Page 57 of Rockstar Daddy's Second Chance

“You know,” I say, carefully casual, “do you guys ever hang out? Like, outside of shows and rehearsals?”

Cass sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not really. Everyone’s so busy with their own lives. Rehearsals are rushed. Even at gigs, we’re all just in and out. It’s not like it used to be.”

“Like when we were starting out?” I ask, leaning forward.

“Yeah, it was once.” He smiles faintly, his eyes softening. “Back when we were putting the band together, we’d all hang out just to jam—no setlists, no pressure—just creating music for the hell of it. We’d play until we couldn’t keep our eyes open, laughing at each other’s mistakes. It was… a blast.”

I let his words sink in, nodding in complete understanding at the wistfulness in his voice. “Why don’t you do that anymore?”

Cass shrugs, looking out the window. “Life, I guess. There’s always something to do, someone to please. It’s hard to make time for it now because we’re all so busy.”

The nostalgic tone in his voice sparks an idea. “Maybe it’s time to bring it back.”

He raises an eyebrow, curious. “Bring what back?”

“You’ll see,” I reply, a plan already forming in my mind.

The next morning, I’m on a mission. I pull out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I find Sam’s number.

“Hey, Kendrick,” he answers after the second ring.

“Sam,” I say, my excitement coming through the phone. “What do you think about a beach jam session? No pressure, no crowd—just the band hanging out and playing.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then he laughs. “Sounds like fun. Count me in.”

One by one, I reach out to the rest of the band. Luke, Vince, and Nate all say yes, their enthusiasm growing with each call.

By the time I finish, everything is set. The band is on board, the gear is sorted, and Cass has no idea what’s coming.

That evening, the sun is just beginning to dip toward the horizon, and the sky is being painted in shades of orange and pink.

“Okay, it’s time,” I announce. “Let’s all head down to the beach.”

“What’s going on?” Cass asks, his suspicion growing as I lead him past the deck and over the dunes. Cassidy finally lets out a giggle. She’s done well in keeping my secret all day.

“You’ll see,” I say noncommittally, trying to contain my grin.

When we round the corner, Cass’s steps falter. The entire band is there, setting up guitars and a keyboard on a large blanket. Nate adjusts a set of bongos, and Sam waves, a grin plastered across his face.

“What is this?” Cass asks, his voice tinged with surprise.

“It’s for you,” I say softly. “And for the band. I thought all of you could use a reminder of what you guys love about making music together.”

Cass stares at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I think I’ve miscalculated. Then he turns, pulling me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

I smile against his chest, relieved and happy. “Go. Enjoy yourself and have fun.”

As the sun sinks below the horizon, the music begins. Cass strums the first chords, and the rest of the band falls into place naturally. Their sound is softer, lower, and unpolished, but it’s beautiful—pure joy in every note.

I sit on a blanket nearby with Cassidy, watching her sway to the music. She’s mesmerized, her wide eyes fixed on her dad as he plays.

“This is so cool,” she whispers, leaning against me.

I nod, my chest tight with emotion. “It really is.”

The band moves seamlessly from one song to the next, transitioning from old favorites to improvised riffs. Laughter punctuates the music, the kind that comes from being completely at ease with each other.

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