Page 30 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

I didn’t say “good” out loud, but I sure felt relief she hadn’t.

“But I asked him if he was going to marry you. Actually, when.”

I stretched out beside her and gathered her in my arms. “One day at a time,” I whispered.

That was where and how Holt found us later.

“Sorry I woke you,” he whispered. “I wanted to let you know I’m headed over to the Goat.”

“I’ll go with you.” I eased out from under Luna. “Mind if we run out for a few minutes?” I said to my father, who was unpacking the groceries Holt had delivered. “We won’t be long.”

He waved his hand without looking up. “Go. We’re fine here.”

When we arrived at the bar, it appeared empty from outside. Inside, the after-work crowd huddled at the bar while Miguel cleaned and stocked glasses. Faces turned when I entered, conversations halting mid sentence.

“Keltie.” Miguel abandoned his towel, moving around the bar to hug me.

“How can I ever thank you?” I asked, surveying how amazing the place looked.

He shrugged. “You’d do it for any of us.”

I walked through the familiar space, noting things I’d never paid attention to before—the way the light hit the shelves filled with bottles and the worn path in the hardwood from the entrance to the bathrooms. My space. My territory.

A large poster near the stage caught my eye. “Valentine’s Day Benefit,” it read in bold type across the top. Luna’s name was underneath in smaller letters, followed by “Crested Butte’s Fierce Fighter.” Local band names filled the lower third, with “Headliner: TBA” prominent at the center.

I stood motionless, fingers hovering near the paper without touching it.

“Flynn’s work,” Miguel said, coming to stand beside Holt and me. “The amphitheater agreed to host. Restaurants are covering the food. Tickets go on sale tomorrow.”

“This is—” Words failed me again as my fingertips traced Luna’s name.

Holt wrapped his arm around my shoulders when Miguel went behind the bar. “I’ll get set up to play tonight unless there’s something else you need me to do.”

“One thing,” I responded.

“Name it.”

I took his hand and let him to the office. “Easier to show you,” I said, closing the door behind us once we were inside. As if he’d read my mind, his hands found my face, he cupped my jawline, and his mouth met mine hard.

My body responded instantly, my fingers weaving in his hair, pulling him closer. The sense of urgency I felt surprised me, but I couldn’t let go of him. I looked into his eyes. “Stay with me tonight?”

“You know I will, Keltie.”

“I mean in my bed.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

A sharp knock interrupted us, and Holt moved away reluctantly, opening the door to Miguel’s apologetic face.

“Sorry. Something you need to see.” He pointed toward a cluster of people hunched over a phone at the bar.

We followed, curious. A regular—Dave or Dan, I could never remember—held his cell up as we approached.

“Look at this.”

The screen showed a social media post from Ben, saying CB Rice would be headlining Luna’s benefit concert.

“Did you know?” I turned to Holt, searching his face.

He looked genuinely surprised. “No. He didn’t mention anything.”

“We’ll sell out in an hour,” Miguel predicted, scrolling through the comments that were posting faster than we could read them.

My brain struggled to process the information. CB Rice played arenas, not small-town benefits. Seconds later, the front door banged open. Stacey from McGill’s burst in, clutching her phone like a winning lottery ticket.

“Have you seen?” Her words tumbled out. “Everyone’s talking about it!”

“Just now,” I managed.

“That’s not all,” she continued breathlessly. “Tickets went on sale four minutes ago. It’s already sold out, and I heard Ben suggested adding a second night.”

“Told you,” said Miguel with a broad smile.

Holt’s hand found the small of my back, steadying me.

“We’re doing a raffle,” Stacey added. “Hardware store’s giving a generator. Ski resort donated season passes. We’ve got slope-side condos, other vacation packages, and gift certificates from everywhere from here to Salida. The list keeps growing.”

My throat constricted. “Why would everyone?—”

“Because we take care of our own,” she said simply. “Gotta run. More calls to make!” She vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

Holt squeezed my shoulder. “I need to get started,” he said, but instead of heading straight to the stage, he guided me to a quieter corner near the office. “You okay?”

“Processing,” I admitted. “It’s a lot.”

His thumb brushed my cheek, coming away damp. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

When he finally moved toward the stage, I took a seat at the bar. Miguel slid water toward me without asking. The room quieted as Holt adjusted his microphone and tuned his guitar.

“Hey, everybody,” he said, his voice filling the space. “For those who don’t know, Luna came home today.” He paused, fingers hovering over the strings. “I wrote this song for her and her mama, but it seems fitting that I play it for the first time tonight.”

I turned around to face him, barely breathing as he played the opening cords then started to sing.

The song told of a unicorn with healing powers who got sick herself.

It spoke of stars and invisible strength, of darkness that couldn’t extinguish certain kinds of light.

He’d transformed Luna’s ordeal—the needles, the machines, the fear—into something a child could grasp without terror.

Tears came freely now as he sang the final verse, his eyes finding mine across the room. Through the worst moments of my life, Holt had remained steady. He’d made Luna laugh when nothing else could. He’d become part of our little family.

The music faded, and applause filled the silence. I sat motionless, aware that tomorrow would bring medication schedules, doctor follow-ups, and everything to do with illness management. But tonight, in this moment, I felt more than fear and uncertainty. I felt hope.

Holt’s gaze held mine across the room, a question in his eyes I couldn’t answer aloud yet. As he began his next song, I didn’t look away. Somehow, I knew he understood.

I stayed another hour, letting the bar’s familiar rhythms wash over me. Finally, gathering my resolve, I said good night to Miguel, waved to Holt, and headed home.

I found my father and Luna hidden in a blanket fort that took up half the living room. Flashlights illuminated their faces from below as they read from one of her books.

“Mommy!” Luna called. “Come sit in our fort!”

I crawled through the makeshift entrance, careful not to dislodge the chair supporting one corner.

“Quite an engineering feat,” I said, settling beside them.

“We could sleep here tonight,” Luna suggested, eyes bright.

My father shrugged. “My spine says no, but don’t let that stop you two.”

“We’ll see,” I hedged. The floor’s appeal had diminished significantly after weeks of hospital chair sleeping. Not to mention, I had every intention of holding my body close to Holt’s tonight, and not even my beloved daughter’s pleading could get me to abandon that plan.

We spent the evening in that cloth cave, my father recounting embarrassing stories from my childhood that made Luna demand more. I had to wonder how many were actually true. Laughter filled our house again, something I’d feared might be a long time coming.

By the time Holt texted he was on his way over, I’d already carried my sleeping daughter up the stairs and put her to sleep in her bed.

“Hey,” I said, opening the door to let him in.

My father stretched his arms over his head. “Calling it a night. These old bones weren’t meant for floor sitting.” He clasped Holt’s shoulder as he passed. “Good night.”

“Night,” we echoed.

Alone finally, Holt eliminated the space between us. “About the song…”

“It was perfect,” I said, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw. “She’ll love hearing it.”

His hands found my waist, drawing me closer. “I wrote it for both of you.”

I rose on tiptoe, pressing my mouth to his. When we separated, I rested against him, listening to the rhythm of his heart.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I whispered.

“Holt, there’s something I need to tell you.”

While he looked like he was about to drift to sleep, his eyes opened wide.

“I, um, well, the thing is…” I stammered.

He put his fingertip on my lips. “Let me go first.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Keltie.”

My eyes filled with tears. “I love you, Holt.”