Page 6 of Fractured Trust

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.Intimatetouches.

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.”

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