Page 1 of Healing Hearts
Prologue – Ten Years Ago
The dim, smoky ambiance of The Velvet Note wraps around me like a warm embrace, the kind of place that feels alive with stories. Soft laughter and the low hum of conversation ripple through the intimate jazz club, mingling with the rich aroma of whiskey and old wood. My friends are crowded around our tiny table, their chatter about our whirlwind college weekend in New Orleans buzzing in the background. But I’m barely listening to them.
My attention is riveted to the stage.
The lone saxophonist stands in the soft glow of the spotlight, his silhouette lean and powerful. His hands glide over the instrument with a confidence that seems effortless, coaxing out notes that rise and fall like waves on a restless ocean. The music is... entrancing. Smooth yet raw, it pierces through the haze of the room and settles deep in my chest.
I can’t look away.
He’s not just playing music—he’s telling a story, one that’s achingly beautiful and somehow familiar, as if the notes themselves have been plucked from my own hidden thoughts. His eyes are closed, his brow furrowed in concentration, and I wonder what he’s thinking about, what’s fueling the emotionpouring from his saxophone. Whatever it is, it’s mesmerizing. The crowd is enraptured, their conversations fading into quiet reverence.
“Brooke,” Kendall whispers, nudging me with her elbow. “Earth to Brooke. Are you okay?”
I blink, breaking the spell just enough to turn to her. “Yeah,” I murmur, my voice softer than I intended. “I’m fine. It’s just... him.”
Kendall follows my gaze and smiles knowingly. “The saxophonist?”
I nod, unable to articulate the way his music is making me feel. It’s not just the melody or the rhythm—it’s the soul of it, the way it stirs something deep and untouchable inside me.
“He’s good,” Kendall agrees, leaning back in her chair and sipping her drink. “But you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost,” I whisper. “A masterpiece.”
Her laugh is soft, indulgent, but I don’t care. I’m transfixed.
The song transitions, moving from a sultry, mournful tune to something lighter, more playful, and I catch a glimpse of his face as he steps closer to the edge of the stage. He opens his eyes briefly, scanning the room, and I feel a strange jolt when his gaze flickers past mine. It’s fleeting, gone in an instant, but it leaves me breathless.
When the final note rings out, the room erupts in applause, but I’m slow to react. My hands eventually come together, clapping along with the others, but my heart is still caught in the music.
“That was incredible,” one of my other friends, Maddie, says, breaking the moment. “We have to stay for the next set.”
“Yes, but first, I’m buying his CD,” I say, standing abruptly and smoothing down the hem of my dress.
Kendall raises an eyebrow. “A CD? What is this, 1995?”
I roll my eyes but don’t slow my pace. “I don’t care. I need to take that sound home with me.”
Near the bar, a modest table is set up with a small stack of CDs. A handwritten sign reads Saxophone by Night - Live at The Velvet Note. My hands tremble slightly as I pick one up, my thumb brushing over the black-and-white image of a saxophone on the cover.
“Good choice,” the man behind the table says, a warm smile lighting up his face. “That’s his best set so far. You a fan?”
I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “I am now.”
Handing over a crumpled twenty, I clutch the CD to my chest as I head back to the table. My friends tease me about my newfound obsession, but I don’t care. This music is changing my life…I just know it.
Later that night, in our tiny motel room, I play the CD on repeat as I lie in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. The music fills the space, spilling into every corner, weaving its way into my soul.
And in that moment, I know I’ll never forget the lone saxophonist from The Velvet Note. His music has left a mark on me, though I could never have imagined how deeply intertwined his story would become with mine.
Chapter 1
Brooke
Itake a deep breath as I unlock the library doors inside the elementary school, the familiar scent of old books mingling with freshly printed pages greets me like an old friend. It’s quiet, peaceful—a stark contrast to the bustling halls just outside. This is my domain. Here, I’m Miss Edwards, the friendly librarian with a perpetual smile and a knack for finding the perfect story for every child.
Outside these walls, I’m Sophie Quinn, the woman who weaves tales of forbidden romance and passion. I love both sides of my life equally…as long as one side doesn’t overlap into the other.
I drop my satchel onto the circulation desk and turn on the lights, casting a warm glow over the rows of colorful book spines. The morning sunlight filtering through the tall windows, dancing across the carpeted floor in the storytime nook, and I allow myself a brief moment of contentment before the chaos invades this quiet room.
