Page 12 of Rockstar Daddy's Second Chance

Cass’s eyes swing back to me as she leaves through the sliding glass door. “Kendrick,” he says, his voice hesitant, as if weighinghis next words carefully. “Would you and Cassidy consider staying here for the summer?”

The question hangs in the air between us, pulling me back to all those nights when he used to ask me to stay just a little longer to share one more song. I again have to shake off the memories. This isn’t about me. Cass wants to be close to his daughter and try to recapture some of their missed years. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m just here to facilitate their connection. But even as I tell myself this, a small part of me wonders—could he want me here too?

Clearing my throat, I state, “Cass, it’s a big step.” My words come out slowly, carefully. ‘I want to make sure it’s the right thing for Cassidy.

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was,” Cass murmurs, his eyes searching mine. “But I want to share more with her than just our love of music. I want to get to know everything about her.”

As I still hesitate, biting my lip, Cass’s gaze softens, his hand reaching out to rest lightly on mine. “I want to be here for her.”

“My job–” I begin, but he cuts me off.

“I’ll cover all costs for both of you. Surely, you could get the time off,” he urges.

Something about his words, his touch, makes me relent. I nod slowly, feeling the lifting of a weight as I make the decision. “Alright. We’ll stay for the summer.”

Cassidy approaches, carefully balancing three glasses brimming with iced tea. After she’s carefully distributed them without spilling a drop, we tell her the news. She practically vibrates with excitement at spending more time with her dad. She grabs her guitar and tries a new chord, and Cass watches her, a look of pure pride on his face. It’s a look I realize I want to see more of, even if it means having to share my daughter’s affections with him. A hollow ache settles in my chest as if a part of her is slowly slipping away.

After the final day of school lets out, we pack and head to the beach—back to Cass and his high-end, privileged lifestyle. Leah was very understanding when I told her about Cassidy’s father wanting to spend time with her. Bless her for not asking questions. I still have some misgivings about all of this, but I keep my fears to myself. I don’t want to spoil anything for Cassidy.

The first morning after we settle in, I’m in the kitchen, making breakfast while Cassidy and Cass sit on the couch, each with a guitar. He’s showing her a few new chords, gently adjusting her hands, and giving her pointers with an attentiveness that leaves me watching in quiet awe.

“She’s a quick learner,” he says, looking up at me as if to include me in their circle. “She’s got a natural gift for melody.”

I smile, though it’s laced with a hint of bittersweetness. “She’s always been able to express her feelings with music or lyrics. It’s her way of truly communicating,” I say softly, meeting his gaze. There’s a knowing–an understanding that only he could fully grasp.

Cassidy strums a few chords, then tries out a run of notes, her face lighting up when she nails it. Cass laughs, reaching over to ruffle her hair. She grins, ducking her head shyly.

As I watch them, I realize that I’m witnessing something precious—a father-daughter bond forming, something I’ve always wanted for Cassidy but feared she’d never have. And yet, it stings a little, knowing that I’m no longer her only confidant, the sole person who understands her hopes and dreams.

Cass glances over at me again once we’re alone, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “Hey, I know you got her that guitar, but maybe it’s time for an upgrade? Something a little more refined.”

I try not to feel insulted because Cass can clearly afford to buy her a better-quality instrument. But still—I’m the one who hand-picked that guitar as the best beginner guitar for Cassidy that I could afford, and even then, it took months of scrimping and saving—of doing without.

I force my response to sound casual. “She’ll love anything you get her. But maybe you shouldn’t move too fast. She’s dealing with enough changes as it is.”

Cass nods thoughtfully but doesn’t comment. When Cassidy comes back, he shows her how to move her fingers up and down the frets with ease. I can see the admiration in her eyes and the awe she feels around him. The way she hangs onto his every word, soaking up his advice and encouragement as if she’s been waiting for this her whole life. And in some ways, she has.

They are both absorbed in their music for most of the morning, taking breaks only when I bring out snacks, or they need a quick breather. I settle onto the deck, watching the waves roll in; the steady lull of the ocean is a comforting background to their music. Now and then, I notice Cass looking over at me, his gaze lingering just a little too long. His blue eyes catch mine, and for a moment, it feels like no time has passed. That same magnetic pull makes me wonder if he still feels it, too.

As the sun sinks lower, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, we head to the beach. The sand is cool beneath our feet, and the rhythmic crash of waves fills the silence between us. Cassidy makes fun of the baseball cap and large aviator sunglasses Cass wears so no one will recognize him. Cassidy sprints ahead, her laughter blending with the sound of the waves as she splashes through the surf. Cass and I trail behind, our steps slow, the quiet between us charged with unspoken words.

He nudges my arm lightly, his voice low. “Do you remember that night we spent on the beach in San Diego?”

I glance over, a smile tugging at my lips. “We got lost trying to find that tiny seafood place, didn’t we?”

He chuckles, nodding. “And we ended up wandering around until dawn.”

For a moment, it’s just the two of us, our shared memories casting a warm glow between us. But then, Cassidy calls out, breaking the moment, and I watch as Cass races toward her, scooping her up and spinning her around as she shrieks with laughter. Watching them, I feel a pang, a reminder that some moments—moments that were just my daughter’s and mine—are now Cass’s, too. I guess I need to get used to it.

When we get back to the house, the sun has fully set, and the three of us are exhausted from the day. Cassidy heads to bed early, and I wander into the kitchen, craving a glass of wine. I get a glass and turn toward the fridge when I feel a warm presence behind me. Turning, I find Cass leaning in the doorway, his eyes lingering on the thin straps of my beach coverup, the loose fabric brushing against my legs.

“Kendrick,” he murmurs, his voice a deep rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.

I swallow hard, the air between us growing thick. His eyes linger, tracing over me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken. It feels as though he’s memorizing every detail, every inch of me.

“Cass, I… just needed a drink.” My voice is softer than I intended, breathier, and his gaze darkens slightly.

He steps closer, so close I can feel his warmth, smell the faint scent of salt, and smell something distinctly him. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long.

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