Page 37 of Rockstar's Accidental Marriage

He doesn’t respond right away, but the tension in his shoulders seems to ease slightly.

“You’ll get a chance to meet him soon,” he says after a moment, his tone casual, but his eyes watch me cautiously.

I blink, caught off guard. “I will?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “He’s expecting me to visit now that the Jacksonville performance is over. I told him I’d be down once the band is between tours.”

“You did?” I ask, my voice rising slightly in surprise.

“Maybe you’d like to go with me?” He offers, his expression steady. “If you’re up for it, we could drive down to the farm in a couple of weeks.”

The question hangs in the air, and I catch something vulnerable in his expression—a hint of the same uncertainty I'm feeling. This isn't just about meeting his father; it's about letting me into a part of his life he's kept private until now.

“I’d like that,” I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his smile soft but genuine. “Good.”

For a moment, we just sit there, his hand holding mine, and I feel something shift between us—something deeper than attraction or obligation. There's still so much unsaid, so much to figure out, but right now, in this quiet moment, it feels like we're finally moving in the same direction.

Twelve

Sam

The drive to Ocala feels longer than it is. Maybe it’s the quiet anticipation of sharing pieces of my childhood with Emily that leaves me feeling exposed. Or maybe it’s the fact that this is the first time I’ve ever taken someone to meet my dad.

Emily sits in the passenger seat, her hands resting lightly on her lap, her eyes scanning the endless stretch of green pastures and fences that line the backroads. She hasn’t said much since we left Jacksonville, but I catch her stealing glances at me every now and then, her expression unreadable.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask, breaking the silence.

She looks at me, startled, then nods quickly. “Just... wondering.”

“About what?”

“About your father,” she admits, her voice soft. “What he’ll think of me.”

I chuckle, though there’s a nervous edge to it. “Don’t worry. He acts like a tough guy, but he’s not as intimidating as he seems.”

My words don’t seem to ease her worry, and honestly, I don’t blame her. My dad isn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. He’s quiet and reserved—the kind of man who speaks volumes with a single look. But underneath all that, he’s a good man.

I just hope he shows that side to Emily.

We pull up to the farm just as the sun dips low in the sky, casting the fields in a golden glow. The sight of the place sends a pang of nostalgia twisting in my chest.

The farmhouse looks just like it always does—simple but sturdy, with a wraparound porch that could use a fresh coat of paint. The barn stands off to the side, its red boards faded from years of sun and rain, and the pastures stretch out endlessly, dotted with grazing cattle.

My dad steps out onto the porch as we park, his silhouette framed by the warm glow of the porch light. He’s still wearing his work clothes—faded jeans, a flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of worn boots. His red hair is a bit more gray than the last time I was here, and his face is lined with years of hard work, but his eyes are sharp and steady as they meet mine.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, climbing out of the car.

“Sam,” he says with a nod, his voice deep and even. His gaze shifts to Emily, and his brows lift slightly in surprise. “Who’s this?”

“This is Emily,” I say, motioning for her to join me. “Emily, this is my dad, Clay Ryder.”

Emily steps forward, her smile warm but a little shy. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Ryder.”

He nods, his gaze assessing but not unkind. “Call me Clay,” he says simply, then looks back at me. “Didn’t know you were bringing company.”

“Yeah, well...” I glance at Emily, then back at him, with a shrug. “There’s a lot to catch you up on.”

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