Page 51 of Rockstar Daddy's Second Chance

Cassidy nods, clutching the notebook with nervous determination, her fingers gripping the edges tightly. “I think so,” she whispers, taking a deep breath. She glances at Kendrick. “Mom, will you watch from here? I think it helps when you’re close.”

Kendrick steps up beside me, and we both give her a nod of reassurance. She looks up at us with a mix of awe and determination that tugs at my heart. I know that look—it’s one I’ve felt in myself before every performance that mattered.

As Cassidy lowers the mic stand, I adjust my guitar and tune it for a few seconds, letting her hear the rhythm and connect with it, falling in sync. She takes a deep breath and then begins. The first few notes are shaky, but as the song progresses, her voice grows stronger and more assured. I come in with the harmony,the music filling the space between us, creating something larger than either of us could make alone. Kendrick watches, her arms crossed, but I see her fingers tapping lightly to the rhythm, and it’s clear she’s as swept up in the moment as we are.

When Cassidy finishes the last line, she glances over, a hopeful look in her eyes. “How’d I do, Dad?”

I grin, a surge of pride swelling inside me. “You nailed it, Cassidy. Let’s do a final take to see if we can capture even more of that energy. Okay?”

During the final take, Cassidy’s confidence soars. She doesn’t just sing; she owns the song, and her voice soars over the lines, clear and pure.

Cassidy’s cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright with excitement. She turns to Kendrick, who’s already moving forward to meet her. “Mom, did you hear that? Dad and I sounded amazing!” Cassidy exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.

Kendrick pulls her into a tight hug, her voice thick with emotion. “I did, sweetheart. You were… incredible.” She looks up at me, her eyes shining. “Both of you.”

Cassidy laughs, a carefree sound that fills the room. “Can we listen to the playback?”

Sam cues up the recording, and we all crowd around, listening intently as Cassidy’s voice fills the room once more. There’s something about hearing it like this, as though we’re outside ofourselves, listening to her talent as though she were a seasoned performer. It’s surreal but beautiful.

Cassidy’s eyes are wide when the playback ends, her expression almost reverent. “Is that really me?” she whispers, glancing up at us.

I put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. “That’s all you, sweetheart. And it’s just the beginning.”

Cassidy glows under the praise, practically floating on air. She looks up at Kendrick, her expression turning serious. “Mom, you don’t mind if I keep doing this, right? With Dad?”

Kendrick hesitates, her soft sigh betraying an internal battle. I know she’s weighing her desire to protect Cassidy from fame’s darker sides against the pride she feels in seeing her shine. A quiet acceptance that her daughter has inherited a gift.

“As long as you’re happy and you’re doing it for yourself,” Kendrick says gently, “then yes, Cassidy. But remember, music is about joy, not pressure. Promise me you’ll always hold onto that.”

Cassidy nods, her face serious. “I promise, Mom.”

Later, as we take a break, Cassidy’s gaze lands on Kendrick’s bag. “Mom, you brought your notebook of songs?”

Kendrick hesitates, glancing at me, then back at Cassidy. Finally, she pulls out a thick, well-worn notebook, its edges frayed from years of use. “Yes,” she says softly.

“How many are in there?” I ask curiously.

“Hundreds,” Kendrick admits, a shy smile tugging at her lips. She flips to the middle of the notebook and pulls out a smaller bundle of neatly folded pages. “These are the best ones… about twenty or so.”

Cassidy reaches out. “Will you sing one for Dad? Please?”

Kendrick’s fingers tighten around the bundle. “Maybe someday,” she says gently. “But not today.”

Cassidy’s face falls slightly, but she nods. Then, her expression brightens. “What about the heartbreak song? My favorite?”

Kendrick freezes, her eyes darting to mine. For a moment, the air between us feels charged with something unspoken. “Not that one,” she says quickly, shaking her head. Her voice softens as her gaze locks with mine. “Not yet. I’m not ready to share that with anyone.”

While Cassidy catches her breath, I guide Kendrick over to the corner and pull her into my side, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?” I ask, my voice low.

She nods, glancing back at Cassidy, who’s now talking animatedly with Sam about different recording techniques. “I am,” Kendrick says softly, a faint smile on her lips. “I just don’t want her caught in a whirlwind, Cass. Fame isn’t always kind to young talent.”

I brush the back of my hand down her face, understanding exactly what she means. “She’s got us. We’ll be her safety net and guide. She’s not going to face anything alone, Kendrick. I won’t let that happen.”

A flicker of relief crosses her face, and she leans into me, letting herself trust that we’re in this together. “Thank you, Cass. For understanding my concerns.”

We rejoin Cassidy, eager for another go at the mic, solo this time. We spend the rest of the session recording a few more tracks, each one a little better than the last.

Later as we’re packing up, I can see the excitement in Cassidy’s eyes is tinged with exhaustion. She’s given it her all, and it’s clear she’s ready to call it a day. Sam pulls me aside while Kendrick gathers Cassidy’s things.

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