The Only Song (Only You)

27. Sadie

Chapter 27

Sadie

A pparently, it’s someone’s birthday. And it was also someone’s grand idea to celebrate at a karaoke bar.

I’m not really sure what to expect. I thought it would be some loud, messy bar, the ones with the sticky floor and booths with ripped red leather, an ancient jukebox machine in the corner and wired microphones connected to a TV and speaker where we’d sing the lyrics to cringy songs.

What we walk into is far from it.

This establishment was built for this. About twenty of us walk down a hall brightly lit with white LED lights that glow against the black mirror tile. The host leads us towards their most extravagant party room and we all collectively gasp.

There’s no sticky floor or ripped leather seats. No jukebox machine or wired microphones. There’s no loud crowd to belt over either.

Instead, the black mirror tile stretches into a wide room. One stretch of the wall is taken up by a tufted black leather couch and long rectangular tables. Opposite the couch is a TV that rivals that of a movie theater and spans the entire wall. Speakers hang from the ceiling, each corner has fluctuating rainbow stage lights to color the room and in the center is a three-tiered glass chandelier like some modern day disco ball.

But the one thing that catches my eye is a small piano in the corner of the room with a mic hanging over it. This place was made for musicians and we’re all eating it up.

Excited chatter erupts from our group as we slide onto the leather couch. Jaxon keeps a small distance from me like a bodyguard on duty. An overenthusiastic blond from the cello section fawns over him, but he sips his drink distractedly without paying any attention to her.

A lick of jealousy still flares until I remember that I’m still mad at him.

The night dissolves into a who-can-outsing-who contest because we’re all musicians with a competitive flair. Renditions of Adele, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston to the Backstreet Boys, Ariana Grande and Bruno Mars. Someone suggested Taylor Swift but couldn’t pick an era, let alone a song to sing. All the while, I sip on my drink and applaud softly after every performance.

A petite, Asian girl, Anh I think, with long black hair and red lips that remind me of Sloane, slumps onto the couch next to me.

“Aren’t you going to sing?” she yells in my ear.

“No,” I yell back over an over-the-top performance of Versace on the Floor . It’s far more entertaining to watch. At least it was until the blonde cellist fawning over Jaxon earlier practically crawls into his lap. My brows reach my hairline until I school them back down because I shouldn’t care. He can have fun with whoever he wants. My dream wasn’t real. It’s been weeks since we kissed. We share a room, and that’s it.

The blonde flicks her hair over her shoulder to expose the side of her neck, her lips dangerously close to Jaxon’s. His hands are anchored on her hips and even though she blocks his face from my view, I can imagine it’s probably lust-filled and heart-eyed. Because the blonde is drop-dead gorgeous. Model-worthy. And it makes my hand clench so hard my drink shakes. My stomach twists traitorously, too.

This shouldn’t be happening. But I’m not about to go up there and pull her off his dick, either.

Fuck me.

“Sadie! Get up there and sing! We all have to sing at least once.” A tall muscly guy who looks like he should be in some Wrangler ad rather than an orchestra calls from behind Anh. I recognize his voice even without looking at him. Miles from the Cherry Creek Country Music Fest that Sloane and I had attended beams at me with his boyish grin and sparkling blue eyes. If I wasn’t too busy ogling over Jaxon and the hot blonde, I would’ve caught up with him more. I wonder how he and Sunny are doing?

“Well, Miles. You’ve graced us with at least three performances. Can’t I just be counted into one of yours?” I shout over the next song. We’ve moved into the Disney music era of karaoke and someone is belting Let It Go as if to rival Idina Menzel herself.

I feel the couch sink beside me and startle when I realize it’s Jaxon. He gives me a languid smirk that I return with a fierce stare.

Still mad. I telepathically glare his way.

I know. His eyes spark in response. A little guilt-ridden. Good. He should feel guilty. I still have no clue why he abandoned me in rehearsal.

“You gonna sing?” he asks, unfazed by the war in my eyes but still keeping his distance. Jaxon rolls his wrist in a way I’ve learned means his joints are aching. A flicker of worry passes through me but is crushed when the blonde cellist, pink cocktail in hand, slides herself up by Jaxon’s side. For fuck’s sake. She leans into him so hard his shoulder presses into mine and I want to fling myself off the couch.

I don’t. But I die a little on the inside.

My blood boils and it feels like my chest has cracked open at the sight of him beside whoever this other girl is. Catherine, I think?

Jaxon doesn’t look at her, but he doesn’t push her away, either. In fact, Jaxon’s looking at me with an expression I can’t read. The girl tracks Jaxon’s gaze on me and her face splits into a too-wide, too-friendly grin.

“Hi! I’m Kat! Short for Ekaterina!” God, even her voice is sexy. It’s sultry. It’s sickening. Ugh . She throws a hand over Jaxon’s chest in a handshake. My smile doesn’t reach my eyes as I slide my hand into hers. It’s clammy and a little cold from the condensation of her drink. I drop it as quickly as I can. To my dismay, Kat’s hand drops onto Jaxon’s chest, which she takes as an open invitation to try and unbutton his shirt so she can slide a hand under and rub his chest or something.

Now, I really gag inwardly.

She stares up at him in adoration with her light blue eyes and platinum blonde hair, but Jaxon’s still looking at me, unfazed by Kat’s clearly flirtatious attempt at getting his undivided attention.

I shake my head and tear my gaze away to watch Luisa, one of our violists, duet Breaking Free with Miles, who is now on his fourth karaoke song of the night.

Jaxon leans into my ear to avoid yelling. “C’mon, Sass. You should sing.” His lips are so close to me it sends a zing up my spine. I busy myself by taking a sip of my full cup of water to cure the rush of heat. I wish it were a very full cup of anything else, like tequila. Vodka. Gasoline.

“This isn’t my shower, Tanner,” I say, eyes still on Miles and Luisa, who are now doing a stage performance rendition of the High School Musical song, singing and dancing ecstatically, like Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens in their youth.

“So, it was you I heard the other day.” His lip tugs at one corner.

“What?”

“You were singing. In the shower.”

“I was not.” Heat flushes my cheeks, and I thank the rainbow lighting that covers it. I was singing but I don’t want to admit it.

Jaxon smirks, his dimple popping in that annoying way that makes my heart skip, and I roll my eyes at him.

“I don’t sing in public,” I say. Miles and Luisa bow to a boisterous applause from our group, but Jaxon only leans in further. I sink toward him, melting like the warm chocolate of his eyes, momentarily forgetting why I was mad until the closeness reminds me of how it felt to be without him in rehearsal. The cold realization makes me jerk away. “What, Tanner? Are you going to tell me why you didn’t show up to rehearsal yet?”

His eyes storm, and I almost wish I could take it back when a flash of hurt crosses them. His face hardens and an icy rush floods my skin.

“You left before I could tell you. So don’t try to burn me, Sass, when I’ve been trying to talk to you all night.”

I scoff. Trying to talk to me? His hands on Kat’s hips don’t feel like trying to talk to me. It’s scorched into my brain, especially as she slides her hand up his forearm yet again.

My teeth grind. “You shouldn’t have to tell me now because I should have known before rehearsal, Tanner. That’s what matters!”

Jaxon’s mouth shuts tight. Now the war is in his eyes and I try not to groan in frustration. If he won’t tell me, his stand partner and current hotel roommate, why he wasn’t there, then what am I supposed to believe?

A smirk passes over Kat’s lips. “Best to leave angry girls alone. That way, a bitch won’t bite.”

The fucking gall on this girl.

Jaxon’s shoulders tense and I’m about ready to bite a specific girl’s head off when someone on the far end of the couch interrupts Michael Jackson’s Beat It and yells, “Can we not sing the songs we’re going to perform?”

Laughter erupts, momentarily diffusing the tension as the current singer says loudly into the mic, “Alright, alright. Someone pick a song that we don’t know.”

Beside me, Kat wraps a leg over Jaxon’s lap and climbs over him again. I want to puke. She wobbles a little and his hands steady her at her ribs. When he leans in to say something in her ear that has her keeling over in a fit of giggles, it takes everything in me to not shove her right off.

He’s not mine. I’m not his. And this shouldn’t matter.

But my insides boil. My nails bite into my palm. My jaw hurts from clenching.

Fuck it. I’m not going to sit beside this bullshit.

On the table to my left, a smaller group has a tray of shots. I’ve no clue what’s in it, but I instantly stand up, excuse myself through the legs of those seated to make my way towards it.

“Can I have one?” I ask a girl with deep brown skin and long braids. She beams up at me and mouths, “Of course!” And before I can think twice, I take a shot. I take two.

Instantly, I want to regret it. The tequila burns the back of my mouth and down my throat. It’s nothing like the zing of the wine I had with Jaxon the other night. This liquor packs a neat punch.

Ablaze with my liquid courage, I glance over my shoulder towards him. The blonde girl has slunk off his lap but still remains by his side. He stares back at me intensely, dark eyes smoldering. I grab one of the free mics from the table, the alcohol now fuzzing the panic in my brain as I type in my song choice on the touch screen.

The moment the song slides through the speakers, all the true Swifties of our musical group cheer loudly. Everyone else has pinched expressions of confusion, unsure if we’ve now slipped into the country era of karaoke or if we’re still singing pop music.

“Finally, a Taylor song!” Luisa yells.

“Go Sadie! Woo!” Anh cheers and I crack a smile.

I walk tentatively to the middle of the room, rainbow lights flooding my face in a spectrum of color and all the while looking directly at Jaxon as I break into singing Mr. Perfectly Fine. At every line I relate to him, I sneak a glance in his direction, a memory playing in my mind.

Perfect face. His sharp jaw, dimple grin, and jet-black hair.

Casually cruel. His soft kiss on a cold porch, then “I’m sorry” and he’s walking away from me.

Never told me why. His empty orchestra chair, guilty expression, and insistence on not telling me why.

Even through the brightness of the lights that cast everyone behind it in a grainy haze, I can feel his eyes bore into me. With all the flashing color, I can’t make out his expression but I let myself free in the performance, twirling in the middle of the room in a taunt, or a tease, I can’t tell, except it’s me and my four minutes of fame and blame singing this song.

When I sing the final note, everyone erupts in a cheer. I beam and bow in the spotlight until a tall figure walks toward me and casts me under his shadow. Jaxon towers before me in his full black suit and dark, stormy eyes, his palm open for the mic.

We stare at each other intently, electricity bouncing off his skin onto mine. I place the mic in his hand and our fingers brush. I pretend to ignore the way heat flows through me as I rasp breathlessly, “Your turn for a shower song.”

His eyes turn smoky. Even through the rainbow light show that reflects off his lenses, I’m rooted to the spot by his gaze. He surprises me then when he takes my hand before everyone in the room and pulls me back to the center.

“No, no, no. I’m done for the night. We are not singing a duet.” I start to panic. Jaxon’s grip is firm, which only makes my heart hammer in my chest more. When he tilts his head to me with a smirk, I melt. If he looks at me like that, I might just do anything he says. God, I’m in trouble.

“I’m not asking you to duet with me, Sass. I’m asking you to sit with me.” He lets go of my hand, places it on the small of my back, and gestures to the piano in the corner of the room.

It takes me a second to collect myself, but wordlessly, I slip onto the stool with Jaxon to my left. He slides the mic into the holder, seeming to hesitate with his fingers over the keys. When I look up at him, I realize he paused because he was looking at me. The smolder in his eye burning hot, melting me with it as his lips twitch into a small smile. Without his eyes ever leaving mine, he begins to play.

I crash back into the reality that we aren’t alone when a few people groan behind us. Piano starts to fill the room and from my song to his, there’s a significant change in tempo. It’s slow and smooth and?—

“Tanner, is this?—”

“My shower song? Yes.”

“ Adele… is your shower song?” I start to chuckle, then catch myself. I’m still mad at him.

He plays perfectly without missing a beat. Unperturbed by the lights or the looks being thrown in our direction. Eyes only on me or the piano. A splash of red hits his cheek, then blue, purple, green and yellow. The colors continue to rotate as he brings his lips to the mic and breaks into song, bringing a whole new light to Adele’s Easy On Me .

His voice takes my breath away immediately.

The timbre, the slight hitch on certain notes, the way he climbs through Adele’s challenging verse to reach the top of the chorus, hands thumping strong chords as the group cheers.

“Damn, Jaxon!” Miles cheers, the second mic in hand as if ready to be Jaxon’s backing vocalist. This guy really loves karaoke. I bet this evening was his idea.

I turn back to Jaxon, unable to keep the grin off my face. I’m so used to watching and listening to Jaxon play the violin, I’m in absolute awe over watching him play the piano. For me.

I’ve heard his voice a few times, mostly humming a tune but never singing, really singing.

It’s enchanting. Bewitching. Incredibly… convincing.

It wraps around me like water, slipping into my skin like a caress. Cool. Refreshing. Like the mint on his tongue when I kissed him on that stage. It makes my body sing and heat curl in my stomach. Goosebumps rise all over me as the throbbing between my thighs grows.

I can’t take my eyes off him, completely lost in his song as he sings the final chorus.

The applause for him is the loudest of the evening, but his eyes stay on me as the piano outro rings out. I suppress a shiver as he brings his lips to my ear and whispers, “I’m sorry for not showing up at rehearsal. I hope you’ll go easy on me.”

He barely pulls away, our noses brushing when I turn to him and stare. The anger in me dies into lust and longing as I realize the ballad he chose was an apology to me.

But the bridge between us shatters again as Miles jumps up on a middle table to point at Jaxon and bellows into the mic, “Thank you everyone for coming out to celebrate. Happy Birthday Jaxon!”

It feels like a gut punch, a rug pull, rock slipping from fingers in a rock climb. Every progress between us tonight is one step forward and three steps back.

“It’s your… birthday?” My voice feels distant. I don’t know why it stokes a fire in me, but my ribs feel cracked open. I’m tired of playing do I really know you? with Jaxon.

It shouldn’t matter to me so much. It’s not like I mean anything to him to owe the answer, but… why does it feel like he’s keeping secrets from me? Am I not good enough to know all the deepest parts of him? No matter how badly I want to know them all and give him my own?

“It’s nothing,” he says, his eyes cold. “I don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

Around us, the group continues to cheer as Luisa brings out a small cupcake with a candle on it. They erupt into the Happy Birthday song and while Jaxon plasters a smile on his face, the room feels a thousand degrees warmer. I have to get out.

I jump off the piano stool and hurl myself out of the room.

Air. I need some air.

“Where are you going?” someone calls, but I don’t look back.

I break through the front entrance and the crisp evening air greets me. I take in steady breaths, forgetting once again that I’m outside a bar in a little black dress. A group of men walk by, eyeing me up and down. I instinctively pull my skirt to my knees and wrap my arms around my chest, then I feel the inner silk lining of a suit blazer on my shoulders and a rush of cedar wood and mint around me.

“Here.” A deep voice sounds. I swallow. I should’ve guessed he would come after me.

“What are you doing here?” I turn to Jaxon. “You should be inside celebrating.”

“I promised I’d make sure nobody touched you, remember?”

Right. And me bursting out into the street alone at midnight was probably not the smartest idea.

“You should go back,” I whisper to my shoes. I can’t bear to look at him right now. My body simmers with confusion, frustration, and yearning. I can’t think clearly.

“Not without you. What’s wrong, Sass?”

I bark a laugh. “Really? What’s wrong?” My voice is borderline shrill, but I can’t contain it. “You can’t just sing to me, Jaxon, and expect everything to be okay. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t coming to rehearsal? Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday? Why am I finding these things out from other people? It makes me feel so—so—ugh, so stupid!” His name slipped from my lips in the bit of anger that spurred me. Or maybe it’s the alcohol, but the buzz from earlier has dulled significantly. This conversation is enough to sober me up.

“You’re not stupid,” he bites back. His jaw clenches and even as he steps forward, the gap between us still feels uncrossable.

“That’s not the point,” I say, shaking my head. “The point is, I’m finding out from other people things I feel like I should’ve found out from you. I trusted you.”

His head dips in guilt or shame, and the fire in me doesn’t quieten. “Sadie.” My name again. “I trust you.”

I search in the depths of his dark eyes but come up short. Biting at my lip, I hold on to the question until I can’t anymore. I let it loose. “Is it today? Your birthday?”

His lips frown deeper, the furrow in his brow reflecting even more guilt.

He was keeping it from me. I can’t do this anymore. “You know what, Tanner. If you’re not going to trust me with things, I don’t see the point?—“

“It was on Wednesday,” he admits. His shoulders slacken as he steps back to lean against the wall as if to support his weight.

Wednesday. That was the day we had our rooftop dinner.

My stomach drops.

“That was the night we…”

Jaxon swipes a hand down his face. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? You were already with me.”

The fire in me has reached its peak and his answer will either make it explode or smother it.

“Because I didn’t want you to say no.” His eyes flash guiltily. “To having dinner with me.”

A memory flashes.

Raised glasses for a toast. A pointed glass toward me.

“To company,” he’d said. “Thank you for coming out tonight.”

Jaxon sniffs and crosses his arms over his chest in that walls-up defense he had like at that dinner. “It’s not a big deal.”

It is a big deal. To me, at least. Because now his toast means more than just a thank you. What he really meant was thanks for not leaving me alone.

On a night we talked about feeling lonely. How could I have not seen it?

“You didn’t want to be alone,” I say, softly.

He worries at his lip for a moment then shakes his head, his guilt forming into sadness. A shimmer reflects off his eyes in the dark light, tears he’s holding back.

“How many birthdays have you spent alone, Jax?” I ask, walking slowly toward him. I feel like I know the answer already and my chest caves at its weight. I reach him and place my hands softly on his crossed forearms, coaxing them down.

“Six years,” he says. The fire in me dies. His eyes are pure midnight, dark and stormy, a loneliness wrapped around his body I want to quell.

Ever since he became a professional, he’s celebrated his birthday alone.

And here I was, mad at him for not telling me.

I feel like shit. Jaxon asked me out to dinner on his birthday, we had a great time, and he just wanted to keep it a secret. But why? Why keep it a secret?

His words from that night come to mind. You can’t disappoint someone if you’re not in the picture.

Did he think he was disappointing his family somehow? His parents? His brothers? His other brothers, Xander and Max?

Did he think I would reject him on his birthday if I knew? It doesn’t make sense.

My fingers trail up from his neck to lightly touch the edge of his jaw.

His eyes remain distant, locked in a memory.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper between us. Jaxon only sighs and my heart clenches.

Fuck.

I move to cup his face and tilt it down toward me. My thumbs trace the curve of his cheek until his eyes flit up to mine.

“You shouldn’t have to spend your birthday alone. I’m glad I was with you.”

He nods lightly, dropping his gaze once again, his dark lashes fluttering as a truck scrapes down the road. The next words spill from my lips like a broken faucet.

“I’m so sorry, Jaxon. For being pushy. For being upset with you. I just wanted to know why. And you don’t have to tell me about the rehearsal. I’m sure you have a good reason, but I’m?—”

“Don’t. Apologize,” he says through clenched teeth, his tone more strained rather than mean. Tired, like it’s all been so heavy to keep in. “You apologized to your parents when you didn’t need to, and you’re apologizing to me now.” My breath catches as his hands wind around my waist to pull me closer to him. “You’re allowed to feel how you feel, Sadie. I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

The crack in my chest deepens, opening up to the flood of warmth in his touch, his tone, his eyes. Then Jaxon leans in to bury his face into my neck, my arms winding around him. We stand there in the moonlight, wind wrapping around us softly in a whisper as we hold on to each other.

I feel the need to whisper in his ear. “You’re not alone.”

“I know,” he sighs, his lips at the tip of my nose. “I have you.”

Before I can react, his lips are over mine.