Page 26 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

KELTIE

T he constant beep of Luna’s heart monitor provided a steady backdrop to our new reality.

I’d memorized every detail of her hospital room in the three days we’d been here—the faded blue curtains that never fully blocked the hall light, the squeaky hinge on the bathroom door, and the way the third ceiling tile from the window had a water stain shaped like Texas.

My father dozed in the recliner near Luna’s bed, his head tilted at an angle that would guarantee neck pain when he woke. Sam had left to grab lunch for all of us, insisting we needed to eat something other than vending-machine snacks.

I stretched my stiff muscles and checked my phone. Holt had texted that he’d be here this afternoon. The empty space he’d left behind was startling in its intensity, considering how recently he’d entered our lives.

“Mommy?” Luna’s voice was small but clear. I moved to her side in an instant.

“I’m here, baby. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she replied, her eyes sleepy, but alert. “When can we go home?”

“Soon,” I promised, the word intentionally vague. “The doctors are helping you get better.”

My father stirred at the sound of our voices. “There’s my corazón ,” he said, leaning forward to take Luna’s hand. “Would you like to hear more stories about when your mama was little?”

A soft knock interrupted us, and Dr. Robbins entered with a nurse I hadn’t met before, who motioned for me to join them.

“How are you doing?” the doctor asked.

“As well as can be expected.”

“We’ll be starting Luna’s first chemotherapy session tomorrow morning,” she said gently. “But before we discuss that further, there’s someone here to meet you.” She gestured to a woman waiting behind her. “This is Echo West from the Miracles of Hope Children’s Charity.”

The woman who stepped forward was slim, with an elegant bearing. Her long gray hair was pulled back, and her green eyes held a depth of compassion that felt genuine.

“Ms. Marquez,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m so sorry about Luna’s diagnosis. I’d like to talk with you about how our organization can help.”

“Um, sure, thanks,” I stammered, attempting to steady my voice. I stuck my head in the room. “Dad, do you mind staying with Luna while I speak with Ms. West?”

My father waved me off, already launching into another story.

“This way, and please call me Echo,” the woman said, leading me to the same private room where Holt and I had met with Dr. Robbins the first time.

Once seated, with the door closed, she placed a folder on the table between us. “Miracles of Hope was created specifically to help families like yours,” she explained. “Children who live in the Crested Butte area and have been diagnosed with certain kinds of blood cancers.”

“That’s… very specific,” I commented, thinking of what Holt had mentioned about the charity being named in his trust.

“We’ve since branched out to help families facing other illnesses, but the organization was founded by a mother who lost her child to the disease. She wanted to ensure no family had to face a financial burden on top of an emotional one.”

Something about Echo seemed familiar, though I couldn’t place where from. Her features, the cadence of her speech—maybe she’d been into the Goat.

“Our organization will take care of most of Luna’s medical costs that are above what insurance covers,” she continued, sliding the paperwork toward me.

I stared at the papers, unable to process what she was saying. “Most of the costs?” I repeated, my voice barely audible.

“In my experience, we cover everything your insurance doesn’t take care of, along with things like lodging, meals, and transportation,” Echo clarified.

Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them.

The weight that had been crushing my chest since we’d arrived at the hospital lightened.

I’d been calculating and recalculating our finances, wondering how I’d keep the Goat open while caring for Luna or how I’d pay for the medical care that could stretch into years.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.

She smiled gently. “You don’t need to say anything. This is exactly why we exist.”

There was a knock at the door, and before I could stand to open it, Holt stuck his head inside. His appearance sent a wave of comfort through me so strong it nearly made me dizzy.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, stepping into the room. “Dr. Robbins said you were in a meeting with the representative from the charity.”

“It’s fine,” I said, gesturing for him to join us. “This is Echo West from the Miracles of Hope Children’s Charity. Echo, this is Holt Wheaton.”

Holt extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. Thank you for what you’re doing for Keltie and Luna.”

Echo shook his hand. “Do you have any connection to the Roaring Fork Ranch?”

“It’s my family’s place,” Holt replied. “We’ve owned it for generations.”

“My son Kingston works there,” Echo said, a mother’s pride evident in her voice. “He’s the ranch manager.”

Holt’s expression brightened with recognition. “Bridger? He’s a great guy. And a hell of a musician too, or so I’ve heard. Err, but not from him.”

“That’s my son,” Echo smiled. “He’s always been more comfortable with horses than people.”

“Well, he’s respected by everyone at the ranch,” Holt assured her. “Has been since he started three years ago.”

There was a moment of silence before Echo looked at me. “Do you have any other questions about the assistance we provide?”

I glanced at the paperwork, still overwhelmed by their generosity. “No, I think you’ve covered everything. Thank you doesn’t seem adequate, but it’s all I can come up with at the moment.”

“I have a question, if you don’t mind,” said Holt, leaning forward. “It might seem odd, but are you aware of any connection between your organization and our ranch, specifically?”

Echo’s brow furrowed. “Nothing comes to mind. Why do you ask?”

Holt shrugged, his tone deliberately casual. “It’s probably nothing. Just that the blanket in your logo—I used to have one exactly like it as a kid. Never seen another one.”

Echo looked genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry. I don’t know of any connection.” She paused thoughtfully. “What I can tell you is that the charity’s original name was Scarlett’s Hope, if that means anything to you.”

Holt shook his head.

“After the founder passed away,” Echo continued, “the board decided to make the name more inclusive. We’d heard so often that we worked miracles for families that we chose Miracles of Hope.”

“I see,” Holt said, though I could tell from the set of his shoulders that there was more to his question than idle interest.

We finished reviewing the paperwork, and I signed where indicated. Echo promised to contact me the following day with more information about support groups for families.

After she left, Holt turned to me. “How are you holding up?”

“Better now,” I admitted. “The financial help is… I can’t even process it.” I sighed. “Luna will receive the first round of drugs tomorrow, and that brings a whole new set of worries.”

He took my hand, his thumb moving gently across my skin. His touch alone brought me so much comfort. “Come here,” he said, pulling me over to his lap. “A little bird told me you needed a hug.”

“I’d ask if it was Luna, but then you would’ve said unicorn instead of bird.” We both smiled, and I snuggled closer to him. “I don’t know how to thank you for your support, Holt.”

“I’m here, Keltie, for you and Luna. Whatever you need.”

“Speaking of my daughter, she asks about you at least once an hour.”

“Then, I better go let her know I’m here.” Before he released me, he brushed my lips with his. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

We walked to Luna’s room together. My father had fallen asleep again, and Luna was watching cartoons with the sound turned low.

“Mr. Holt!” Her face brightened. “Did you see my pictures?” She pointed to several drawings taped to the wall beside her.

“I did,” he said, sitting on the edge of her bed and examining them. “These are amazing. Is this the mountain behind our ranch?”

“Sam gave me crayons. I’m drawing all the places I want to visit when I’m better.”

“That’s a great idea,” Holt said, studying a particularly colorful creation. “And what’s this one?”

“That’s a recording studio,” Luna explained, her voice growing animated. “Mommy told me she used to work in one, and that’s where you make music. I want to see one someday.”

As Holt and Luna discussed her artistic rendition of a mixing board—which looked more like a spaceship’s control panel—Dr. Robbins stuck her head in the room.

“Keltie, if you have another moment,” she said.

While I was reluctant to take Holt away from Luna, I needed his support. “Sweetheart, Mommy needs Mr. Holt’s opinion about something, but we won’t be too long, okay?”

Luna frowned, but it was quickly replaced with a smile. “I thought of somewhere else I want to go. I’ll draw it while you’re gone.”

“I’ve never met anyone with her kind of resilience,” Holt said once we were outside the room.

“Part of it is she’s too young to truly understand what’s going on. It’s my fault for not explaining it better.”

Dr. Robbins put her hand on my arm. “I will help when it comes time to broach specifics with your daughter. Ms. West also offered to be here again tomorrow if needed.”

My eyes filled with tears. “Everyone has been so kind?—”

Holt put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him. He had no idea how much his strength did for me. How it gave me what I needed to keep going.

“We’ve already discussed Luna’s treatment protocol,” Dr. Robbins said as we settled into the consultation room. “But there’s something important we need to address now.” She rested her arms on the table. “In Luna’s case, a bone marrow transplant might be beneficial.”

My pulse faltered. “A transplant?”