Rising Stars Duet Book 2
Blurb
This isn’t a love story.
This is a heart chasing fate.
Lee
I’m standing in the wreckage of what tried to break me, fighting to breathe.
Zach walked away when I needed him most—now he wants me back in the band like nothing’s changed.
Maybe this is our second chance . . . or maybe it’s just another heartbreak waiting to happen.
Then there’s Logan—the one who stayed. The one whose arms feel like the only place I’m not falling apart.
And the more I lean on him, the harder I fall.
But when my world turns upside down, I’m forced to make an impossible choice:
The boy who loved me first . . .
Or the boy who wants to love me last.
Zach
I can’t forget that she chose him.
But I never stopped loving her. And now that our dream is finally within reach, I need her back—
Behind the drums. In my life. In my arms.
I know I screwed up.
And when everything falls apart around her, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that this time . . .
I won’t walk away.
Logan
I told her I loved her—and then she lived through hell.
She says she’s okay, but I see the pain she hides.
So, I stay. Patient. Constant. Hoping she’ll realize I’m the one.
And when the fire finally ignites between us, I know I’d risk it all—my future, my family, my heart—if it means I get to keep her.
But sometimes loving someone means knowing when to let them go.
Even if it destroys you.
Three hearts. One love. Will they survive what comes next—or will it destroy them?
Fearless Hearts is a spicy, gut-wrenching love triangle packed with longing, heartbreak, and impossible choices. Told in multiple POVs, it’s the emotional, high-stakes conclusion to the Rising Stars Duet and should be read after Reckless Souls.
Why readers are obsessed
- Because they get the emotional punch, brutal heartbreak, and all-or-nothing love that made One Tree Hill, The O.C., and Everwood unforgettable.
- Because readers get the emotional depth and gut-wrenching honesty fans crave in Jay McLean, Abbi Glines, and Meagan Brandy—where every choice has consequences, pain must come before healing, and love always finds a way.
- Because the conclusion brings the heat, the heartbreak, and the soul-deep reckoning that comes from knowing who you are—and who you choose to love.
What readers are saying
Readers praise Fearless Hearts for getting swept away by the love, angst, and drama, and its deeply satisfying conclusion to the love triangle that began in Reckless Souls.
One five star review says: “This book has all the feels. A young romance with plenty of spice and suspense.”
Genres
coming-of-age, contemporary romance, first love, high school romance, love triangle, new adult, new adult & college, rock star romance, romance, romantic suspense, small town, sports romance
Tropes and themes
- best friends to lovers
- soulmates
- swim team captain
- boy obsessed
- that painting scene
- drummer girl
- rock stars on tour
- teen drama
- surprise pregnancy
- found family
- hard fought HEA
Triggers
A content warning is available due to mature themes and potential triggers.
Book details
- ASIN: B0DR9BWKD6
- ISBN-13: 978-0648603528
- Publisher: Blue Bower Publishing
- Publication date: 22 December 2024
- Print length: 364 pages
Other books in the series
- Reckless Souls – Book 1
Start reading Fearless Hearts now
Chapter one
Lee
A blaze of reds, oranges, and yellows flashes past Logan’s truck as we drive through a forest that a month ago was a lush deep green. I find comfort in the warmth of the leaves and in the majesty of the towering mountains, but I miss the allure of the ocean, of watching the waves roll in and roll out, taking the weight of the world with them.
It’s a cleansing I crave after the grueling ten hours I’ve undergone since Logan found me dumped on his driveway. The twenty-five stitches in my lower back hold me together, but I’m scaling a precipice and hanging on by my bloody fingernails. My imagination could have conjured the man who assaulted me when I’m nestled in the passenger seat beside Logan, and a night without sleep makes it more surreal.
I rest my temple against the cool glass of the window and close my eyes, seeking peace of mind that the doctor has set me on a path toward recovery, and the police will track down whoever tormented me, and I can forget someone had me at their mercy, if only for a few hours.
But I won’t. Not until I have my revenge.
The officer who took my statement at the hospital said it was a targeted attack, and I should remain vigilant. That in cases like mine the assailant is likely to escalate his behavior, and the next time his intention could be to rape or kill. The horror on Logan’s face upon hearing I could still be in danger was the same as when we found Mom near to death in a pool of her own blood.
I glance at him in the driver’s seat, seeking reassurance that he’s recovered, and I recall a boy who was like sunshine on a rainy day when we first met. He breaks the storm clouds circling over me, and I’ll never forgive myself if I’m the reason they gather over him.
“How are you doing?” he asks, his rich, smooth tone a balm to the odd state of discontentment engulfing me. He has to be exhausted, but with the morning sun glinting off the gold in his hair, he’s magnificent.
“I’m tired, but okay.” I swallow, wincing against the rawness of my throat from my screams.
“I’ll have you home soon, and we’ll get you cleaned up and tucked into bed.”
I’m a muddy blood-streaked mess from the assault and grimy from my visit to the emergency room. A hot shower and a year of sleep would feel incredible. A wistful sigh escapes, anticipating my body sinking into my mattress. Logan’s eyes dart to me and then back to the road, but I can’t tear my gaze away from his stoic profile. It was only yesterday he admitted his love and was adamant I’m in love with him too. I told him I wasn’t, but was I wrong? Nothing is easier than being with him, and throughout my ordeal, he was who I wished for. Because Logan Michaels loving me is a joy—and is there anything greater than that?
His truck stopping in the driveway jolts me out of my reverie. As we trudge to the porch, I direct him to the hiding spot of the spare key, and at the front door, he sets aside a package before we can enter the house. Then it’s up the stairs we go, and he brings me to the bathroom.
“Can you wash yourself?” His expression seems to be doubting my ability, and his hands shoot out, grabbing my biceps when I sway. “Whoops. Let me help you.” He crouches and slides off the slippers and socks the nurse gave me. He lifts my foot, and I clutch his broad shoulders to stop from toppling over as he tugs off the donated sweatpants and underwear.
There’s an absurdity to how often he undresses me, and I chuckle. “This is familiar.”
His lips flatten into a line of displeasure. “How is this amusing to you?”
“Oh, come on, think of the irony. I act like such a hard-ass, but you’re always here to witness me at my weakest.”
“That’s not how I see you.” His eyes hold mine as he stands and grasps my shoulders. “I’m in awe of your strength.”
I can’t make sense of his words in my hazy drug-addled brain. “In what way?”
“You rise to the occasion, Summer Lee. You may suffer later for it, but you don’t let it stop you.”
It bolsters my spirits to be reminded that at my lowest, I persevere. I burrow my fingers into his short velvety hair; it’s so soft, like cocooning myself in a cozy blanket. “I love your hair.” I sigh. “So much.”
His teeth dazzle when he reveals them, and I stare in wonderment at his golden aura as he raises his hoodie and the care package shirt I’m wearing, then gets me to bend forward so he can pull them over my head without me lifting my arms. I’m naked, but his eyes hold mine. I’m not surprised. He’d be appalled if he thought he was making me uncomfortable. He swaddles me in a fluffy towel and sits me on the edge of the tub before flicking on the faucet. I watch as he rifles under the sink and comes out from the depths of the cupboard holding a small bottle of antiseptic gel. He squirts half of it onto a cloth and rubs at the word ‘slut’ inked above my breasts.
I’d forgotten my abductor wrote on me until Logan mentioned it during his statement. They took photos, and it was worse than recounting the attack. Now proof of my frailty exists. From today until forever, someone can wave the evidence in my face and say, “Here, this is what you let him do to you.”
I slip into the half inch of warm water and hug my knees, shaking from a jumble of emotions I can’t put into words, and I don’t want to try. Logan starts a methodical rub down of cleaning out the gravel embedded in my skin, and when he’s finished, he towels me dry and dresses me in clean sweats and a band tee. He follows me as I shuffle to my bedroom, and I wait while he pulls back my bedcovers. I crawl between the sheets, my head hitting the pillow, and I welcome the darkness as it descends.
* * *
He tightens his grip, his fingers digging into my windpipe, and I struggle for air and claw and scratch—
I bolt upright, my heart pounding, and stare into the dark. Something lies on the floor between me and my door, and as my room comes into focus, it dawns on me it’s Logan.
“Logan.” I shudder as goose bumps spring up, and I flap my soaked shirt away from my sweaty back. “Logan,” I say his name louder to wake him and to have his arms engulf me. “Logan!”
He sits upright, his eyelids popping open. “What’s wrong?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Was it a nightmare?”
I nod, biting my trembling lower lip. The nightmares will pass, I just have to tough them out. It’s how my parents shaped me. Only the strong survive.
Logan hoists himself onto the bed, and reaching for the nightstand, he switches on the lamp. He’s in boxer briefs and a T-shirt, and it’s sinking in he stayed.
I peer at his make-shift bed beside mine. “Where did you find the mattress?”
“Your sofa is a pullout. I took it from there.”
I feign interest. Anything to distract from the phantom hands choking me. “I hope it’s comfortable?”
“It’s all right.” His eyes probe mine, and I see how he suffers in his helplessness, and how he would give his soul for tonight not to have happened. That it did only hurts him more.
My dry lips sting as I drag my tongue between them. “Thank you for being here.”
His pained smile doesn’t erase the gloom shadowing his features as his hands push my damp hair back from my face. “I’m here for as long as you need.”
“You always are,” I murmur, noticing his painting of the starry sky hanging near my desk. It’s my favorite of his, and it wasn’t there when I woke yesterday. I point at it, and he peers over his shoulder. “When did you hang the picture?”
“After you fell asleep. I left it at your door last night.”
He was giving it to me even though I rejected him, and then he saved me and didn’t leave. It says so much about who he is. About us. He doesn’t give up on me, and I love him because of it.
“Can I get you anything?” He steps into his jeans, his toes catching on one of the ragged holes that exposes the torn-up skin on his knees once he’s wearing them.
“No, thanks.” Fatigue weighs on me, and I sink into my pillow, flinching when my flesh catches fire at the tug on my stitches. I hate that I’m helpless, but Logan doesn’t belittle me or build me up like everyone else in my life. He’s there when I fall and cushions my landing. I’ve let no one in the way I have him, not even Zach.
God. Zach.
I rub at my heart. He wants nothing to do with me, and he has every reason. I would have wanted to tell him to fuck off too if he was interested in another girl. But I don’t think I would. All I know is I lost a piece of myself when he walked away, and I won’t ever be the same.
“It’s not time for your pain meds,” Logan says, tucking my comforter around me. “I’ll check if you can have ibuprofen.”
I yawn, fighting against my eyelids urging me to sleep. “How can I feel like I’ve slept for a week, and I’m still so tired?”
He grabs his phone off his blankets, and the screen lights up. “It’s almost dinnertime. Are you hungry?”
“I want the drugs.”
He pulls his sweatshirt over his head with a grin. “I’ll be back.”
Watching his athletic frame stride for the door, gratitude and adoration swell inside me. “Logan.”
He turns, his eyebrows lifting with his question. “Yeah?”
“Thank you for the painting, and for everything you do for me, and . . .” I shrug. The regret of not reassuring him how special he is when he confessed he loved me sits heavy on my chest. “I love you too.”
His mouth curls up ever so slightly. “I think the drugs are doing their job.”
As fast as my emotions swept through me, they’re gone. Except my heart aches like I’m living a tragedy, so maybe I am high. “I had to say something,” I mumble, “so you know you’re important to me.”