Page 60 of Fractured Trust

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 becauseshewasn’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.

Chapter 31

Summer sat in the slightly-too-hard leather seat, waiting nervously to be seen. She stared around the reception, at the posters on the walls, the cheerful receptionist, the bright blue sky visible through the large picture window on the far side of the office. She was nervous but hopeful. Hopeful that she was finally doing something right. She kept screwing things up, and she had no one to blame but herself. She needed to take responsibility for herself, and maybe one day, she would finally be the person she wanted to be.

Noah had kept messaging her every day. She hadn’t been strong enough to ask him to stop, as much as she knew she should. The fact that she was living each day anticipating his messages probably wasn’t the most emotionally healthy mindset. But maybe going forward, she’d be able to do what needed to be done.

Summer picked up a magazine and flicked through it distractedly while she waited. When the receptionist finally called her name, she looked up to find a kind-looking, older woman observing her from the door of her office. She stood, nervously smoothed down her skirt, and walked toward her.

The woman held out her hand. “Hi, Summer. I’m Dr. Jameson. I’m so pleased to meet you.”

After they shook hands, the doctor ushered Summer into her light, airy office, gesturing to one of two comfortable-looking armchairs on either side of a small wooden coffee table.

Summer sank down, lacing her hands together to stop the urge to fidget nervously, and placed them in her lap.

Dr. Jameson poured water from a sleek metal pitcher into two glasses, putting them both on coasters on the coffee table. Then she picked up a small leather-bound notebook and a pen and sat in the other chair opposite Summer.

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