Page 5 of Fractured Trust

But later, after her friend Bree dropped her off at home, she’d stood in the middle of her quiet, empty house, feeling the same emptiness swelling inside her. She’d set her purse down on the coffee table, sunk down on the couch, and sobbed harder than she had in years.

She’d cried for her heartbroken teenage self, for the dreams that had been crushed many years ago, for the future she’d thought she’d been building with Deacon that had crumbled around her, and for the part of her that feared she’d never again feel the way she had for those two short years she’d been in love with Noah Taylor.

Summer touched her face, horrified to find tears trickling down her cheeks again. She angrily dashed them aside.

Get a grip,she told herself. She should be crying over her divorce—over the fact she didn’t have a job, and soon wouldn’t have a place to live if she didn’t get her butt in gear—not over a man she’d probably never see again.

Summer had just re-tightened her ponytail to prepare for another round of packing when there was a knock on her door. She frowned as she walked over to it, making sure the security chain was in place before she opened it because there wasn’t a peephole. It was probably Deacon since he’d taken to dropping around at random times in the apparent hope of convincing her to give them another chance. But better to be safe than sorry.

She cracked open the door and peered through the gap, sucking in a sharp breath and almost stumbling back in surprise; her white-knuckled grip on the door handle the only thing stopping her.

“Noah,” she breathed.

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.

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