Rockstar’s Accidental Marriage (Wild Band Rockstars #2)

28. Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Eight

Sam

The past two weeks have been a blur of rehearsals, performances, and whispered conversations in Cass’s office. Every spare moment seems to find me sitting across from him, trying to untangle a web that feels increasingly sinister. And today is no different.

I lean back in my chair, watching as Cass paces the room, his phone pressed to his ear. His brow is furrowed, his movements sharp, like he’s barely containing his frustration. It’s a side of him I don’t see often. Cass is usually the epitome of calm under pressure, the rockstar who can charm a stadium full of screaming fans without breaking a sweat. But this? This is different.

“Thanks, Jaxson,” he says finally, his tone clipped. “Keep me updated.” He ends the call and tosses his phone onto the desk with more force than necessary.

“Still nothing?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Cass shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair. “Not yet. Jaxson’s investigative team has been tailing Jeb, but so far, it’s all circumstantial. The guy’s been meeting with Derrick, but we don’t have proof of what they’re up to.”

“Derrick, as in our previous manager?” I let out a low whistle at Cass's nod, leaning forward. “You never did tell us why you let him go.”

Cass snorts, dropping into the chair across from me. “I fired him because he’s a manipulative bastard.”

Raising an eyebrow at the venom in his voice, I state, “I can’t say that I’m surprised. Derrick was a hell of a good manager, but he didn’t have much else going for him.” I look over at Cass with a grimace. “I, for one, was glad to see him go. I never liked him–the guy gave me bad vibes.”

“Bad vibes don’t even begin to cover it,” Cass mutters grimly.

My eyes continue to study Cass, guessing there’s more to the story.

Exhaling sharply, Cass’s gaze remains fixed on the desk. He looks up, and there’s something raw in his expression. “I guess I should tell you the real reason Kendrick left all those years ago.”

That gets my attention. I straighten in my seat, my focus narrowing on him. “What do you mean?”

Cass leans back, his jaw tightening. “Kendrick found out she was pregnant with Cassidy, and…” As Cass tells me the details of Kendrick leaving twelve years ago, my eyes widen in stunned disbelief. The weight of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. I’ve always suspected there was more to Kendrick’s departure than she let on, but hearing it laid out like this makes my stomach churn.

“She left to protect you and your career,” I say quietly, my voice low.

Cass nods, his eyes dark. “Yeah. Do you know Derrick was even going to tamper with the paternity test?” Cass tightens his lips. “Kendrick was young, scared, and she didn’t want to be the reason I lost everything. So she left.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, running a hand over my face. “That’s... that’s messed up.”

“That’s Derrick,” Cass says bitterly. “The guy’s a master manipulator. And now he’s sniffing around again, using Jeb to stir up trouble. I don’t know what his endgame is, but I’m not letting him get away with it this time.”

The room falls into a heavy silence, so silent I can hear the faint hum of the air conditioning. I can feel Cass’s frustration and anger, and I don’t blame him. Derrick’s actions didn’t just affect him and Kendrick—they had a ripple effect on all of us in the band. And now, it seems, he’s trying to do it again.

“What about Emily?” I ask after a moment. “Should we tell her?”

Cass hesitates, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know. She’s already dealing with enough. The pregnancy, the tours—I don’t want to pile this on top of everything.”

“Neither do I,” I say slowly. “But if Jeb is working for Derrick, Emily should know. Not just because she’s the band’s manager, Cass–what if she’s the target? I don’t want her in danger.”

He nods reluctantly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right. But let’s wait until we have more concrete proof. I don’t want to stress her out unless we have to.”

“Fair enough,” I agree, though the thought of keeping something like this from Emily doesn’t sit well with me. Still, Cass is right—there’s no sense in worrying her until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.

The conversation shifts after that, the tension in the room easing slightly. Cass leans back in his chair, his gaze softening as he looks at me. “So... you and my little sister. How’s that going?”

I can’t help but smile at the question. “It’s going great, actually. Emily is... amazing. Strong, smart, funny. I mean, you know all that, but seeing her like this—pregnant, managing the band, keeping everything together—she’s really something.”

Cass’s lips curve into a small smile. “Yeah, she’s always been like that. Stubborn as hell, too. Must run in the family.”

“Must,” I agree with a chuckle.

Cass’s expression grows thoughtful, and he leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “You know, my biggest regret is not being there for Kendrick when she was pregnant with Cassidy. I missed so much—doctor’s appointments and the first time Cassidy kicked. I let Derrick blind me to everything but my pursuit of fame–my career was the only thing that was important, and I never went after her.”

I meet his gaze, understanding the weight of his words. “You’re making up for it now, though. You and Kendrick—you’ve got a good thing going. And Cassidy—that kid adores you.”

He smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah, we’re lucky. But don’t make the same mistakes I did, Sam. Be there for Emily. No matter what’s happening with the band or Derrick or any of this crap—be there.”

“I will,” I promise, my voice steady. “Emily and our baby—they’re my priority.”

Cass nods, satisfied. “Good. Because if you screw this up, I’ll kick your ass.”

I laugh, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness in his tone that I don’t miss. “Noted.”

As we wrap up our conversation, I can’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. Derrick might be lurking in the shadows, but we’re onto him. And as long as we stick together—as long as I stick by Emily—we’ll handle whatever comes our way.

The next morning, the anticipation is heavy in the air. Emily beams as we head to the doctor’s office for the ultrasound. She’s radiant, glowing in a way that stops me in my tracks every time I look at her. She’s traded her usual nerves for excitement, and seeing her like this makes me smile.

Our time in the waiting room feels like it stretches on forever, but Emily’s energy keeps the mood light. She taps her foot, flipping through a magazine she’s clearly not reading, and glances at me with a playful grin.

“You’re nervous this time,” she teases, her eyes sparkling.

“I’m not,” I lie, shaking my head.

Her grin widens. “You totally are. Your knee’s been bouncing for the last five minutes.”

I glance down, realizing she’s right, and force myself to stop. “Okay, maybe I am. But only because you’re not.” As she quirks an eyebrow, I admit, “I truly don’t care if it's a girl or a boy.”

Her expression softens, her hand reaching out to squeeze mine. “Me either. I just want the baby to be healthy.”

When they finally call us back, Emily’s the first to hop up. I follow her into the room, where the technician is waiting, with a kind smile.

The room fills with the hum of the machine and the faint swish of the gel being applied to Emily’s stomach. My hand finds hers as the technician moves the wand across her belly, the screen flickering to life with black-and-white images.

“And there’s your baby,” the technician says, her voice warm.

The room falls silent as we both stare at the screen. Because this time, we can see that it’s an actual baby.

“That’s incredible—look, Sam! Tiny hands, tiny feet, the outline of a little face.” My chest tightens at Emily’s excited voice, and I can hardly breathe; my chest is so tight.

“You want to know the sex of the baby, right?” the technician confirms, glancing between us.

Emily looks at me, her eyes wide with excitement. “Are we ready, Sam?”

I nod. “Yeah, let’s hear it.”

The technician smiles, moving the wand slightly. “Congratulations—you’re having a little girl.”

Emily lets out a soft gasp, her hand flying to her mouth as tears well up in her eyes, and something in my chest cracks open. But I’m frozen, my mind racing as the word echoes in my head—a little girl. I’m going to have a daughter. I’m a father.

“A little girl,” Emily whispers, her voice trembling. She turns to me, her expression a mix of awe and delight. “Sam, we’re having a baby girl.”

I squeeze her hand, finally finding my voice. “Yeah.” It comes out husky with emotion.

The way she continues to look at me, full of pure joy and wonder, makes me want to pull her into my arms and never let go.

The rest of the appointment passes in a blur. Emily asks a dozen questions this time around. Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I do my best to keep up, though my mind is still stuck on what the technician said—a little girl.

The beach is quiet when we arrive later that afternoon. Emily insisted on a walk to process the news, and I didn’t argue. She’s wearing an outfit that hugs her growing curves, and she takes my breath away. Pregnancy suits her—there’s this glow about her that makes it hard to look away.

We walk side by side, our feet sinking into the sand with each step—the steady rhythm of the waves matching the hum of excitement, still thrumming in my chest.

“She’s going to be so spoiled,” Emily says suddenly, breaking the silence.

I glance at her, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Because she’s going to be a daddy’s girl,” she replies with a grin.

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I don’t think that’s automatic.”

“Oh, it is,” she says confidently. “Just wait. She’s going to have you wrapped around her little finger in no time at all.”

“Maybe,” I admit with a pleased grin because the thought doesn’t bother me.

We keep walking, the conversation drifting to names, nursery themes, and everything in between. We’re both excited, and it feels like we’re on the same page.

It’s only when we round a bend in the shoreline that we see them—a couple standing by the water’s edge, their hands clasped as they exchange vows. A small group of people gathered around them, their laughter and applause carrying on the breeze.

Emily slows, her gaze fixed on the scene. There’s a wistfulness in her expression that makes my chest ache.

“That’s sweet,” she says softly. “Renewing their vows like that.”

I nod, unsure where this is going.

“Would you ever want to do that?” she asks, turning to look at me.

Her question catches me off guard. I stop walking, my mind scrambling for an answer. “Emphatically, no,” I say, my voice harsher than intended.

Her eyes widen in surprise, and I see the flicker of hurt before she quickly masks it. “Oh,” she says, her tone neutral. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

I open my mouth to explain, but the words don’t come. How do I tell her that our wedding—impulsive as it was—meant something to me? And that even though she doesn’t remember it–I do! That I’ve held onto those memories, replaying them in my mind more times than I can count?

Instead, I shrug, trying to play it off. “I just think it’s unnecessary. Once is enough, don’t you think?”

She nods slowly, her gaze dropping to the sand. “Yeah. I guess so.”

The rest of the walk is quiet, and the easy rhythm of our conversation is replaced by tension, which I can feel, but I don’t know what to do about it. Emily doesn’t say much, and I don’t know how to fix it.

By the time we reach the house, the mood has shifted entirely.

Watching Emily disappear upstairs, the hurt in her eyes haunts me. My body aches to follow her, to explain everything, but the weight of what I can't tell her keeps me rooted in place. The sound of the shower running upstairs feels like a barrier between us.

I know I screwed up. I just don’t know how to make it right.