Page 39 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

HOLT

T he small headstone remained fixed in my mind as I woke in Keltie’s bed the next morning.

My sister Scarlett—a whisper from the past that now haunted me in the most unexpected ways.

The early sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft patterns across the room where I’d spent the night holding the love of my life close.

I turned to find her already awake, watching me with solemn eyes.

“I think we should meet with Six-pack today,” I said quietly, reaching out to brush a curl from her face. “After the family meeting at the ranch. He could refer a custody attorney, help us prepare for whatever Remi might try.”

Keltie’s fingers laced with mine. “Good idea. I spoke with my dad this morning. He’s taking Luna to the park again.”

“She’s feeling up to it?”

“She seems better than ever,” she said, a smile finally breaking through the worry. “The resilience of children is incredible.”

The sound of small feet racing down the hallway interrupted us. Luna appeared in the doorway, still in her pajamas.

“Mr. Holt! You’re here!” She launched herself onto the bed, wiggling between us. “Are we having pancakes? Abuelo makes the best pancakes.”

“Is that so? I thought your Mommy made the best ones.” I said, tickling her side and grinning as she squirmed.

“She makes the best ones with blueberries .”

Behind her, Keltie rolled her eyes.

“Ah, right,” I murmured, winking.

The smell of coffee lured us to the kitchen, where Victor was already at the stove, pouring batter on the skillet.

“Buenos días,” he said. “Sleep well?”

“Very,” I replied, accepting the mug he offered.

After breakfast and quick showers, Keltie and I got ready for the day. I’d brought a change of clothes when I came over yesterday, anticipating I might stay the night.

“I’ll change, and then we can go,” I said to Keltie.

Luna tugged at my jeans as I headed toward the stairs. “You’re coming back, right?”

“Of course,” I promised, kneeling to her level. “Five minutes. Max.”

She shook her head. “I mean later.”

“If there’s ever a day, I can’t, I’ll tell you, okay? Otherwise, you can expect to fall asleep with me here and wake up to me too.”

She beamed and followed Keltie and me up the stairs.

“Still nothing from Remi?” I asked quietly when we came back down.

“No,” Keltie replied, sliding the phone into her pocket. “I don’t understand. I thought after seeing Luna…”

“Hard to say what he’s thinking.” My words weren’t as reassuring as I intended them to be, but with a guy like Remi, it was impossible to predict what he’d do.

After we’d said goodbye to Luna and Victor, Keltie and I headed to the ranch. The pressure of her hand resting on my thigh steadied me, reminding me once again that whatever came next, we’d face it together. Her for me and me for her.

I glanced at my watch. “When do you expect Six-pack to arrive?” I asked once we joined everyone in the living room of the main house, where they were gathered.

While Flynn and Irish had taken down the Christmas tree a while ago, memories of those happy, magical days lingered in the place where Keltie and I had gotten to know each other beyond a bar owner and guitar player.

“Any minute,” Buck said, checking his phone.

Flynn stiffened at the mention of our attorney, and I understood why. She was the only one who hadn’t received a codicil yet. The fear that she might be forced to leave her husband and twin boys was evident in her eyes, though unspoken.

“Hello, everyone.” Six-pack entered with his usual smug expression, briefcase clutched in his manicured hand.

“Let’s get on with it,” Buck said, foregoing any pleasantries.

“I wanted to touch base with you all about the recent developments with the trust,” he said, opening his briefcase on the coffee table. His eyes swept across the room. “As I understand it, you’ve discovered information about a previously unknown sister, Scarlett Blanche Wheaton.”

“That’s right,” I said, my voice harder than intended. “And the connection to Miracles of Hope Children’s Charity.”

“Which still doesn’t tell us who’s behind the trust,” Cord added.

“As I’ve said more than once, until the trustee chooses to reveal themselves, there’s nothing more I can do. I’m simply the messenger.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you have no idea who it is?” Porter’s skepticism was evident.

“I’ve told you repeatedly that I don’t,” Six-pack insisted. “My instructions arrive anonymously. I’ve never met or spoken with the trustee directly.”

“Convenient,” Buck muttered.

Six-pack straightened his tie. “I should also remind everyone that Holt’s year doesn’t end until December 23, and there is still one sibling who hasn’t been required to fulfill any stipulations.”

Flynn visibly tensed, and Irish’s arm immediately wrapped around her shoulders.

Anger flared in my chest. “That was unnecessary,” I snapped. “We’re all aware of the situation.”

“Just clarifying the status of the trust,” Six-pack replied, unfazed.

Looking at Flynn’s anxious expression, I made a silent promise to myself. If another codicil arrived and it demanded she be separated from her family, I’d suggest we abandon the whole inheritance. The ranch was worth millions, but not at the cost of tearing my sister’s life apart.

For the next thirty minutes, Six-pack fielded questions about the trust, offering nothing new or helpful.

“Before you go,” I said, standing. “Keltie and I need to speak with you privately.”

“Of course.”

I led him and Keltie into a small room, which had once been our father’s study, off the main hallway. The leather chairs and oak desk remained unchanged from when he’d summoned us here for lectures on responsibility and duty.

“What can I help you with?” Six-pack asked once the door closed behind us.

“We need a referral to a custody attorney,” Keltie said. “Luna’s biological father has reappeared after five years of absence.”

Six-pack raised a brow. “Actually, family law is one of my specialties. I handle custody battles all the time.”

I exchanged a skeptical look with Keltie. Six-pack wasn’t exactly who I’d had in mind.

“What’s the situation?” he asked, settling into one of the chairs in front of the desk. I motioned for Keltie to sit in the other. I remained standing.

Keltie explained Remi’s sudden reappearance, his history of abandonment, and our concerns about his intentions, given Luna’s illness.

Six-pack listened, his expression unreadable. When she finished, he cleared his throat. “I’ll be direct. If he can establish paternity, he could potentially seek rights to visitation or even shared custody.”

Keltie’s face paled. “Even though he denied Luna was his when I told him I was pregnant? Even though he’s had no contact with her for four years?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Six-pack tapped his fingers on the desk. “Courts generally favor giving biological parents a chance to establish relationships with their children, regardless of past behavior.”

“That’s absurd,” I muttered.

“That’s family law,” Six-pack countered. “However, his abandonment works in your favor, Ms. Marquez. As does your established role as Luna’s sole provider and caretaker.”

“And Luna’s illness?” Keltie asked. “How does that factor in?”

“It complicates things. On one hand, courts are reluctant to disrupt a child’s life during serious medical issues. On the other, if he’s providing medical assistance through bone marrow donation or financial support, that strengthens his case.”

Keltie’s shoulders slumped. “So we’re damned either way.”

“Not necessarily. We can establish clear boundaries through a legal agreement if he wants to be involved. But first, let’s see what he actually wants.” Six-pack handed Keltie his business card. “Call me when he contacts you. I’ll be ready.”

We walked him out.

After saying goodbye to my siblings, we drove to Keltie’s house in silence.

When we pulled into her driveway, I cut the engine but made no move to get out. “I hate that you’re going through this.”

Keltie turned to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “He’s a sonuvabitch .”

I took her hand. “You got that right.”

“I appreciate you so much, Holt. I don’t know how I would’ve faced any of this without your support. I hope you know how much it means to me.” She bit her lower lip. “And that…”

“What, Keltie?”

“I love you for it, but it isn’t why I love you, if that makes sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” I responded honestly. I felt it too. Our love wasn’t about what we did for each other. It worked the opposite way. I loved her, so doing things for her and Luna felt right.

We got out of the truck, and as soon as we were inside, Luna’s excited chatter cut through our serious mood. She raced toward us, waving a drawing. “Look what I made at the park!”

The picture showed a girl with wild curls holding hands with a tall stick figure wearing what looked like a cowboy hat. A smaller figure stood on the other side, holding the girl’s hand.

“That’s me,” Luna explained, pointing to the figure in the middle. “And that’s you, Mommy. And that’s Mr. Holt. We’re at the ranch with the horses.”

Keltie knelt down, pulling Luna close. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

I swallowed hard, fighting the emotion rising in my throat. In the face of Luna’s innocent joy, our worries seemed less consuming. We’d protect this child, no matter what it took.

The next two days passed in tense anticipation, waiting for a call from Remi that never came. Keltie tried to focus on work while I split my time between the Goat and the recording studio, laying down tracks for my EP. But uncertainty hung over us, making even ordinary tasks tough to handle.

On the third day, Keltie’s phone rang while we were having lunch at her kitchen table. Luna’s doctor’s name flashed on the screen.

“Dr. Robbins?” Keltie said, putting the phone on speaker. “Is everything okay?”

“Hi, Keltie.” The doctor’s voice came through. “I’m calling with an update on Luna’s test results.”

Keltie reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Go ahead.”