Page 23 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

KELTIE

T he emergency room at Gunnison Valley Hospital held the same stark intensity I remembered from our previous visit.

Luna lay, small and pale, on the gurney, her eyes glassy with fever as a nurse attached monitors to her chest. I stood frozen at her side, my hand clutching her too-warm fingers, while the medical staff moved around us.

Holt stood at the foot of the gurney, his face tight with worry. Every few moments, his eyes would meet mine across Luna’s small form, silent reassurance passing between us.

The doctor arrived a few minutes later, scanning Luna’s chart before examining her. “Her oxygen levels are good, but I don’t like this fever pattern,” he said, his brow furrowed as he listened to her chest.

Luna whimpered when he touched her abdomen, flinching away. “It hurts, Mommy.”

“I know, baby,” I whispered, brushing damp curls from her forehead. “The doctors are going to make it better.”

When he signaled for me to join him, Holt took my place at Luna’s side, distracting her with gentle questions about her stuffed animals.

“Her blood work from the other day remains concerning. With the addition of her struggling to breathe, combined with the recurring fevers and abdominal pain…” He paused, then put his hand on my shoulder.

“I’ve contacted Children’s Hospital. They’re sending their flight team to transport Luna immediately. ”

My legs nearly gave out. “Flight team? As in helicopter?”

“Yes. Given the urgency of her symptoms and the specialized care she needs, it’s the fastest way. They have a pediatric oncology team waiting.”

My stomach twisted with the acceptance that I could no longer put this off. “How soon?” I managed.

“The flight team should arrive within the hour. We’ll stabilize her here until then.”

I returned to Luna’s bedside, forcing myself to be calm and reassuring, even though I felt anything but. Holt looked up, reading the fear in my eyes instantly.

“Luna-bug, the nurses are going to give you medicine to help with the fever,” I explained, keeping my voice steady. “Then we’re going to take a special helicopter ride to another hospital in Denver.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “A real helicopter? Like on TV?”

“Just like on TV,” I confirmed, grateful for her excitement rather than fear.

Holt stepped away, phone in hand. I could hear fragments of his conversation with Buck—something about leaving his truck at the hospital.

“The emergency bag,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “Yeah, I gotta run and get it.” He paused. “Right. Thanks, man.” Another pause. “Yeah, I know about the forty-eight hours. I’ll figure it out.”

The mention of the forty-eight-hour stipulation limitation sent a chill through me. With everything happening so fast, I hadn’t considered what this meant for Holt. If he stayed with us in Denver beyond that time frame, what would he be risking?

Dr. Patel came in with a nurse who administered medication through Luna’s IV. Within minutes, her eyelids grew heavy.

“This will help her rest during the transfer,” he explained. “The flight team should be here at any moment.”

Holt approached with our bag.

“Listen, I know you can’t go with us?—”

His eyes bored into mine. “You’re not going without me. Understood?” When he pulled me into his arms, tears threatened, but I couldn’t cry now. Luna needed me to be strong, and if Holt was with us, I could be.

The flight crew arrived and transferred Luna to their stretcher. After a brief discussion about accommodations, the lead paramedic confirmed there was room for both Holt and me.

The journey took under an hour, but it felt equally endless and brief. Luna slept through it while I tried to process how quickly our world had changed.

By the time we touched down on the hospital’s helipad, the sun was setting over Denver. A team waited to receive us and whisked Luna directly to the pediatric oncology floor.

As they settled Luna into her room, I stepped into the hallway to call my father, my hands shaking as I dialed.

“Mija?” His voice answered, warm and familiar. “I was about to call you.”

“Dad,” I said, my voice breaking. “Luna’s sick. Really sick. We’re at Children’s Hospital in Denver.”

A beat of silence. “What happened?”

I explained everything—the emergency trip to Gunnison, the helicopter transfer, the oncology floor. “They haven’t confirmed anything yet, but they’re talking about cancer, Dad.”

“I’m leaving now,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll drive straight through.”

“Dad, it’s at least a five-hour drive?—”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he insisted. “Hold on, mija . I’m coming.”

When I returned to Luna’s room, a doctor was introducing herself to Holt. “I’m Dr. Robbins, the attending oncologist,” she said, extending her hand to me. “We need to run several tests, but based on the initial blood work, we want to do a bone marrow aspiration right away.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

She explained that she’d insert a needle near Luna’s hip and, essentially, extract a sample of her bone marrow.

“Will it hurt her?” My eyes filled with tears that I quickly brushed away.

She glanced at her watch. “When did she last eat?”

“Maybe two hours ago? She had ice cream before her fever spiked.”

“In that case, we’ll proceed with local anesthetic instead of sedation.

We don’t want to wait.” Dr. Robbins looked between Holt and me.

“Both parents can be in the room with her, but you’ll need to wear scrubs.

Since we’re not putting her under, it’ll help if you keep her distracted.

She won’t feel pain from the procedure, but she might be scared. ”

I opened my mouth to correct her assumption about Holt, but stopped. The technicality didn’t matter. What mattered was Luna having both of us with her.

“Let us know what we need to do,” Holt said without hesitation.

As Dr. Robbins left to prepare, Holt turned to me. “You don’t have to explain who I am or am not to her right now. This isn’t about paperwork or biology.”

Relief and gratitude washed over me. “Thank you.”

In the procedure room, Luna lay on her side while Holt distracted her with stories about Sparkles and magical butterflies.

His steady voice and animated storytelling kept her attention away from what the doctors were doing.

The procedure was quick, but watching that needle slide into my daughter’s hip was one of the most difficult things I’d ever endured.

Without Holt there, I’m not sure I could have maintained my composure.

Once in her room, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with my little girl. She fell asleep clutching Bunny. Thankfully, the antibiotics and fever reducers had brought her temperature down.

I watched her sleep, the weight of what might be coming pressing on my chest until I could barely breathe. A strangled sound escaped me—not quite a sob, but close.

Warm arms wrapped around me from behind, turning me gently until my face was pressed against Holt’s chest. He led me outside the door, holding me tightly. Only then did I let go, tears soaking his shirt as I clung to him.

“What if—” I couldn’t finish the thought.

“Shh,” he murmured against my hair. “We’ll handle each challenge as it comes.”

I breathed in the scent of him, letting it anchor me in the moment.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here,” I whispered.

His arms tightened around me. “You’d be just as strong, just as brave.”

We stayed that way until a nurse stepped around us on her way into the room to check Luna’s vitals. After she had, she adjusted her IV and slipped out again.

It was close to eleven when my father arrived. I spotted him in the doorway of Luna’s room. His eyes moved from her sleeping form to me, and in that moment, I was five years old again, running to him with a scraped knee.

“Papa,” I whispered, crossing the room to fall into his arms.

“Oh, Keltie,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. He held me tightly before releasing me to approach Luna’s bedside. The sight of his vibrant granddaughter pale against the hospital sheets seemed to age him a decade in seconds.

“She’s been sleeping peacefully,” I said softly. “Her fever’s down.”

My dad gently touched Luna’s curls at the same time Holt rose from the chair in the corner.

My father turned and extended his hand. “Victor Marquez.”

“Holt Wheaton. Good to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Abuelo?” Luna’s sleepy voice interrupted the moment. Her eyes brightened when she spotted my father. “You came!”

Dad’s face transformed into a smile. “Of course I did, mi corazón . Nothing could keep me away.”

Luna smiled at both men. “Mr. Holt was telling me about unicorns talking to butterflies,” she told her grandfather.

“Is that so?” Dad raised a brow at Holt, who shrugged with a sheepish smile.

“They had interesting conversations,” Holt confirmed seriously. “These were very philosophical butterflies.”

Luna giggled, the sound so normal, so precious, that tears pricked my eyes again.

The overnight hours passed, with nurses and doctors coming to check on my daughter. She remained remarkably resilient, perking up whenever Holt or my father entertained her, then dozing when the exhaustion overwhelmed her.

Around eight the next morning, the unit secretary appeared in the doorway. “Dr. Robbins would like to speak with Luna’s parents.”

My heart stuttered. The results.

Holt stood immediately, but hesitated, looking at my father.

“I’ll stay with Luna,” my dad offered. “She’ll be more comfortable with me here.”

Surprise flickered across Holt’s face, followed by gratitude.

Dr. Robbins was waiting in a small consultation room, a folder in her hands. Her expression was guarded as we entered, but something in her eyes told me what was coming.

“Please, sit,” she said, gesturing to the chairs across from her. “I have Luna’s test results.”

I gripped Holt’s hand, his fingers interlacing with mine as we sat.