big as he opened her door for her.

She swung her long legs out and stood, looking at him with wary curiosity. And he got it because he wasn’t sure why he was acting this way either. But he couldn’t seem to stop.

“Come on,” he said, gruffly.

They walked to the front door of the apartment building, and he waited while Summer unlocked it. She turned to him, that same uncertain smile curving her lips. “Well, thanks—”

“Ask me to come in.” His voice was rough.

She gaped at him. “What?”

“I want to talk to you, and I don’t want to do it out here.”

Summer licked her lips, and she swallowed.

“Summer, ask me—”

“Okay, sure, come in.”

He followed her up the stairs and into her apartment, which was small but tidy, with vibrant pictures on the wall. A soft-looking throw blanket hung from the back of her couch. It was exactly the way he’d imagined a place of hers would look.

“Why did you want to come in, Noah?” Summer’s voice was low, a hint of apprehension threading through it; she knew what he was going to ask.

“Because I need to know.”

Summer dropped her keys in a small bowl and crossed her arms, her eyes dipping to the floor. Then she met his gaze and let out a soft breath. “Okay, let’s get this over and done with.”

Now that they were finally going to have the conversation, Noah struggled to find the words. How do you ask the woman you once thought was going to be the love of your life why she threw it all away? Was he sure he wanted to know the answer?

He cleared his throat. “Right, well. I guess I only have one question, Summer. It’s the same one I’ve asked you before. What the hell happened?”

She shifted, her shoulders sagging briefly before she seemed to rally herself. She straightened and stared him directly in the eye. “You’ve had over a decade to figure it out, Noah. Or have all the women blended together in your mind?”

Frustration sizzled in his veins. It was the same old thing over and over. He’d never fucking cheated on her, so where did all this shit come from? He was tired of it.

Enough was enough.