Page 25 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

HOLT

T he helicopter flight from Denver passed in a blur of mountains and snow, my thoughts never leaving the hospital room where I’d left Keltie and Luna.

When we touched down, Cord was waiting for me at the edge of the tarmac. “Good to see you, brother,” he said as I slid into the passenger seat of his truck. “Though I wish the circumstances were better.”

I stared through the windshield at the road ahead. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

As soon as we pulled onto the highway toward Crested Butte, I fished my phone from my pocket and dialed Keltie’s number. I needed to hear her voice, to know if anything had changed in the hour since I’d left.

She answered on the second ring. “Holt?”

“Hey,” I said softly. “Just landed. How’s she doing?”

“The same,” Keltie replied, her voice heavy with fatigue. “She’s still sleeping.”

“Has the doctor been in again?”

“No. Nothing’s changed since you left.” There was a pause. “I’m glad you called, though.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I promised, meeting Cord’s understanding glance.

“I know,” she said quietly.

“Is there anything I can bring with me?”

“Just yourself,” she answered. “That’s all we need.”

“How are you holding up?” I asked, pitching my voice lower.

Her pause said more than her words. “My dad’s been great. And it’s nice to have Sam and Beau here. But… never mind, I shouldn’t say it.”

“Not what we agreed on, darlin’. Whatever it is, say it.”

“I know you just left, but I still wish you were here. I also know that isn’t fair.”

“I’ll call again after I finish up at the Goat,” I promised.

“Be safe,” she said softly before hanging up.

When I put my phone away, Cord kept his eyes on the road, giving me a moment to collect myself.

“How is she?” he finally asked.

“It’s confirmed—leukemia,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “The doctors are moving quickly with the treatment.”

“God, man, I’m so sorry. Did they say how long she’ll need to stay in Denver?”

“A month. They’re focused on getting through the first phase of treatment.”

My cell rang, startling me, but when I looked at the screen, I saw it was Buck.

“Hey, we’re headed your way.”

“Good. Flynn’s got dinner ready at the main house. Everyone’s here.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah. Porter, Cici, and Maverick drove over from Morris Ranch.”

I didn’t like the thought of everyone gathered, waiting for news. “Don’t forget I have to play at the Goat tonight.”

“Right. I’m sure Flynn can make you a plate to go, unless you’d rather eat there.”

I’d rather not eat at all, to be honest. “I’ll grab my truck and swing by. I won’t be able to stay long, though.”

“Understood, brother.” The resignation in Buck’s voice echoed my own.

Twenty minutes later, I parked in front of the main house, my exhaustion hitting me all at once. Before I could even reach the porch, Flynn swung the door open and raced over to me.

“How is she?” she asked, pulling me into a hug.

“Not great.” My voice caught. “They’ve confirmed it’s cancer.”

Her arms tightened. “That poor little girl.”

Inside, the scene was exactly as I’d imagined—my siblings and their partners were gathered in the great room, their faces turning toward me as I entered. No one was sitting around the dining table, though, and the casual way they lounged made it seem less like an ambush.

“Here.” Buck handed me a shot of whiskey as I sank into one of the armchairs. “You look like you need it.”

I accepted the drink, swallowing it before facing their questioning looks.

“I wish to fucking hell I was there instead of here.”

Porter eased off the sofa and walked toward me. “Merry Christmas, Holt. Sorry I missed it. Guess I should say happy New Year, instead.” When we embraced, he held on extra long, and I appreciated it.

“What can we do?” TJ asked, sitting beside Buck on the sofa, their fingers interlaced.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. This is all new territory for me.”

“For both of you,” Flynn added gently.

My throat tightened, thinking of Keltie trying to process all this medical information alone, making decisions about her daughter’s care. I’d texted her again before coming inside, but she hadn’t responded yet.

“I need to be in Denver,” I said.

“But first, you need to play tonight,” said Porter. “And we all plan to be there.”

I lowered my gaze. “You don’t have to do that,” I said, even though I’d love to have them there for support.

“We’re goin’,” said Buck, sounding a little too much like Roscoe. When his eyes met mine, we both chuckled. “Fuck, I sound exactly like the ol’ bastard,” he muttered.

“At least you don’t look like him,” Porter added.

“Ain’t that the truth?” said Cord.

“What our brothers are dancing around,” Flynn said, “is that we’ve figured out a way for you to be with Keltie and Luna while still satisfying the trust requirements.”

“I talked to Beau. It isn’t an issue to have the helicopter bring you here, touch down, then you leave again,” said Cord.

“That’ll be mighty expensive.”

Cord’s eyebrows flashed. “As Beau said, there’s no better use of his money, and just so you aren’t worried about it, the guy’s a billionaire.”

“Again, I appreciate it, but I can’t let him do that.”

Flynn stepped closer and put her hand on my arm. “Look at it this way. He isn’t doing it for you. He’s doing it for Keltie and Luna.”

Their immediate willingness to help struck a chord in me, and I realized she was right. If it meant I could be there with them, I could damn well lower my pride and accept Beau’s offer. “Thank you,” I said, looking around the room. “All of you.”

“When are you heading back to Denver?” Buck asked.

“The day after tomorrow, if I can arrange it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Cord offered.

After a quick bite to eat, I drove myself to the Goat. As soon as I walked in, Miguel spotted me and lifted his chin in greeting. I made my way through the crowd toward him, acknowledging familiar faces but avoiding conversations.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” Miguel said as I approached. “We don’t usually have music on New Year’s Eve. We leave the shindigs to the resorts.”

“Good night for me to play, then,” I muttered. “How’s business been?”

“Steady. We can handle things here. Don’t worry about the bar.” His expression turned serious. “How’s Luna?”

“Holding up better than any of us. She’s a tough kid.”

“Good with me if you only do one set,” he offered. “No offense, man, but you look like shit.”

“I feel even worse.”

After getting my mic and speakers set up, I glanced around the room.

There were more familiar faces here than usual at this time of year.

Locals tended to only come out once the skiers left.

On the other hand, as Miguel said, the Goat wasn’t hosting an event tonight, so most everyone figured it would be quiet here.

I didn’t bother with my usual greeting. I simply began to play. I knew I’d need to mix in covers to keep the crowd happy, but I sure wasn’t in the mood for it.

The bar quieted for a couple of minutes, but then conversations picked up again.

I was happy not to have all eyes on me tonight.

When I finished the first couple of originals, I transitioned into old favorites that required little thought, allowing me to go through the motions while my mind remained in Denver.

Between sets, several locals tossed money in the tip jar. Plus, Stacey from McGill’s, Dave from the hardware store, Sheriff Kaleb, and Mrs. Winters from the elementary school all offered different kinds of help—watching the house, organizing fundraisers, and helping with the bar.

Their overwhelming support had me tearing up. “Thanks,” I managed.

Stacey handed me a small box. “This is for Luna. Coloring books, small toys. Stuff to keep her occupied in the hospital.”

“And this is for Keltie,” Dave added, passing me an envelope. “From folks around town. It’s not much, but it might help with expenses.”

My throat tightened at their generosity. While Crested Butte was my home, had been all my life, Keltie was a newcomer. That everyone cared so much about her and her daughter spoke volumes about how much of an impact they’d made on our small town in a very short amount of time.

I ended up playing my usual two sets, mainly because of how overflowing the tip jar was. I knew every penny was meant to help Keltie, and I sure appreciated it. My family contributed quite a bit too, including more than one hundred-dollar bill tossed in with the usual ones and fives.

Back at my cabin, I called Keltie. Her voice was heavy with exhaustion, but she shared that Luna was resting peacefully. When she mentioned that a representative from Miracles of Hope Children’s Charity would be visiting them, my attention sharpened immediately.

“That’s the charity named in my codicil,” I told her. “The one I have to donate to.”

“I forgot about that,” she said slowly.

“It’s too strange to be a coincidence,” I muttered. “There’s something going on here that I don’t understand yet.”

We talked for a few more minutes, both of us exhausted but reluctant to disconnect. We whispered how much we missed each other and finally said good night.

After we hung up, I found myself too restless to sleep despite my exhaustion. Damn, if that charity—the very one named in my codicil—didn’t keep popping up. Why? I pulled out my laptop and settled on the sofa to research more about the organization I was required to support.

Their website was professionally designed, with pages about their mission, programs, donation options, and a brief history.

I clicked on the “About Us” section, scanning for any clues that could explain why my inheritance and that of my siblings would all go to them should I fail to fulfill my part of the trust’s stipulations.

“Founded in 1993 by an anonymous donor,” I read aloud, “specifically to help children with leukemia and their families in the Crested Butte area.” That it mentioned the same disease Luna had fucking rattled me.

I pulled up the family tree, which Sam had updated and sent everyone. It was easier to check it than try to remember when we were all born. The year the charity was formed fell between Buck’s and Porter’s birthdays.

I dug deeper, looking for any mention of founding board members, but the site maintained their anonymity. The charity’s logo caught my attention—a scarlet blanket adorned with scattered stars. Something about it tugged at my memory, but I couldn’t place it.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge and lighting a fire in the hearth, I sat my ass on the sofa, knowing I should go to bed instead.

My eyes wandered to the built-in bookcases on either side of it.

I stood, walked over, and picked up the photo that was taken the Christmas before Mom died.

We all had copies of it. I carried it into the kitchen and flipped on the light, studying my mother’s face. Damn, I missed her.

Something else caught my eye that I’d never noticed before—the necklace she was wearing. I couldn’t see it well enough to pick up any detail, so I used the magnifying app on my phone to zoom in more.

“Fuck,” I practically yelled, almost dropping the picture and my cell.

I grabbed the chair nearest to me and fell in it as much as sat.

After blinking several times, I looked again, and sure enough, there it was.

The same pendant I’d seen in the window of the consignment shop next door to the toy store. The one I gave Keltie for Christmas.

Rather than get another beer, I opened the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, then grabbed a glass. I took them both and the photo over to the sofa.

I looked up at the beams above me. “What’s goin’ on, Mama? You visitin’ me in my dreams? Tryin’ to send me messages?” My eyes filled with tears that ran down my cheeks. “I wished you’d straight out tell me. I know this is all connected, but I can’t figure out how or why.”

After downing another shot, I grabbed my laptop again, scrolling back to the charity’s website to examine the logo more carefully.

The scarlet blanket with stars—why did it seem so familiar?

And then it hit me. I jumped off the sofa and picked up another frame.

The picture inside was of my mama holding me, wrapped in a scarlet blanket embroidered with tiny silver stars.

I remembered her using it when Flynn was born too.

When my phone rang at nine the next morning, I was still on the sofa, where I’d dozed off—passed out might be a better way to describe it. The caller ID showed Six-pack’s office.

“Wheaton,” I answered curtly.

“Holt,” Six-pack’s voice came through, unusually hesitant. “I need you to come in tomorrow. There’s something?—”

“I have questions,” I interrupted, the whiskey I’d consumed last night making my tongue feel thick and heavy. I cleared my throat. “About the trust and the Miracles of Hope charity.”

He paused. “What about them?”

“What’s the connection, Six-pack? And don’t you try to tell me there isn’t one,” I said.

“I can’t answer that, Holt.”

“Hey, here’s another one for you. The woman who owns the Goat—Keltie Marquez?

Guess what her daughter’s been diagnosed with.

Got nothin’?” I spat without giving him time to respond.

“Leukemia. I mean, hell, what are the odds? Oh, and the charity’s logo?

I had a baby blanket that looked a lot like it. ”

“Holt, I…”

“What, asshole? Spit it out. What games have you been playin’ with my family? With our lives?”

“It isn’t me.”

“Then, tell me who the fuck it is.” I was yelling now.

“I don’t know. That’s the God’s honest truth.”

“Cut the bullshit, Richard,” I snapped, using his real name for the first time in years. “I’m sick to death of you giving us the runaround.”

Another pause, longer this time. “When certain conditions are met, I’m given more information,” he said carefully.

“What conditions?” I demanded.

“I can’t say. But the trustee does have a message for you.” His tone shifted, becoming more formal. “If you could come to my office tomorrow morning?—”

“I’m needed in Denver,” I cut him off.

“This is important, Holt.”

“So are they,” I retorted. “Either tell me over the phone, or I’ll call you when I’m in Crested Butte again—within forty-eight hours, of course.”

“But—” Six-pack began.

I hung up, my patience gone. The phone immediately rang again. I stared at Six-pack’s name on the screen before sending it to voicemail.

Whatever the trustee wanted, it would have to wait. I had more important matters to attend to—a brave little girl fighting for her life and the woman I was falling in love with, who needed me by her side.