Fractured Trust by L. M. Dalgleish

Chapter 3

Noah met Summer’s gaze through the gap and forced himself not to react. Her pale green eyes were wide and shocked, her full, pink lips parted as she stared at him. He hated that the sight of her still hit him like a blow to the chest, the way it always had, even when he was a teenager and saw her every day. Back then, he’d thought it was proof they were meant for each other. Now it just felt like his body was betraying him.

But fuck, she was just as gorgeous as she’d always been. More so, unfortunately. The soft girlishness of her teenage face now sculpted into a delicate oval, with high cheekbones and brows winging gracefully over those beautiful, wide eyes.

She was still staring at him through the partially open door, and it pissed him off that she was looking at him like he was an unwelcome guest—not the man who used to love her.

“Can I come in?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.

Summer didn’t move to unlatch the door. “What are you doing here, Noah?”

“I need to talk to you.”

A line formed between her eyebrows. “How do you even know where I live?”

He reined in his irritation. “Your address isn’t exactly a closely guarded secret.” When her lips pressed together, he realized he needed to tone it down, or she might shut the door in his face. Then this would end up a wasted trip. He cleared his throat. “Can I come in? Please.”

After a pause, which was far too long for his liking, Summer closed the door so she could undo the security chain. When she opened it again, she held it wide enough for him to enter. He strode past her to the middle of the living room, then turned, seeing her standing awkwardly, back almost pressed against the now-closed door. She’d wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, and her eyebrows were furled together as she watched him.

He tore his eyes away from the confusion on her face and scanned the room. Packing boxes, some partly filled and some still empty, sat on various surfaces around the room.

She was moving?

His gaze took in the rest of the space, and his forehead creased. If Summer hadn’t been standing right there, he would never have believed this was her house. He’d been expecting to see a riot of colors, soft fabrics, and beautiful pictures hanging on the wall; she’d always loved surrounding herself with things that brought her joy. But this room—with its monochrome paint scheme and minimalist furniture, all glass and metal and cool stone—this didn’t seem like her at all. Granted, it was a house she’d shared with her husband—his mind tripped over the word—but there should still have been evidence of the Summer he knew.

Except maybe the Summer you thought you knew never actually existed.

Reluctant to look at her, knowing he was being rude by ignoring her while he took in the room, he turned in a circle, his eyes sweeping over the stark space. His gaze snagged on a framed photo sitting at the top of one of the half-filled boxes next to him. He picked it up, staring at the picture of Summer in a simple lacy white dress, holding a bouquet and standing next to a grinning Deacon in a black suit.

Noah’s hand tightened around the frame. Finally, he let his eyes return to Summer, who was still watching him warily.

“Where are you moving to?” He wasn’t really interested in making small talk, but launching straight into a discussion about what the hell had happened all those years ago wasn’t exactly appealing either.

Noah didn’t miss the tiny grimace. “I’m not sure yet.”

“You’re packing, but you’re not sure where you’re moving to?”

She hesitated, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. While he waited for her to answer, he took the opportunity to look at her properly. His gaze drifted down over the swell of her full breasts under her thin pink shirt, to the graceful curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, and long legs displayed to perfection by her black leggings. She was still slender, but definitely curvier than she had been at eighteen.

The vision of peeling her out of her clothes and exploring those curves with his hands and mouth flashed through his head, sending heat flaring up his spine. Clenching his jaw, Noah forced it away; she was the last person he wanted to think about getting naked. He dragged his eyes back up, noticing for the first time the shadows under her eyes and the slight slump to her shoulders. She looked stressed, but he guessed divorce could probably do that to you.

Finally, Summer peeled herself away from the door and took a couple of steps forward, tugging the photo he was still holding out of his hand. She dropped it back into the box and folded the top down. “The house only just sold; I’ve got a bit of time. I just wanted to get a head start on the packing.” She exhaled shakily and met his gaze, her eyes guarded and tentative. “Why are you here, Noah? I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”

Noah turned away from her and studied the lighter patches on the wall where other pictures used to hang. He wondered how many of them had captured happy memories of the life she and Deacon had shared. He didn’t let himself think about whether she still owned any of the photos the two of them had taken together when they were crazy-in-love teenagers.

Noah scrubbed his hand over his mouth, then turned back to face her. “I thought it was about time you explained to me what was going on in your head eleven years ago.”

Summer’s lips parted, eyes widening. “Excuse me?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the p. “Seeing you at the concert in Chicago got me thinking. And I realized you never actually gave me a proper explanation why you decided to break up with me.” He tried to keep his tone casual—almost flippant—not wanting to let on exactly how much seeing her had been screwing with his mind. “All I got back then was a hysterical phone message”—he ignored her outraged gasp—“and you never did answer me when I called you back.”

Anger shone in Summer’s eyes, her cheekbones and the tips of her ears reddening. “Hysterical? You’ve got to be kidding me. You’ve got some nerve, coming here after tracking me down like a creeper, demanding an explanation, and accusing me of being hysterical. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove Noah, but I don’t owe you anything after what you did—not then, not now.” She spun on her heel and stalked to the door, putting her hand on the handle, obviously about to yank it open and demand he leave.

But he wasn’t ready to go yet. And somehow, seeing her shed the nervous, subdued demeanor she’d had since he’d arrived and get mad had done something to him. Eased his own anger into something not exactly softer, but not quite as jagged.

Back when they’d been dating, he’d always loved seeing Summer riled up. He wasn’t the cause of it all the time, but he’d had his fair share of moments when he’d teased her until her eyes flashed and a flush heated her cheeks as she readied herself to give him a piece of her mind. Which was when he’d give up the game and cover her mouth with his. He’d hold her slender body against him while he licked playfully at the seam of her lips, until she’d let out a frustrated huff and open for him. Then, after he’d spent long moments kissing her senseless, he’d break away, smooth her hair behind her ears as he smiled down at her, and apologize for whatever he’d said to piss her off.

But by then she’d be over it. Quick to anger, quick to forgive. That was his girl—

Just like that, his amusement at the memory faded. Because she hadn’t been his girl for a very long time.

Suddenly, Noah didn’t know what the hell he was doing here, standing in the house of this stranger wearing the face of someone he used to know—someone he used to love—and wondering if he’d ever known her at all. If she’d ever loved him at all.

“You’re right Summer. You don’t owe me anything. Obviously, this was a mistake, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a private jet waiting for me at the airport.”

Annoyed at himself for throwing that last obnoxious comment in, he made his way toward her, ready to blow this town and head back to L.A. and his fucking awesome life—a life that didn’t need Summer in it to be amazing.

A heavy knock on the door made Summer jump, and Noah stopped where he was.

Summer stared at him, and he could see her thoughts playing over her face. What would whoever was at the door think when she opened it to reveal Noah standing there? Someone most people in the US, and a large percentage of people worldwide, would recognize.

He grinned and crossed his arms, waiting to see what she was going to do.

Summer frowned at him. But when the knock came again, she rolled her eyes and turned, pulling the door open. She inhaled sharply and Noah’s jaw clenched so tight he thought his back teeth might crack.

“D-Deacon, what are you doing here?” Summer asked, tension ringing in her voice.

Before Deacon had a chance to answer, Noah stepped forward into his douchebag ex-friend’s line of sight. “You seem to be asking that question a lot today, Sunshine.”

Summer blinked over at him, and Noah kept his expression impassive, not wanting her to know his use of his old nickname for her hadn’t been on purpose. It had just slipped out.

While seeing Deacon standing in front of Summer had sent his blood pressure skyrocketing, Noah was trying very hard to appear relaxed. Deacon, on the other hand, wasn’t hiding a thing, the scowl on his face showing exactly how unhappy he was to find Noah in his ex-wife’s house. He turned his narrowed gaze on Summer. “What the hell is he doing here?”

The hostility in his tone caused Noah’s spine to stiffen. Summer’s eyes bounced between him and Deacon, that too-familiar little crease between her eyebrows. “I don’t really—”

“Summer and I are just catching up. We’ve got a lot to talk about,” Noah cut her off. Where the fuck was this shit coming from? He should be getting the hell away from here, not hanging around for what would obviously be anything but a friendly reunion.

Summer’s eyes bored into his. Then she turned her gaze back to her ex-husband, who had his dark brown eyes locked on Noah again. She reached out and gently touched Deacon’s arm to draw his attention back to her. That simple, familiar gesture sent a sudden flash of fire along Noah’s nerves, his fists clenching as he thought about how many such casual touches the two of them had shared. How many not so casual touches. Intimate touches.

Noah wrenched his gaze away as Summer lowered her voice and said something to Deacon, who snorted in derision but walked past her into the room.

“So, you’re packing.” Agitation filled Deacon’s voice while a muscle flexed in his jaw. Noah narrowed his eyes at the man. He was throwing off an awful lot of aggression; was there any possibility he’d ever gotten physical with Summer? Tension knotted Noah’s back, a different kind of anger smoldering to life inside him at the thought of Deacon—anyone—putting his hands on her. But he calmed himself by watching her body language. There didn’t appear to be any fear in her, just a muted energy he didn’t like seeing. As if Deacon’s presence had sucked some of the natural vitality out of her.

“It’s about time, don’t you think,” she replied to his comment, rubbing her hands on her thighs.

Deacon’s voice lowered, but Noah could still hear him. “You know I would have been happy for you to stay here. Selling the house was your idea. All of this was your idea.”

Noah couldn’t help the surge of satisfaction that rushed through him at hearing that the divorce had been Summer’s idea—that fucker Deacon deserved it. And when her eyes slid to meet his over her ex-husband’s shoulder, he gave her a smug grin.

A flush swept over her cheeks, and she turned her attention back to Deacon. Still grinning, Noah dropped down onto the hard black leather couch, resting his elbows on his knees, and unashamedly leaning forward, so he could hear what she was going to say.

“Deacon, we’ve talked about this. You know…”—her eyes flickered in Noah’s direction again before returning to her ex-husband, her voice lowering—“you know it wasn’t working.”

“It was working just fine. We were happy.”

“I wasn’t happy. I can’t believe you were either.”

Deacon grabbed for her hand, but Summer pulled it away, shaking her head. “Please, Deacon, I can’t keep having this conversation with you.”

“We shouldn’t be having this conversation at all!” He swung around and stared at Noah, his gaze narrowing and moving between the two of them before finally landing on Summer. “Is it him? Is he why you wanted a divorce? Are you fucking him again?” Deacon’s voice rang with accusation, and Noah found himself on his feet.

Summer spoke before Noah had a chance. “No, I’m not. He just turned up this morning. I haven’t seen him in…” She trailed off, and Noah realized she didn’t want to let him know they’d seen each other a few months ago, and that annoyed him more than anything.

“Since that meeting we had in Chicago a while back,” he interjected, watching with a little too much satisfaction as her eyes flared brightly with annoyance.

Deacon swung back to stare at Summer. “He’s why you’re divorcing me? The guy who broke your heart? That’s a pretty fucking dumb decision, Summer. What are you going to do when he does it again? You have no job, since you stupidly insisted on leaving your position at Dad’s company, and no place to live. Your life is a complete mess at the moment, and when he screws you over this time, I won’t be around to pick up the pieces.”

Icy anger whipped through Noah. Not only at the suggestion he’d screwed Summer over in the past, but at the stricken expression on her face. Without thinking, acting on instinct alone, he stepped forward, causing Deacon to step back in response.

“She has a job. In L.A.”