Page 5 of Rockstar Daddy's Second Chance

“I’ll… think about it, Cassidy.”

“I know it’s expensive–but everyone’s going,” she mutters, crossing her arms. A mixture of disappointment and hope flashes in her eyes as we continue down the street toward home.

I take another deep breath, her hopeful face blurring before me. I’m caught between the image of him and the girl at my side.

I hesitate, wanting to relent. I could possibly scrape up the money… but then say warningly, “I said I’d think about it.” My tone makes it clear I’m done with that topic for now.

Cassidy can’t hide her disappointment as we silently walk the rest of the way—the excitement dimming from her eyes. As I watch her retreat into her thoughts, I can’t ignore the feeling that everything is moving too fast.

As we step into the house, the silence envelops me once again. But now, it feels different—less like a haven and more like a quiet lull before the past comes crashing back in.

Three

Cass

I’m backstage at the Jacksonville Memorial Arena, waiting to go onstage. The walls muffle the roar of the crowd, but even that distant thunder can’t reach me. People are out there chanting my name, their excitement building with every second I delay. It should feel exhilarating like adrenaline shooting straight through my veins. But—it doesn’t. There’s nothing: no rush, not even a spark.

My manager strides over, grinning from ear to ear. He’s riding high on the crowd’s energy. “Cass, this place is packed to the rafters. We’ve got VIPs, press, local big shots, the whole nine yards. They’re out there for you, man. This night’s going to be one for the books.”

Nodding, I give him a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. Another one.”

Ignoring the flatness of my voice, he glances at me eagerly. “Hey, I can arrange for some of the local VIPs to meet you backstage after the show. There’s a group of superfans who’d kill for the chance to meet Cass Wild in the flesh. They’re stoked and want to meet you.”

But the thought of having anyone backstage, for any reason, leaves me cold.

“No groupies tonight, Derrick,” I say, my voice firm. “No VIPs. No afterparty. Just me, the show, and an empty room when it’s done. Got it?”

His grin fades, his eyes narrowing. “Come on, man. These people live for this. We’re only here for one night. They’d do anything to meet you in person.”

I meet Derrick’s gaze, unflinching. “I’m not in the mood, Derrick. Make sure no one’s waiting for me after the show.”

He sighs, exasperated, but he knows when I’m serious. “Fine. But, Cass, you need to get over this, whateverthisis.”

“Got it,” I say, shrugging. “But tonight, It’s only about the music.”

Derrick shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he walks away. I don’t even feel guilty for throwing his schedule off, and I’m not going to change my mind. Once the show is over, I just want to be alone.

A stagehand appears, giving me the signal. It’s time. A cold, steady calm washes over me as I take one last deep breath and step into the blinding light. The roar of the crowd hits me like a wall. I square my shoulders, plaster on the same smile I’ve worn for years, and make my way to the stage and the waiting fans.

The roar of the audience reverberates through the arena, the last notes of the encore fade away, and the crowd chants for more as I step off the stage. Their voices thunder behind me, but all I feel is that strange emptiness pressing down on me. The thrill of the encore used to be my lifeblood. Now, it feels hollow and empty—a reminder of a passion that’s slowly burned itself out.

My manager catches me the second I’m offstage, a satisfied smile plastered across his face. “Cass! That was unbelievable! You’ve got them eating out of your hand. You sure you don’t want—“

“No, Derrick. Not tonight,” I say sternly. “Make sure no one’s back there,”

He sighs, shaking his head before nodding. “Alright, fine. But don’t get too used to this, Cass. You’ve got a role to play, and people have high expectations.”

He heads off, and I turn toward my dressing room, hoping for a few minutes of peace. I push the door open, and the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.

Two young girls are standing by the far wall, wide-eyed and looking out of place. Pre-teens, if I had to guess. The shorter brunette looks star-struck. The taller one, a blonde, is watching me with a look of pure awe.

“Hey,” I chide them, making sure to leave the door wide open. “Who let you two in here?”

The blonde girl steps forward, looking slightly nervous but defiant. “I’m Cassidy. And this is my best friend, Holly.” Her voice wavers, but she squares her shoulders, refusing to back down.

Cassidy. The name fits her somehow. Her face, framed by a halo of pale blonde hair, stirs something within me that feels achingly familiar. It’s not just the boldness in her gray eyes—it’s an echo of a memory I can’t quite grasp. A strange feeling pulls at me as if I should know her, but I brush it aside.

“Cassidy,” I say slowly, “How were you able to get by security?”

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