The Only Song (Only You)

1. Sadie

Chapter 1

Sadie

I ’m late. I’m always fucking late. But this time might cost me my future.

Whoever thought protecting a centuries old instrument in a case that can easily be mistaken for a gun was an idiot. Or maybe it was just TSA being Totally Stupid Assholes for stopping me to inspect said case at San Francisco International Airport.

“It’s a violin . Not a gun,” I reiterated endlessly to the scowling security. Still, they held me back and whenever I checked my phone for the time, my heart rate picked up a notch.

God, this violin case is the bane of my existence.

Forty-eight minutes later, I made it to my old stomping grounds. It’s been six years since I was last here. Six years since I gave up on my dream. Six years since I last saw him .

I shake my head, frustrated, because he is the last person I want on my mind when I’m about to throw myself into an audition.

Fucking auditions. I hate them. Because you know you’re being judged. And based on how I was judged six years ago, I’m not sure I’ll make the cut.

I finally see the gold block letters of Montgomery Music Hall and pivot towards it as my best friend’s voice fills my mind.

“This could be your chance. Don’t you want another shot at being Concertmaster of an orchestra?” Sloane asked.

Concertmaster. My long coveted dream. The lead chair of an orchestra. Second to the conductor.

You get the solos, the spotlight, the status.

Instantly, my mind jumps to who currently holds this chair, and I immediately shut it down. But being here climbing up the same steps to the same doors of the same music building where we first competed doesn’t help.

There’s no forgetting Jaxon Tanner where our college is concerned.

There’s no forgetting Jaxon Tanner, period.

My phone vibrates with a message. Sloane’s name pops up followed by “GOOD LUCK!!!!”

I type quickly as I push through the doors.

Sadie

What if I get rejected?

Will you buy me a plane ticket back to you in LA so I won’t cry alone?

Sloane

You’re playing the world’s tiniest violin with your ‘woe is me’ act, Sadie

Stop being so negative

You got this

I’ve never understood her blind confidence in me. I’ve always struggled to believe in myself. Growing up with overly critical parents would do that, especially ones who compared me to Jaxon. I stood no chance.

But I’m here and there’s no turning back now. I made a promise. To my violin students. To Sloane. To myself. A promise to try . And I keep my promises.

The Troubadour Orchestra is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’d be nuts to turn it down. It’s a charity orchestra built from the best musicians across the nation to do a three-stop tour advocating for classical music in schools.

Classical music meets classic pop. A solid tagline considering the majority of the lessons I teach is me convincing my violin students that classical music is, in fact, not dead. While I love being a violin teacher, deep down I know I’m selling myself short. I was slated to be a top performer, a world-renowned soloist. But that was long lost years ago. In these very halls. By a very specific person .

Now, I’m a music teacher. Not a performer.

I teach violin. Not perform it.

That’s who I used to be. Not who I am anymore.

The words are half-truths, but I’m too damaged by the past to believe anything else. Too heartbroken from years of rejections. Too envious of him.

My stomach churns as the click of my heels in the atrium stirs old memories.

A bright recital hall. A polite applause. The echo of my final note.

It was magnificent until it wasn’t.

The next performance garnered more than a polite applause. It was a roar . The way they clapped for him was never how it was for me. And to make things worse, the night didn’t end there. Our recitals were just the icing on the cake. The cherry on top? Jaxon Tanner leaving me on a porch dejected and cold that same night.

It was my first taste of rejection. Six years later, it still tastes just as bitter.

My eyes glance off the familiar black-framed posters that line the white walls. This place was my home for four years. I know this building like the back of my own hand. I don’t need the sign pointing to the recital hall to know where it’s at.

I approach the check-in with a tight smile. From behind me, a familiar voice travels down the halls, making a shiver roll up my spine. My hand trembles too, but that has to be from the nerves—not because it’s him . Still, I debate whether I should turn around. If I can recognize him this easily, I’m sure he’d recognize me. Would he be as nervous as I am? But as I’m convincing myself to see if it’s who I think it is, my phone vibrates again.

4:54 p.m. Shit. I have less than ten minutes before auditions close.

In swift movements, I unpack my violin outside the recital hall, quickly tune my strings and begin to pace in the atrium for my turn.

It’ll be over before I know it and while I might not be good enough, I can at least say I tried.

Not the greatest last words before auditioning, but I don’t have time to make improvements.

“Sadie? You can go in now.” The girl from the check-in desk says. I nod stiffly and when my palm meets the silver handlebar, the cold metal is a stark contrast to my hot skin. As I push the door open, a whoosh of air flits through my red hair. It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the dark yellow glow of the room. I glance nervously down the long aisle, my breath catching in my lungs. Rows of seats are lined before the amber lit stage, empty except for a grand piano and a music stand. The judges sit in the front row, flicking through pages, notes presumably from the audition prior. Or for me.

Hand still on the doorknob, I glance back over my shoulder, questioning if I should turn away. But I freeze instead. Because behind me, a tall figure is making his way to the door. To me.

Jet black hair. Dark chocolate eyes. Black fitted suit.

There’s only one person it could be.

My stomach sinks. My heart shoots up to my throat.

The voice I recognized was right.

And I’ve made a grave mistake turning up here.