Rockstar Daddy

rockstar daddy The Butterfly Effect Book One sarah blake Copyright © 2023 by Sarah Blake All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. contents Don’t miss anything! Author’s note: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 31. Epilogue Keep Up With Sarah Blake Sarah Blake’s Books don’t miss anything! Join my newsletter for exclusive content, cover reveals, preorder announcements, giveaways, ARC sign-ups, newsletters, and more! You can also join my reader group, Sarah Blake’s Little World or follow me on social media (@authorsarahblake on Instagram & TikTok)! author’s note: Ana, our heroine, has a rough past. She’s been abused by her ex and her trauma and fear still haunt her. Rhys, our hero, luckily is the best man to take care of her. there are trigger warnings for: Domestic violence and general violence. chapter one The loud streets of New York usually calmed Rhys. They usually brought him a sense of peace nothing and no one else ever could. The city was his happy place, the place he called his home. He’d loved it as a struggling musician, and now that he’d made it, he loved it as a successful one. When he was stressed, he knew a walk would make him feel better. Despite the ridiculous amount of people, dirty streets and sidewalks, tourists, and eye watering stench, he wouldn’t want to live anywhere else but New York City. And if the city couldn’t calm him, he’d head to the club to play with a sub. Sometimes only a sub bent over a bench, her ass bright red from his paddle was all he needed to calm down. Today, however, the city didn’t bring him peace. His walk didn’t bring him clarity or inspiration. The smells were worse, the people were more annoying, and the filth was making him itchy. He couldn’t even think about going to the club without his stomach twisting into a tight knot. His cousin had called him to tell him his mentor’s mother was dying. Rhys was angry. He was confused. He hated the world; he hated God. How could a sweet woman like Linda be dying? She’d taken him and his friends in when no one else did. Her son, Felix, became like a father to him. He’d believed in him and his band when everyone told them to give up, that becoming a rockstar was a pipe dream. If it wasn’t for Felix and his mother, Rhys didn’t know where he’d be. He didn’t know if he would’ve ever had the courage or confidence to ignore everyone else and keep pursuing his dreams. He didn’t know if his band would’ve kept pursuing their dreams. But because of Felix, they were The Butterfly Effect, one of the hottest rock bands at the moment. Everyone knew them; everyone loved them. They were at the peak of their careers right now, and they only had Felix and Linda to thank for that. He stomped into the apartment he shared with the guys and tossed his keys on the entry table by the door before shrugging his coat off. He just wanted to turn his mind off for a bit, but he couldn’t. Not with the guilt, anger, and anxiety warring inside him. He didn’t want to tell the guys. He didn’t want to see Kody’s face, or feel Tate’s upset, or get angry at Vincent for showing no emotion. He didn’t want to argue with them about paying for her treatments. Linda wouldn’t take his money. She wouldn’t take any of their money. They’d tried for years, but the woman was more stubborn than her son. They wouldn’t take any of the band's money, and it wasn’t from a lack of trying. Rhys ran his hand through his dark blond hair, tugging lightly on it as he made his way to the kitchen. The high ceilings and tall windows usually helped him not feel claustrophobic, but today he felt trapped. Like he was drowning. Like he was lost. He abruptly stopped when he saw Tate sitting at the island, a million take-out containers scattered in front of him. He scrolled on his phone, seemingly oblivious to Rhys’ presence. His stomach twisted as he forced himself to step forward. How did he start this conversation? He couldn’t just come out and say she was dying, could he? Maybe he just didn’t want to say it. Saying it made it real, and he didn’t want it to be real. He moved forward, keeping his eyes averted from Tate. His dark skin glowed under the low golden light of the kitchen, and his dark eyes stayed trained on his phone. Rhys pulled open the stainless-steel fridge and scanned the contents. Take-out containers, Kody’s meal prep, some random leftover pasta from the other night…he pushed all of it aside and found the beers he’d stashed in the back. Pulling a bottle out, he popped the top as he shut the door. Turning, he leaned against the counter, one hand gripping the bottle, the other gripping the edge of the counter. He knew Tate knew he was there, that he was staring right at him, but he didn’t look up. Did he know what was happening? Rhys opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, as Kody stalked in. His face was uncharacteristically angry, and Rhys’ mouth snapped shut again. Kody stopped and looked between Tate and Rhys. Tate was still ignoring them, and Rhys was looking anywhere but at