Page 41 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

KELTIE

T he Denver skyline appeared ahead as we crossed the city limits. Luna slept peacefully in her booster seat while Holt drove, his hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than necessary as I gazed out the passenger window.

Familiar dread settled in my stomach—heavier this time, knowing what awaited us.

The medical procedures that would ravage my daughter’s tiny body were necessary, but terrifying, nonetheless.

And somewhere in this city, Luna’s biological father awaited the call to donate his bone marrow—a connection I wasn’t ready to acknowledge but couldn’t avoid.

“She’s been out for almost an hour,” I whispered, glancing at my daughter. Holt’s eyes met mine briefly in the rearview mirror, his face drawn with the same anxiety that clawed at my insides.

I was unable to speak around the lump in my throat. Behind us, I caught my father’s concerned gaze from the car carrying him, Sam, and Beau. Our convoy to what felt both like salvation and doom.

My hands trembled when the hospital’s familiar facade came into view. Luna stirred, blinking drowsily as she took in her surroundings.

“Are we here, Mommy?” Her small voice broke through the silence.

“Yes, baby. We’re here.” I forced a brightness into my tone that I didn’t feel.

Luna sighed, clutching Bunny tighter. “I don’t want more medicine.”

“I know, Luna-bug.” My vision blurred with unshed tears. At four years old, my daughter had endured more pain than most people faced in a lifetime.

Holt’s hand squeezed mine, anchoring me to the present. “One step at a time,” he murmured the phrase that had become our mantra.

The apartments Beau had arranged were even better than our previous accommodations—spacious two-bedroom units with full kitchens and living areas. My father, Sam, and Beau took one, while Holt, Luna, and I settled into the other.

“This place is fancy,” Luna declared, exploring every corner despite her fatigue from the journey. “Look, Mommy! The bathtub has jets!”

I smiled at her excitement, treasuring these moments of normalcy.

Later, after Luna had fallen asleep in the bedroom she’d claimed as her own, I collapsed beside Holt onto the sofa, my head dropping to his shoulder.

“Seven to ten days of conditioning,” I whispered, the medical term for what amounted to systematically destroying my daughter’s immune system. “Then the transplant.”

Holt’s arm tightened around me. “We’ll get through it. She’ll get through it.”

The procedures necessary to prepare my daughter for the transplant were worse than I’d imagined.

Each day, Luna grew weaker as the chemotherapy and radiation ravaged her small body.

Her nausea became so severe she could barely keep down water.

Yet somehow, she still found moments to smile—usually when Holt was telling her stories.

On the fifth day, I was sitting beside Luna’s hospital bed, watching her sleep fitfully, when a nurse appeared in the doorway.

“Ms. Marquez? There’s someone asking for you at the nurses’ station.”

Ice formed in my veins. I knew before I even left the room. My father had gone to pick up fresh clothes from the apartment, and Sam was getting coffee with Beau in the cafeteria. Holt had stepped out to make a call to his siblings.

Remi stood at the desk, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that seemed grotesquely out of place among the medical scrubs and worried parents. A slim portfolio was tucked under his arm, and the smirk on his face made my stomach lurch.

“Keltie,” he said, as if we were meeting for drinks rather than discussing our daughter’s life. “You look tired.”

“What do you want, Remi?” I demanded, keeping my voice low for Luna’s sake.

He pulled documents from the portfolio, sliding them across the counter toward me. “Just making things official before I proceed with the transplant. My lawyer drew these up. They’re quite straightforward.”

I stared at the papers, not touching them. “What are they?”

“The agreement we discussed.” His tone was casual, as if we were negotiating a business deal. “I provide the bone marrow, and in exchange, I get full acknowledgment as Luna’s father—on her birth certificate, legal documents, everything.”

I grabbed the papers, scanning the first page, and my blood turned from ice to boiling as I read further. “This isn’t what we discussed. This says you want primary custody once she’s recovered.”

Remi shrugged, straightening his jacket. “I’ve been thinking about it. She needs a stable environment—financially secure, with the best schools, best opportunities. I can provide that.”

“You’ve never even spoken to her!” I hissed, rage building in my chest. “You don’t know her favorite color or the stories she loves. You denied she was even yours!”

“People change,” he replied smoothly. “Besides, it’s not like you have much choice. I’m her only full match. Without me, her chances drop significantly.”

Something inside me snapped. The calm I’d been desperately maintaining for Luna’s sake shattered like glass.

“Nurse,” I called, my voice shaking. “I need to speak with Dr. Robbins immediately. It’s an emergency.”

She must have heard the desperation in my voice because she picked up the phone without question. In under a minute, Dr. Robbins appeared, her face etched with concern.

“Keltie? What’s happening?”

I turned to her, aware of Remi shifting behind me. “Luna’s father has decided against doing the transplant.”

I felt rather than saw Remi step forward. “That’s not what I?—”

“Shut the fuck up, or I swear to God I’ll kill you.” Holt’s voice came from behind us, low and deadly. I hadn’t even realized he was back.

Dr. Robbins looked between us. “Perhaps we should discuss this privately.”

“I’m a half match,” I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Use me instead.”

Dr. Robbins hesitated, then motioned to me to follow. “My office. Now.”

I clutched the papers in my fist, aware of Holt physically blocking Remi from following us. Once the door closed behind us, I slammed the documents onto her desk.

“He wants to take my daughter,” I said, my voice breaking. “In exchange for his bone marrow, he wants my daughter. He’s never even had a conversation with her!”

Dr. Robbins picked up the papers, scanning them quickly. Her expression hardened as she read.

“Sit down, Keltie,” she said gently.

I sank into the chair, my legs no longer able to support me. “Can you do it? Can you use my cells instead?”

She sighed, setting the papers down. “While a full match is preferred, a half match will work. Particularly given the circumstances.”

Hope flickered, fragile but present. “Thank God.”

“Bone marrow transplants from half-identical family members have been performed more frequently due to the challenges in finding a fully matched donor,” she explained.

“Treatment advances help the body accept the new cells, regardless. In this case, I believe it’s in Luna’s best interest to proceed with you as the donor.

” She leaned forward, her expression more personal than professional.

Tears spilled down my cheeks. “Will it hurt her more? Be harder on her?”

“The risks are slightly higher,” she admitted. “But Luna is strong, and frankly, her connection to you—her trust, her comfort with you—those factors matter in recovery.”

I wiped away tears. “When can we do it?”

“I’ll need to run more tests, but we can begin harvesting your cells tomorrow. The procedure itself isn’t pleasant—you’ll be sore for several days—but it’s nothing compared to what Luna’s going through.”

“I don’t care about the pain,” I said. “I’d give her my heart if she needed it.”

Dr. Robbins smiled. “I know you would. That’s why I believe this will work.”

When we returned to the hallway, Remi was engaged in a tense standoff with Holt and my father, who’d created a physical barrier between Remi and Luna’s room.

“You’re no longer needed,” I said, my voice steady for the first time in days.

Remi’s face darkened. “You can’t do this. I’m her father.”

“No,” I replied. “You’re a sperm donor who abandoned us both. A father is someone who shows up, who loves unconditionally, who puts his child’s needs above his own.” I glanced at Holt, drawing strength from his presence. “Luna already has that person in her life.”

“This isn’t over,” Remi warned, gathering the papers I threw at his feet. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

“Get out,” I seethed.

Rather than watch him leave, I turned to Holt and my dad, whose faces reflected the same mixture of concern and relief I felt.

“Dr. Robbins says I can do it,” I told them. “My cells. My donation.”

My father’s arms felt strong around my shoulders as he embraced me. “Mi hija valiente,” he murmured. “My brave daughter.”

When he let go, Holt pulled me against him, his breath warm against my hair. “I love you so much.”

How did he know those were the exact words I needed to hear?

The bone marrow harvest was as painful as Dr. Robbins had warned.

I lay face down on the operating table while they extracted marrow from my pelvic bone with a long needle.

The local anesthetic dulled the worst of it, but nothing could completely eliminate the strange pressure and discomfort of having part of my body literally sucked out through my bones.

It meant nothing compared to watching Luna’s struggle. The conditioning had left her so vulnerable that even the slightest infection could be deadly. She was isolated in a sterile room, the visitors limited and required to wear masks, gloves, and gowns.

The actual transplant was anticlimactic—a bag of cells, not much different in appearance from a blood transfusion, dripping slowly into her veins. I held her hand throughout, telling the same stories Holt did, of magical forests and cloud kingdoms where unicorns danced among the stars.

“Your super cells are going inside me?” Luna asked drowsily, her eyes heavy from the medication.

“That’s right, Luna-bug,” I said, squeezing her fingers gently.