The Only Song (Only You)

15. Sadie

Chapter 15

Sadie

“ A re you sure about this?” Jaxon’s voice floats from the foot of the bed. He’s standing in the doorway hesitantly. And if I’m being honest, no, I’m not sure. But the guilt of him sleeping on the floor with a fucked up shoulder had me reeling.

“If it makes you feel better, I can take the couch and you take the bed,” I offer, sitting up so a pool of sheets falls to my lap.

“No.” Jaxon doesn’t even hesitate.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s cold out there, the cushions will fuck your shoulder up and you’re wearing…” he trails off.

My cheeks flush and I’m thankful it’s hidden in the dim lighting. The sun has tucked away below the skyline, replaced by a midnight sky. Bright city lights are all that illuminate the room in a setting that feels too intimate, too private.

And my pajamas. I’d packed this silk set but was too afraid to wear it sharing rooms with Jaxon. But my more modest set of pajamas is in my dirty pile of laundry and if I go to change, it would be obvious. Not to mention it was in the dirty pile.

Fuck it. He’s already seen me and, based on the way he’s looking at me, I can’t say he hates it. At least, I have that going for me.

“Tanner. Get in the bed,” I say, scooting over to make space for him. I glance at the curtain. I prefer them closed, but then I don’t want to get up in front of Jaxon with these pajamas, so I guess the morning sun will be our alarm tomorrow morning. Jaxon still hasn’t moved, and I can’t bring myself to look at him as I pull the sheets up to my chin.

“I don’t bite, Tanner,” I sigh, staring up at the air vent to distract my thoughts.

“I know. You kick,” he shoots back, but I hear his feet pad around the edge of the bed anyway, then it slumps with his weight. Instantly, it feels a hundred degrees warmer now that he’s here.

Once he lays back, he sighs with relief. I can’t imagine how his shoulder must feel, but I hope resting in the bed will help. Even if I won’t rest at all.

He turns his face to me questioningly, staring at me unnervingly.

“What?” My voice comes out breathy.

“I’m wondering if you kick as much in your sleep as you do in our stand. ”

I repress the urge to kick him then. He’s injured enough already, so I simply shake my head, grinning into the dark.

“Do you snore?” he asks.

I scoff. “What type of question is that to a lady?”

“You’re not a lady, you’re a lark.”

“What?”

“Your audition piece. The Lark Ascending ? It reminds me of you.”

My breath leaves my lungs as I have no idea how to respond to that. To him thinking of me. Remembering my audition piece. Associating me with a?—

“You think I’m a bird?” I ask, turning to face him now, our feet almost brushing under the sheets.

He laughs and it rolls down my spine so soothingly I have to bite my lip to keep from leaning in, ignoring the want between my thighs, the thoughts of his hands on my skin. Or my hands on his.

“No, I mean, bright, carefree. You’re…” he trails off, seemingly embarrassed now, but he’s opened up a can of worms and I’m on the edge listening to his every word. “You’re not so serious like I am.”

I don’t know whether to take offense at that or consider it a compliment.

“What’s so bad about being serious?” I ask.

“Turning people away,” he answers and I feel it, that innate sense I had from earlier, the loneliness seeping off his skin. Something in me could see the boy that was lost, who only learned to take care of himself by himself and expected nothing from others.

My instincts kick in. I feel myself inch closer, unable to deny the urge, like when I was nursing his injured shoulder and wrist. To pour love and care on him the way Sloane would to me when I would cry after performances, after being reamed by my parents for not being good enough, not winning, not beating Jaxon.

He calls me a lark, but I’m not sure I see it. I still pinch myself to this day that I’m here in an orchestra, traveling, even if it’s only temporary.

“Who else knows?” I ask, not needing to clarify. I can still see the plea in his dark chocolate eyes, the way they strained with pain. It was a secret he didn’t want me to even know.

“My best friend and my physical therapist.” His voice softens.

“What about family?”

“Mason, the physical therapist, is my cousin. Xander… well, he may as well be my brother.”

“He’s not your brother?” I lean in closer, the edge of our arms brush over the soft sheets.

“No,” he smiles now. “He’s just my fraternity Big Brother.”

I hum softly. “My best friend is my sorority Big Sister.”

His arm presses into mine, our wrists now almost touching.

“What about your parents? Any siblings?”

He shakes his head, but he doesn’t pull his arm away. “I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Not even them? I always got the impression you were close. I’d see your parents at every one of our college performances.”

His mouth twitches, eyes staring up at the ceiling as he sighs heavily.

“Music is all I know. Violin. Performing. I’ve never been anything else. When I waltz into rehearsal, I feel the weight of upholding my reputation. It’s not a bad thing, but growing up with everyone’s eyes on me like they expect so much, I just don’t want to disappoint.”

That feeling I know. I may not have the fame Jaxon has, but that pressure? I know it well from my parents.

I feel the need to tell him that so he knows he isn’t alone. And it’s evident the shift in our conversation has gone from our light-hearted banter to sharing secrets in the dark. I may as well share one.

“I know how that feels,” I whisper, my throat suddenly dry.

He turns to look at me, warm eyes boring into my cheek.

“I grew up being compared to everyone by my parents. Nothing ever felt good enough, or feels good enough, even today. My parents don’t take me as a music teacher seriously. They think it was just a waste of their money that I teach kids to perform but don’t perform myself.

“Back in college, it felt like their pastime was to compare me to you. I think that’s why I try so hard to beat you. Beneath it all, I just didn’t want to disappoint them.”

He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and from this angle I’m struck speechless by him. In the moonlight, his features are even more striking. The smooth plane of his tan cheek. His sharp nose to an even sharper jawline. I don’t need his t-shirt off to know that beneath it are ripped abs and toned muscles. His eyes look at me, molten even in the dark, and heat blooms between my thighs.

“Why haven’t you ever tried?” he asks softly.

“Tried what?”

“Being Concertmaster.” He states it like it’s easy. Like I could’ve just graduated and gotten the position like he did.

I snort. “I did try. I failed numerous times. After about twenty rejections our graduation year, I gave it up. Couldn’t even get to callbacks or interviews. Something felt off. Then my parents would keep telling me I wasn’t trying hard enough, so would you believe me if I told you I never thought I was ever good enough?”

“I wouldn’t believe you because you’ve always been more than good enough. Especially to me.” Our fingers brush and then Jaxon’s hand covers mine, drawing smooth circles over my skin.

My stomach dips. He’s rendered me speechless. Everything he admits only dizzies my thoughts more, blurring the line where we said we’d keep things professional.Everything feels personal at the moment. And what surprises me is that I don’t mind.

“Is that why you don’t want your parents to come see you?” he asks.

My mouth quirks upward. “Eavesdropping, were you?”

“You were quite loud on the plane. And sitting right next to me.” He smirks and my heart dips at the sight. I let my fingers dance with his.

“I don’t want them to take more from me than they already have. If I see them, I know they’ll find a way to ruin this for me and I won’t be able to get them out of my head.”

My voice breaks. I don’t admit this often, even to myself, the impact my parents have on my psyche. It affects my performances too much and maybe that’s why I shied away from auditioning after all the rejections I received upon graduation. It’s easier to be away from the problem than to deal with it.

Jaxon laces his fingers with mine and squeezes my hand gently, holding my gaze firmly.

“You deserve to be here, Sadie.”

My breath hitches at my name on his lips.

“I felt like someone didn’t really want me here in the beginning,” I tease. His jaw muscle ticks at being called out.

“That someone… was afraid of you.”

“Afraid of me? ”

He nods, leaning closer until I can feel his breath warm on my skin.

“Because if there was anyone who would give me a run for my money, it’s you.”

I freeze, but he only squeezes my hand more firmly. I never once believed it, even as neck and neck as we were in college, I never believed I was as good as him. Or better. With how many times I fell second, it was hard to believe I could ever be first.

But the way he looks at me now tells me something completely different. Eyes warm. Mouth sure. Certainty written all over his face.

The words slip from my mouth. I’ve been dying to know since we agreed on it. “Why do you want to train me for the solos?”

Jaxon surprises me by smiling, his hand gently releasing mine to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, then lacing it again with his. He pauses for a beat, and it feels like being suspended in the air before he drops. “Because it’s your time to shine.”

He squeezes my hand once again and we grow quiet. The sound of our breaths filling the open space, the warmth of his hand wrapped up in mine, and I fall asleep like that. Held, warm, and happy for the first time in six years.