The Only Song (Only You)

20. Sadie

Chapter 20

Sadie

I told them not to come. They try to be supportive, but their version of support may as well feel like being laid out on train tracks as they bulldoze over me with all the reasons I disappointed them. Ugh . I wish they’d at least told me before the concert so I’d been more prepared and not panicked. I half-packed my violin, leaving it backstage to race through the narrow halls, scrambling out into the lobby to come headfirst into their onslaught. Where others are being showered with praises and flowers, I don’t receive a single compliment, only criticism and comments. It’s no different from when I was in college. It’s words they’ve told me all my life.

You need to try harder, honey. You’re not trying hard enough.

Never enough. I’m never enough for them.

And then Jaxon comes into the mix.

So handsome. So honest. So unaware of how even his kind words could be twisted into daggers straight through my chest.

It hurts how easily he slips back into my life. My parents dote on him like the son they never had or the child prodigy they never got from me, and it rekindles my lurid jealousy from years of always falling second to him.

I last about a minute before I can’t stand it any longer. Once I feel the tears break, I turn on my heel, not bothering to say a fond goodbye to my parents. And they don’t bother to say anything to stop me as I beeline straight for the exit. I’ve apologized to them to appease their disappointment, try to lessen the blow, but it means nothing. I can only control what I can, which right now is how swiftly I can get through this crowd.

I’m before the double doors that lead to the backstage entrance and use all my frustration to shove them open. I groan after I swipe at my teary eyes, and when I glance at the back of my hand, it’s black, smeared with so much mascara I must look like a trash panda at this point. I’m surprised Jaxon didn’t recoil at the sight of me. It doesn’t surprise me that my parents were the ones to cause my tears and show no sympathy for them. I should be used to it, but the hurt never fails to sting. The back of my eyes prick as more tears surface, but I’m jolted by a door slamming behind me, followed by a quick succession of footsteps .

“Sass!”

I knew he’d follow me, but it only makes me walk faster. Beneath the concert stage is a labyrinth of turns and with my blurred vision, I make each one in a foggy haze until I finally reach the strings backstage room.

The room is empty except for three violin cases. A silver one I don’t recognize, beside an expensive-looking one with a sleek, shiny carbon fiber coating, contoured to the outline of a violin. The last one looks like a beaten up box, in faded black, ripped at the corners, marked by a red ribbon I used to wear in high school.

It didn’t occur to me that Jaxon would leave his trillion-dollar, or whatever ludicrous number his violin is, by itself in a backstage room, but I guess I’m not the only risk taker here.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him tuck into the room. I’m poised above my violin, my case still open, a dejected feeling rooting me in unwanted dismay.

Jaxon pivots to lean in the doorway, all six-feet-something of fitted black attire and lean muscle. Staring at me.

“I didn’t think they would do that,” he says softly, sadness in his tone.

“Do what?” I slam my violin case closed a little too harshly, wincing that I may have hurt the precious wood inside. I can’t seem to get my parent’s voices out of my head.

What a waste of money for you to just be a music teacher. There’s no success in that, love.

Love. It’s ironic that it’s our last name when I feel really little love from all the judgment they give me.

“Turn what I said about you into some type of… attack.”

My jaw muscles tense, teeth clenching in heartache over how unsurprised I am, because it was typical, but Jaxon wouldn’t know that.

“They’ve been like that all my life.” My voice comes out strained.

Jaxon frowns. “You don’t deserve to deal with that.”

“And yet, it’s the cards I’ve been dealt,” I sniff. Try harder . That’s their words of advice to me today. Try. Harder. “Look, I don’t need your pity, Tanner. You know what I need? I need to practice. You said you’d teach me, so come on. Let’s practice.”

Jaxon eyes me softly. “It’s not a rehearsal.”

“I don’t care. You heard my parents. I’m not good enough to be you.”

“Sass.”

“I can’t ever be as good as you.”

“Stop.”

“I can’t make them happy.” I sound like a broken record, stuck on a record scratch of a tune that sings I’m a failure .

It replays in my mind over and over. I’m sucked into my thoughts that I don’t realize Jaxon has closed the distance between us until he snatches my wrists to pull me to my senses.

I also don’t realize that I’ve started crying. Again.

Why am I always crying when I’m with him?

“That’s enough,” he says firmly, but his tone is low and gentle, like a caress that sends a shiver down my spine. My heart squeezes as he lowers his hand on my wrist to wrap with mine, grounding me in place. “We’re not practicing tonight.”

He wipes a fallen tear on my cheek with the pad of his thumb and the words start spilling from my mouth.

“I thought I was doing well. I thought—” I gulp air. “I thought that even performing after all this time would’ve made them happy but—but it doesn’t. Whatever I do. It doesn’t make them happy. They chip away and find something I didn’t do right. ‘Why didn’t you get a solo, Sadie?’ ‘Why aren’t you in the first chair, Sadie?’”

Jaxon pulls me to his chest and I’m thankful he wore a black button up this time, so I don’t stain it with more smeared make-up. It’s like a repeat of the night he saved me from Smith and I find myself clinging to the material at the small of his back. His whispers are muffled as I sob softly into his chest, his hand drawing soothing circles between my shoulder blades.

Once I’ve calmed down enough, he leans back to look into my eyes and I’m sucked into the well of his. “I’m going to say it again because you need to hear it. No one should talk to you like that. No one should make you feel that you didn’t earn your chair or that you aren’t trying hard enough. If anything, their disappointment is because they know deep down they’ll never be as talented as you are. You’re worthy of shining, Sadie. So, don’t lessen your light because they keep trying to dim yours.”

My breath hitches. Another tear escapes, but Jaxon doesn’t miss a beat and catches it, tilting my face upward to him.

“I meant everything I told them. If you’re going to listen to one thing, listen to my words, not theirs.”

My heart aches but differently this time because in this moment it’s wrapped tight in Jaxon’s embrace, smoothed over by his soothing words, and when he leans his forehead against mine, it stops altogether.

Our noses almost touch, lips a breath apart and I can smell him everywhere. But he stuns me more by saying, “I have something for you.”

“What?” I croak, pulling back to peer up at him through wet lashes. My body protests when he drops his arms from around me and his scent of cedar wood and mint fades. Then my eyes catch on what he’s holding and I’m shaking my head. “No.”

He grins, lopsided. In his hands is the violin case I spotted earlier, coated in a sleek, shiny silver.

“It’s fiberglass.” He steps toward me.

“No.”

“Temperature-resistant.”

“I can’t. ”

“And more durable than what you have.” He pushes past me to place the case on the table beside my old, tattered one. He flicks open the locks and pulls the lid open, revealing a plush burgundy velvet interior.

My jaw drops. “I can’t. I don’t have the money to buy that from you.”

He snorts. “I’m not asking you to buy it, Sass. I’m giving it to you.”

“What? Why?” I can’t resist touching it. Excitement sparks at my fingertips as it runs along the soft, padded interior. It’s so beautiful. And expensive. And not mine.

“You played phenomenally this weekend. Consider it a reward. Besides, I think I recall someone saying I had too many.”

“I never said that,” I retort, but my eyes are glued to the case still.

“No, but you did roll your eyes when I said I have five.”

“How did you get this?” I ask breathlessly, finally tearing my eyes to look at him then. “Did you ship this from New York?”

“From LA, actually.”

My brows knit, confused. “But we’re going to LA next?”

“And you needed to have it for your next flight.”

My mouth opens, but I’m too shocked to form words. I don’t understand why he’s doing all this. Why he’d say nice things before my parents, why he comforts me the way he does, why he’d ship his spare violin case to gift to me so I’d have it to travel.

I’m overwhelmed. My chest aches. My eyes burn. And all I can think of is how close his lips are and what it would be like to taste them.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I finally whisper.

He smiles softly. “I have plenty. This is yours. And before you make a joke about it being silver instead of gold, let me say this: gold doesn’t mean anything. A silver object can still shine just as bright. It doesn’t mean you’re second. It doesn’t mean that you’re not good enough. It just means you’re built differently. You still shine, and you deserve to shine.”

My stomach flutters. I’m too speechless to respond, so I just nod my head lightly. But when I look up at him, he’s even closer than before. Dark chocolate eyes, warm and bright, tender for me. My heart kicks up when he reaches to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, soft fingertips trailing along the curve of my cheek.

When he speaks, his voice is all gravel. “What’s on that mind of yours, Sass?”

“That I could kiss you right now,” I blurt.

Jaxon pauses, eyes darting to my lips. Seconds stretching into minutes as I wait to see if he just might. But instead, his hand drops as he chuckles softly, and I try to ignore the ache in me that wishes he hadn’t stepped back.

He leans in the doorway, eyes still warm. “Pack your violin up in your new case. I want to show you something.”

Our footsteps echo in the tight labyrinth of tunnels. It’s clear Jaxon’s performed here before with the confidence he has in taking every turn. My new case is strapped to my back and I love how light it feels. The difference is clear as I carry my old, now empty, violin case. Jaxon finally slows and I recognize the door before us. A sign on the door reads STAGE ENTRANCE, and he looks over his shoulder at me with a grin that makes my heart skip.

“Are we allowed to be here?” I whisper loudly.

“Scared, Sass?” he replies in a normal tone.

“Of you? A little. Of tripping and falling? Most definitely.”

“I won’t let you fall.” His voice husks close to my ear and a shiver passes through me. It’s quickly replaced by heat as I feel his hand slip into mine. “I’ve got you.”

These little moments of touch shouldn’t mean anything and yet they do because Jaxon’s hand has always been there for me when I needed it most. Needed someone the most.

We’re sidestage and it’s pitch black. Jaxon carefully leads us over gaffed wires I can’t see. There’s nobody here, no lights on but the faint glow from the audience seating where aisles are dimly lit. When we get to the top landing, Jaxon lets go of my hand to swing his violin case off his back and I do the same. We leave our cases in view, but he stretches his hand out to me again, a crooked smile on his face and dark eyes glimmering.

“First lesson in performing solo,” he says. My hand slips back into his like a puzzle piece finding its pair and he leads me to centerstage. “The stage is yours. Dance with me.”

I laugh, surprised. “There’s no music. What are we dancing to?”

He twirls me and I thank the two years I was enchanted with broadway and learned to dance so I don’t instantly trip. He pulls me flush to his chest, one hand clasped in mine, the other just below my shoulder blade. Heat instantly flares where his fingertips touch the soft material of my shirt as if singing the material right off. If the lights were on, I might be as red as the audience seats, but thankfully, it’s not.

Warmth continues to unfurl throughout my body but I rest my other hand atop his shoulder, the curve of his muscle filling my palm, those two puzzle pieces clicking together again, then a lightning bolt when his body meets mine, cedar wood and mint wrapping all over me.

Jaxon looks down at me through his thick black frames. His eyes glimmer even in the dim light as he starts to hum a tune I vaguely recognize. A tune from long ago, in a stairwell, that I once played. My heart beats are erratic, my breath light and airy as we sway in sloppy, light-hearted steps over the stage.

Like magic, I forget that minutes before I was crying about feeling like a failure.

“The stage is yours, Sass.” His voice echoes around us and in my mind. He spins me out. “You own it.” I spin back in. “The orchestra and conductor follow your cues. You get to shine.”

I’m laughing now, real laughter. The giddy kind, like when you first fly a kite, first taste a lick of ice cream, first achieve something that feels wholly and completely free .

We slow and my hand curves over the strong muscle of his back while his hand drifts lower down my spine, the heat of our bodies like an electric frisson bouncing all over our skin.

“Have you always loved performing?” I ask, his fingers skate up my spine and back down, lower than it started. I try not to arch at the touch.

“Always. Since I was a kid. But lately, it’s felt different.” He twirls me once. Twice. A third time and I’m giggling again, stumbling slightly from dizziness. He catches me and pulls me to his chest. Somehow it seems our chins are closer, our noses, our lips.

“I love when you laugh,” he murmurs. I peer up at him, and there’s no denying the smile in his dark eyes. They glimmer even brighter, his touch even hotter, his hand on my back even lower.

I skip his comment. The line in my mind of our strictly professional rule fuzzing at the thought, so I eye a black button on his shirt instead. My finger traces over it as I mull over his words.

Lately, it’s felt different .

I pause, hand on his chest, to ask, “What feels different now? Than before?”

His hands circle my waist to rest on my hip and then he spins me around so my back is flush to his chest. His hands find mine and we sway like that, his chin on my shoulder, only my hair separating it from touching my cheek. Our hands joined at the center of my belly, looking out into the open, empty auditorium.

He turns his head slightly and whispers in my ear, “Solos are lonely. Lately, I haven’t felt so alone.”

“You were lonely?” My whisper doesn’t hide my shock, even as quiet and small as we are on the open stage. He’s the picture of success in a classical music career and he feels… lonely? It doesn’t add up to me, but what would I know?

He spins me back around, looping my hands behind his neck and placing his at my waist. A mixture of emotions fly across his face. I can’t pinpoint which one to ask about before he whispers, “Not anymore.”

His forehead dips to rest against mine, and we sway. Jaxon hums that nostalgic tune again to fill the silence. My first thought is he remembers the song I played . My second thought is how?

The longer we dance, the more my core lights up, a fire of need and want bursting through my veins. When I look into his eyes, they’re molten and I’m the one melting in their warmth.

The “strictly professional” line doesn’t just fuzz, it full on blurs now.

And I’m not sure I care.

“What changed?” I murmur, so softly I’m not sure if he hears it or even remembers where we’d left off in the conversation. Then his nose tips to brush against mine and my eyes flutter close.

“You,” he breathes.

All around us becomes still.

Time. Space. Light. Heat.

We’re frozen in this moment on this stage we’ve made ours.

I stop swaying, my arms still looped over his neck, his at my waist, foreheads pressed together.

An airy laugh escapes my lips, “I changed you?”

“In a way,” he rasps and I sense his grin, even if I might not see it. I can hear it in his voice.

“How?”

“Because with you, I don’t crave the spotlight so much anymore.”

My heart squeezes. Jaxon’s fingers grip tighter at my waist and I can feel his pulse. When I open my mouth to speak, my voice comes out airy. “What do you crave now?”

His voice is barely a whisper. “To kiss you.”

My breath catches and I pull back to look up at him, surprised. Jaxon’s eyes are inky dark, heat and want well in their depths.

We probably shouldn’t.

Yet, I lick my bottom lip and drag my eyes down to his. “Then, kiss me.”

Jaxon doesn’t hesitate.

The first brush of his lips is soft, a barely there touch that shoots off a lightning spark in me. A need for more.

It starts slow and gentle like the way we swayed, but then his hand moves from my waist to cup my jaw and tilts my face up to kiss deeper, his tongue tracing over my bottom lip and I melt .

Everything changes.

Heat coils in my stomach, every touch of his lips fanning the flame. My arms around his neck pull him closer, but it’s not me needing more now, it’s him. His hand at my waist finds the small of my back and pulls me into his hip roughly. Fingers lace into my hair and scrunches, pulling gently as he coaxes my mouth open with his so he can slip his tongue through to dance with mine. My body sighs into his touch as he steals a moan from my breath. And our kiss turns rough.

Hot breaths. Soft nips. Tongues tangling.

When I catch his bottom lip with my teeth and pinch softly, I smile at the low groan that lifts from the back of his throat. But then the heat in my stomach spreads to between my thighs, and my relief turns feverish, my spine arching into him.

He tastes so good, like something fresh and minty I can’t get enough of.

A little sweet, but cool, like the kiss of night air on a summer evening.

Our kiss is hungry, needy, like teenagers with no self-control, making out in public, driven by a little sense of something forbidden and the pleasure of a first time.

Jaxon’s hand on my waist slowly starts to drag down until he’s cupping my ass. My breath catches when I feel him hard between us and I suddenly wish we weren’t in the middle of a stage. That I could feel the weight of his chest on mine, pressing me into a wall, a floor, a bed, anything. My gasps grow ragged as he hitches my leg up around his waist and I feel his hard length pressing against my pussy in a way that sends even dirtier thoughts scurrying through my mind.

I want more. His hands. His lips. His cock. More.

My fingers dig into his back and he groans. When his lips find my neck, a desperate whimper escapes my lips. It’s a soft whisper of how much I want this. How much I want him .

Then a door bursts open. Footsteps. Jangling of keys.

Jaxon and I spring apart.

A moment’s hesitation, a shared look between us, clearly assessing how ragged we both look, the line we both crossed, and then we’re jolted further back into reality by the aisle lights shutting off.

We’re in total pitch-black now and about to get locked in.

We scramble off the stage, grab our violin cases, and rush down the stairs. We wind through the halls, and don’t stop running until we’re out in the open air, breathless.

As breathless as when we were on stage, kissing in the dark, hoping it would never end.