Page 1 of Fractured Trust

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 fuckinglivedfor.

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’therhe’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.

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