Fractured Trust by L. M. Dalgleish
Chapter 30
It was like suffering through a withdrawal, not having Noah in her life again. She must be a masochist for putting herself through the same pain she’d been through once already. Wanting him was a constant ache in her chest; a need that vibrated through her bones; a longing that made the backs of her eyes burn with the constant threat of tears. At night, she’d toss and turn—her mind as restless as her body—while she tried desperately not to think about what Noah might be doing. And sometimes she’d lie there, shaking with anger at the unfairness of it; that her heart and soul should long for the one person who frightened her the most.
Two weeks after she’d ended things with Noah, Summer was sitting out on her tiny balcony, watching the sun set in a blaze of fire as it extinguished itself in the vastness of the ocean. An ocean that wasn’t visible from her apartment but that was there anyway—as vast and deep as the regret she was filled with. She’d poured herself a glass of wine, but had yet to take a sip, just holding it in her hand as she gazed out at the rose-gold-painted horizon and tried very hard not to let her mind wander into painful memories.
Her phone buzzed where it sat on the little table next to her, pulling her attention away from the darkening sky. She glanced down and the glass almost slipped from her hand. Noah’s name was on the screen.
Summer’s mouth went dry, her heart hammering. The wine glass clinked loudly on the table as she put it down with a suddenly shaky hand. She picked up the phone, biting her lip unconsciously as her finger hovered above the screen. What could he possibly be messaging her about? She swiped with trembling fingers, her eyes darting over the words.
Noah: In Tucson, about to go onstage. Wish me luck?
Summer blinked in confusion. The message was so mundane, so casual. As if she hadn’t shattered both of their hearts two weeks ago. Her brows drew together. Had he accidentally sent this message to her? Had he meant it for someone else, maybe Eden?
She tapped her lower lip, wondering what to do. Well, if he’d meant to send it to someone else, it was only polite to let him know he’d sent it to the wrong person.
Summer: Did you mean to send this to me?
A few seconds ticked by, and Summer fidgeted impatiently.
Noah: Yes.
Summer let her breath out in a rush. Okay. So, maybe this was him extending an olive branch. After all, if she was going to stay working for Eden, they needed to be okay with each other. Maybe that was what he was doing by reaching out.
She stared at his first message. It was stupid; his words didn’t change anything about their fucked-up situation. But just knowing that he was still thinking of her at that moment thawed a little of the ice that had filled her chest since she’d walked away from him. She didn’t deserve him. Didn’t deserve his… friendship. It took her a second before she could swallow past the tightness in her throat. Because that’s what this was. A text between friends. That’s all it could be.
She tapped out a quick reply.
Summer: Well, I would wish you luck, but we both know you don’t need it.
She waited with bated breath for a few minutes, but there was no reply. Maybe he’d already gone on stage. At least, she hoped that was it, and she hadn’t inadvertently upset him by questioning whether he’d meant to message her. She put her phone down and took a sip of her wine, closing her eyes and imagining Noah on stage, that smile on his face that always lit her up. For the first time in two weeks, her heart felt a little lighter.
A couple of hours later, as she was curled up in front of the television, torturing herself by watching a romcom, her phone beeped again. The shot of adrenaline she got when his name popped up told her it probably wasn’t a good idea to be indulging herself by talking to him. But she couldn’t help herself from immediately swiping at the screen to read what he’d written.
Noah: You were right, I killed it ;)
Summer’s smile felt funny on her face, considering she hadn’t worn the expression much over the last few weeks.
Summer: I knew you would. Stick with it kid, one day you might make it big.
Noah: Just got to get through the after party and then I can hit the sack. I must be getting old; I can’t party like I used to.
Summer’s hand trembled as she imagined him at the after party. Her eyes squeezed shut and she took a deep breath. She couldn’t worry about that. She’d broken it off with him to stop herself worrying about it. She wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to do—reassure her he was going to bed alone tonight? But he didn’t owe her that. Particularly after the way she’d ended things. Summer quickly tapped out a reply.
Summer: I’m sure once you’re there you’ll get your energy back.
There was no answer to her text, and Summer gnawed at her lip. God, she was an idiot. He’d been trying to do something nice, and she’d thrown it back in his face. Tears stung her eyes; she was such a mess.
That night she lay in bed, tossing and turning as usual, while she thought over what Noah’s messages meant, and what she should do if he messaged her again. Wondering if she should ask him to stop; to give them both more time to heal. It took her a long time to fall asleep.
As she sat in the office the next day, Summer’s eyes constantly strayed to her phone, wondering if she might get another message. She looked over at Eden, considering whether she could ask her what Noah was doing. Things hadn’t exactly been the same in the office since she and Noah had broken it off. Eden had guessed right away that things between them had ended when she’d caught a glimpse of Summer’s swollen, red-rimmed eyes the next morning.
She’d hugged Summer and asked if she wanted to talk about it, only nodding and giving her hand a squeeze when Summer shook her head, lips trembling. Not long afterward, Eden had disappeared for a while, and Summer got the feeling she’d talked to her brother, because every time she looked over at Summer after that, a little crease would form between her brows.
The good news was, she didn’t fire Summer, didn’t follow through on her promise to kick Summer’s ass if she hurt Noah. But the atmosphere in the office did change, and Summer couldn’t exactly put her finger on why that was, because Eden seemed to treat her just the same as before. Or maybe it was all in her head, just a manifestation of her guilt. Either way, Summer didn’t feel like she could talk to Eden about the situation. Instead, she tried her best to distract herself and push aside her overthinking, at least while she was at the office.
But that night, when she was trying to relax with a book to take her mind off things, the beeping of her phone jolted her upright. She told herself it wouldn’t be him, but her hand was shaking as she scrambled to pick it up.
Noah: The audience sounds crazy tonight. Makes me fear for my safety.
Summer captured her lower lip between her teeth to stop the smile that wanted to spread across her face.
Summer: Hopefully you’ll be able to fend them off with your drumsticks.
She waited, but there was no answer.
Summer blew out a frustrated breath, then tried to go about her business without thinking too much about it. But her heart leaped in her chest when her message notification went off a few hours later. She didn’t run for her phone—not really—but a smile curled her lips when she saw the name on the screen.
Noah: Broke my stick halfway through the set.
Summer: Maybe you need to stop beating your stick so hard.
Noah: When it comes to beating my stick, it’s go hard or go home.
Summer laughed out loud.
Noah: Heading to the after party.
She bit her lip, still hating the thought of Noah surrounded by women. Not sure what to say, she settled for not saying much.
Summer: Have fun.
There was no reply, and Summer let the hand holding her phone fall into her lap. What was she doing here, really? Wasn’t this just extending her pain? Should she tell him to stop messaging her, or cling on to these little hits of him to get her through?
Summer stared at the television, not really seeing what was playing as her thumb smoothed over and over the screen of her phone. An hour and a half later, her phone buzzed again. She swiped it open and stared at the photo he’d sent. It was just a shot of him and the three other guys, sitting on the leather couches on the tour bus. They were all smiling at the camera and Summer thought it must have been Lexie that took the photo. The message that came with it just said, ‘back on the road and off to the next town’.
Summer blinked, swallowed, then blinked again as tears welled up. Why was he doing this? Twice she’d broken his heart. Twice she’d let her insecurities hurt him. And still, he was being kind to her. As the tears trickled down her cheeks unchecked, she enlarged the photo until his face filled the screen, his blue eyes sparkling, his wide grin making her want to smile in return, even as she cried. She brushed a finger over his face, an errant tear splashing the glass. He looked happy. He looked like he was exactly where he should be. Where he belonged.
Letting him go had been the right thing to do. And maybe now that they’d resolved their pain from the past, maybe he’d be able to find someone he could share his life with. Someone who could love him exactly as he deserved to be loved. Wholeheartedly, without fear, without hurting him.
Her body shook with sobs. It might be the best thing for Noah, but the thought of him loving someone else was like a knife to her heart. And the worst part was that it wasn’t even Noah doing this to her. She was doing it to herself. Could she resign herself to a lifetime of this? Of never letting herself fall too hard in case she got hurt. Of never loving someone enough to care, just like he’d said?
She took a deep shuddering breath, her tears finally easing.
She quickly typed out a message.
Summer: Goodnight, Noah.
But as she sat there with her tears drying on her cheeks, her mind wandered back over her life, replaying those pivotal moments. The night she’d listened to her parents fighting and learned all about betrayal, the first time Noah had kissed her and her heart had beat so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest; the first time she’d seen a girl flirt with him in front of her and realized her heart could so easily be shattered too; the pain when Deacon had shown her that photo and how she’d believed it unquestioningly; Deacon kissing her; the pregnancy test; Deacon proposing and her saying yes; losing the baby; the wedding; the divorce. Noah again…
Noah and Deacon, they’d both had such a huge impact on her life. She wondered how things would have turned out if Deacon hadn’t done what he had. Would she and Noah still have been together, or would she have sabotaged the relationship, anyway?
Her body was numb, but her mind turned over and over. It was easy to blame Deacon, to point the finger and say if it weren’t for him, things would have been different. But they wouldn’t be because she wasn’t different. Deacon had done the wrong thing, no doubt about it. But she’d let him. She was almost certain that if Deacon hadn’t pushed the issue, she would have found another reason to walk away. Because while she’d learned early on that you couldn’t always trust the people you loved the most, she was the one that was wasting her life waiting for the pattern to repeat. And if she ever wanted a healthy, fulfilling relationship, she was the only one that could do something about it.
She remembered Noah’s words: You can’t keep running away. At some stage, you’re going to have to stand your ground and fight for what you want.
It struck her with sudden clarity. He was right. All she’d ever done was run away. She needed to learn to fight for what she wanted. For the future she wanted. That future might not include Noah; loving him and hurting him was a bad habit she needed to break. But living like this—or rather not living—wasn’t an option anymore.
A strange kind of peace flowed through Summer, and her eyes fluttered shut. There was nothing anyone else could do; it was up to her.