Page 10 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

“It wouldn’t be, except it meant turning down the tour with CB Rice. That was my shot, you know? The kind musicians dream about. International venues, recording contract, the chance to finally make a name for myself beyond local bars.”

“I understand,” she said quietly.

“I never dreamed they’d ask me to join them, especially after they hit it big.”

“How did it come about?”

“About four years ago, Ben Rice called me after seeing me play at the Goat. Our families have known each other for years. One thing led to another, and I became a permanent member. They’ve even recorded a couple of my songs. Now, it’s all over. They’ll replace me, and that will be that.”

“What happens if you don’t meet the requirements?” Keltie asked.

“We lose everything. Not only me. My brothers and sister too.”

She winced. “That’s harsh.”

The weight of the day crashed over me. “The thing is, it’s not only about us. The ranch supports families who have worked for us for decades.”

“A lot of pressure,” Keltie said softly.

“No more than running a bar and caring for a sick child on your own,” I countered, immediately regretting bringing up Luna’s illness when her expression tightened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have?—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted. “It’s not like I can ignore it. The appointment is set for December 30.”

I wanted to ask more—about what else the doctor had said—but her exhaustion was evident in the circles beneath her eyes and the slump of her shoulders.

“Anyway, it’s getting late.”

She covered her mouth when she yawned. “Thank you for telling me all this. I feel like I understand your family better now.”

“There’s more, but we’ve got time.” The words slipped out before I could consider their implications—that I was assuming we’d have more nights like this, more conversations by the fire.

Keltie didn’t seem to mind. She smiled, and the warmth of it reached her eyes. “I’d like that.”

I stood, reluctant to leave but knowing I should. “Good night, Keltie. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Holt,” she replied with a sleepy smile that made my heart thud against my ribs.

I paused at the door, looking back at her silhouette against the firelight. Something about the image burned itself into my memory—Keltie curled on the sofa in the home where I’d grown up, as if she belonged there. As if she’d always belonged here.

The thought should have scared me. Instead, it felt right in a way I couldn’t explain.

I closed the door to her suite quietly behind me, stepping into the dimly lit hallway and imagining Luna asleep in that big old bed.

Her dark curls—so like her mother’s—would be spread across the pillow.

I squeezed my eyes closed when the same feeling that had hit me when I first met her washed over me again.

Now, I knew there was something wrong. I also knew I’d do everything I could to help her and her mom.

As I silently made my way into the great room, where Buck and Cord were sitting by the fireplace, each with whiskey in hand, troubling emotions churned in my gut.

“Thought you’d left,” Buck said, raising his glass in greeting.

“Was about to.” I dropped into the armchair across from them. “Just saying good night to Keltie first.”

Cord exchanged a look with Buck, a small smile playing on his lips. “She seems nice. Luna, too.”

“They are,” I said, feeling inexplicably uncomfortable under my brothers’ scrutiny.

Buck pushed the bottle of whiskey toward me. “Everything okay? You seem thoughtful.”

I grabbed an empty glass from the sideboard, poured two fingers, and swirled the hazy liquid before taking a sip. The familiar burn grounded me as I considered Buck’s question. “Just thinking about something Keltie said. About how these codicils from the trust led each of you to find happiness.”

Buck’s eyebrows rose. “You told her about the trust?”

“Not everything.”

“Huh.” He stroked his beard. “She’s not wrong, though. If it weren’t for the trust, I doubt TJ and I would’ve ended up together.”

“That’s nothing,” Cord added. “I never would’ve even met Juni.”

I ran a hand over my face, exhaustion mingling with the uncomfortable realization that maybe there’d be more to it for me too. “Why Crested Butte, though? I’m already here.”

“But you were about to leave,” Buck pointed out. “Maybe that’s the point.”

“Maybe it’s not about the place,” Cord added. “Maybe it’s about what—or who—you’d find if you stayed.”

I set my glass down harder than I’d intended. “Don’t start with that. Keltie and I barely know each other.”

“And yet you invited her and Luna for Christmas,” Cord said with a knowing smile. “Carried Luna to bed like you’ve been doing it for years.”

“It’s not like that,” I protested, though something inside me wondered if it could be.

“Then, what is it like?” Buck asked. “Because I’ve seen the way you look at her, little brother. And I saw how you were with Luna today. That didn’t come from nowhere.”

I stared into my whiskey, not ready to voice the feelings swirling inside me. “She’s going through a tough time. Luna’s sick—maybe seriously. They needed something good for Christmas. Plus, it wasn’t my idea to invite them. It was Sam’s.”

“You never know. Maybe by next Christmas, you and Keltie will be married too,” said Cord.

I downed the rest of my whiskey in one swallow. “That’s a serious stretch, man.”

Cord laughed. “All I’m saying is it happened to me. And, honestly? I never dreamed marriage could be like this.”

“Speaking of,” Buck said, checking his watch, “I should head home. Santa has some assembling to do before morning.”

“And I promised Juni I wouldn’t be long,” Cord added, standing. “You coming, Holt?”

I shook my head. “Think I’ll crash in my old room tonight.”

My brothers nodded, and I watched them go, their quiet conversation fading as they walked out the front door.

Buck and TJ had rehabbed the original homestead that sat closer to the ranch’s main gate. Cord and Juni were building a place at the highest point of our property. When it was finished, the views from there would be unbelievable. For now, though, they were still living in a cabin near mine.

I remained by the fire a while longer, letting the embers burn down as I contemplated everything that had happened, including Six-pack delivering the news of my stipulation.

The missed opportunity with CB Rice. The night at the Goat, when I’d met Luna.

The hospital visit. And now, Christmas Eve with Keltie and her daughter, as if they’d always been part of our family celebrations.

When the fire had dimmed to glowing coals, I finally made my way down the hall. My old bedroom looked different now—Flynn had redecorated, replacing the old furniture with pieces that somehow managed to erase the memories of our father while preserving the character of the house.

A framed photo on the dresser caught my eye—the five of us Wheaton siblings, taken the last Christmas our mother was still alive. We’d been through so much in the years since.

And yet, here we were. Survivors. A family, despite everything.

I stripped down to my boxers and crawled under the covers, my mind still churning with thoughts of the trust, CB Rice, and most persistently, Keltie. Her warm eyes. Her resilient spirit. The fierce love she had for her daughter.

The house settled around me, creaking in the cold as it had since I was a child. I’d always found the sound comforting—a reminder that some things remained constant, even as life changed around them.

Just as sleep began to pull me under, a sound from the other room caught my attention. Soft, muffled sobbing.

I sat up, instantly alert—someone was crying. Not someone, Keltie.

For a long moment, I remained frozen on the edge of the bed, torn between respecting her privacy and the overwhelming urge to comfort her.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled on my jeans and T-shirt and moved to the door.

The soft weeping continued, breaking something inside me with each gasping breath I heard.

I stood there, hand raised, heart hammering in my chest, trying to decide whether or not to knock.