Page 11 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

KELTIE

L una called for me, her voice growing fainter as I ran through sterile corridors. Each turn revealed her briefly—small in a hospital bed that seemed to move farther away no matter how fast I ran.

“Mommy!” Her voice echoed. “Where are you?”

“I’m coming!” I tried to call, but my words died in my throat.

The corridor stretched before me as her cries faded to silence.

For a moment, disorientation gripped me as I stared at the unfamiliar surroundings—the high wooden beams of the ceiling, the heavy curtains framing windows that looked out onto snow-covered mountains.

Then reality hit me. The Wheatons’ ranch. Christmas Eve.

My hand instinctively reached beside me for Luna, panic rising until my fingers brushed against her warm skin. She slept peacefully, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly to her. I touched her forehead. No fever, thank God.

My chest was still tight with lingering fear as I slumped against the pillows. Sleep wouldn’t come easily, not with my mind racing and the remnants of the dream clinging to me like cobwebs.

I slipped from beneath the covers, trying not to disturb Luna.

In the adjoining bathroom, I found a plush robe hanging on a hook and wrapped it around myself, grateful for its warmth.

I tiptoed across the room, casting one more glance at my sleeping daughter before quietly closing the bedroom door behind me.

The sitting room where Holt and I had talked earlier still held the dying embers of our fire, and moonlight streamed through the windows. I added a small log from the neatly stacked pile beside the hearth and watched as the flames grew.

Curling up on the sofa, I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to quiet my mind. Luna’s appointment in Denver looked over me like a shadow, the weight of the potential diagnoses and mounting medical bills crushing against my chest.

The tears started without warning—silent at first, then building to quiet sobs that shook my shoulders.

I pressed my face against my knees, trying to muffle the sound.

The days leading up to Christmas had always been Luna’s and my time together.

The two of us would decorate our small Albuquerque apartment with paper snowflakes we’d cut together and the tiny artificial tree that sat on our coffee table. Simple but happy.

This year should have been special too—our first Christmas in our new home. Instead, here we were, at the Wheaton ranch, surrounded by a family that wasn’t ours while I tried to hold myself together for Luna’s sake.

And yet, watching her with the other children earlier—that infectious joy as she played with Buckaroo and the twins—I couldn’t deny she was happier here than she would’ve been in our quiet house.

The Wheaton family had welcomed us with open arms, treating Luna like she’d always been part of their holiday tradition.

My thoughts drifted to Holt—his gentle patience with my daughter, the way he’d held me in the hospital parking lot, asking nothing but giving everything I needed at that moment.

I barely knew him, yet I found myself wishing he were here now, his strong arms around me, telling me everything would be okay.

A movement in the doorway caught my eye, and I looked up through tear-blurred eyes.

Holt stood there, hesitant, concern etched on his face.

For a moment, I wondered if I’d conjured him from my thoughts—a figment of my imagination.

I wiped my eyes and blinked hard, but he remained.

He wore a T-shirt and jeans, his dark hair mussed from sleep.

“I heard…” he said, taking a tentative step forward.

“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly wiping away my tears. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I was still up.” He paused, uncertain. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

I should have sent him away, maintained the distance I’d built around Luna and myself for years. Instead, I found myself telling him I was glad he was here.

The relief in his eyes as he crossed the room sent a fresh wave of emotion through me. He sat beside me on the sofa, close enough for me to feel his warmth but not touching me.

“Nightmare?” he asked quietly.

“About Luna. In a hospital. I couldn’t reach her.”

Holt’s arm slipped around my shoulders, the gesture so natural that I easily leaned into him. “She’s safe,” he murmured. “You both are.”

I rested my head against his shoulder, allowing myself to accept the comfort he offered. We sat in silence for several minutes. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and my quiet sobs filling the room.

“I’m scared.” I finally whispered the words I hadn’t allowed myself to say to anyone else.

His arm tightened around me.

“What if she has…?” I couldn’t bring myself to utter the word.

“Hey,” he interrupted gently. “One step at a time, okay?”

I drew a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be leaning on you like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m supposed to be strong. Independent. That’s who I’ve always been.”

Holt was quiet for a moment. “Being strong doesn’t mean carrying everything alone.”

“Doesn’t it?” I laughed bitterly. “That’s exactly what it’s meant since Luna was born. Her father walked away before she took her first breath.”

“I won’t walk away, Keltie,” he said simply. “I’ll be with you as much as you want me to be.”

“Why would you do this for people who just came into your life?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t feel that way to me. It seems like, I don’t know, more.”

The words settled over me, resonating in ways I couldn’t explain. “I know what you mean.”

I told him how my father had helped after Luna was born, but moving to Crested Butte meant leaving that support system behind. How I’d struggled to balance single parenthood with running the Goat, even before Luna’s health took a turn for the worse.

“When I first met her,” Holt said quietly, “I felt something I can’t explain. A closeness. Like I was supposed to be in her life. Like she’d need me.”

I studied him. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said, I can’t explain it. All I know is that I’ve had feelings like this since I was a kid. The first was when I knew my mother was sick before anyone admitted it.”

“Is that what happened with Luna? You sensed something was wrong?”

His somber expression reminded me of the way Mrs. Lopez had described his reaction—how odd it had been.

“That’s why you came to the hospital,” I whispered.

“Partly,” he said. “But also because I knew you needed me.” Holt’s hand found mine, our fingers intertwining.

My eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to break whatever spell had formed between us in the quiet darkness.

“Stay with me?” I murmured, the words barely audible.

Holt shifted, adjusting his position so I could rest my head more comfortably on his shoulder. The last thing I remembered before sleep claimed me was the gentle stroke of his hand through my hair and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear.

“Mommy! Mr. Wheaton! It’s Christmas and Santa came! I know he did!”

Luna’s excited voice pulled me from a deep sleep.

Disorientation hit me as I blinked awake to find myself still on the sofa, Holt’s arm around me, both of us covered with a blanket I didn’t remember retrieving.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, and Luna stood before us, bouncing with excitement, not at all confused by the sight of her mother curled up with a man she barely knew.

Heat rushed to my face as I extracted myself from Holt’s embrace, realizing how this must look. But Holt transitioned smoothly, stretching as if waking up on the sofa with me was the most natural thing in the world.

“Merry Christmas, Luna.” His voice was raspy. “Did you say something about presents?”

Luna shifted on her feet, her curls bouncing. “I’m sorry, Mommy, but I peeked. There’s a HUGE pile under the tree.”

“It’s okay, Luna-bug. I’m sorry I wasn’t next to you when you woke up.”

“There’s even stockings for both of us!”

“Somebody told me he also left you a big, fluffy robe and a pair of slippers in your bathroom. Why don’t you go check?” Holt suggested with a wink.

Luna needed no further encouragement, racing from the room with Bunny trailing from her hand.

I pushed my hair from my face, mortification setting in. “Holt, I?—”

“Don’t overthink this,” he said gently. “Neither of us planned to fall asleep here. It just happened.”

“But Luna?—”

“Doesn’t think anything of it,” he finished. “Kids that age don’t overthink things the way adults do.”

He was right, of course. Luna had been entirely focused on the Christmas morning, oblivious to any potential awkwardness.

“I should get dressed,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the bedroom. “Make myself presentable.”

His eyes traveled over me. “You look perfect to me.” Despite my disheveled state, I felt beautiful under his gaze. “But I know what you mean. I should probably change too. Meet you out there in fifteen? I doubt you can keep Luna waiting much longer than that.”

I watched as he stood and stretched, his T-shirt riding up to reveal a strip of tanned skin above his jeans. I quickly averted my eyes, but not before he caught me looking. His knowing smile followed me as I hurried toward the bedroom.

In the bathroom mirror, I confronted my reflection—flushed cheeks, wild curls, eyes still puffy from last night’s tears.

I splashed cold water on my face and attempted to do something with my hair before changing into the outfit I’d packed—jeans and a green sweater that Luna insisted was my “Christmas color.”