Page 5 of Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch #3)

KELTIE

“Mommy?” Luna’s voice was small and raspy.

I brushed a damp curl from her forehead. “I’m right here, baby.”

“When can we go home?”

“Soon, I hope,” I said, forcing a smile. “The doctors are running tests to figure out why you keep getting fevers.”

Luna’s eyelids were already drooping. “I’m tired.”

“Sleep, Luna-bug. I’ll be right here.”

I watched as she drifted off, the steady beep of the heart monitor a metronome tracking each moment. My own heart felt like it might burst from my chest, hammering with fear I couldn’t show her.

This wasn’t our first hospital visit. Over the past three months, Luna had experienced recurring fevers, growing fatigue, and most recently, unexplained bruising on her legs that the previous doctor had dismissed as “normal childhood injuries.” I knew something was wrong, but each time we visited her pediatrician, we left with a different explanation—a virus, a growth phase, childhood anemia.

The curtain rustled as Dr. Patel entered, clipboard in hand. The on-call pediatrician who’d examined Luna when we arrived was new to us. Unlike the others, he hadn’t dismissed my concerns.

“Ms. Marquez? May I speak with you?”

I squeezed Luna’s hand before stepping right outside the curtained area.

“We have some preliminary blood results,” he said, his expression serious. “Luna’s counts are concerning enough that I believe she should see specialists in Denver for a more thorough evaluation.”

The floor felt like it tilted beneath me. “Are you saying…? What are you saying?”

Dr. Patel lowered his voice. “These symptoms, along with the blood work, could indicate several conditions.”

“Right,” I muttered, hating that I was once again dealing with someone unwilling to tell it to me straight.

Maybe it was my sheer exhaustion or that hospitals didn’t give a shit about the people who had to sit at their kid’s bedside for hours on end, but something inside me snapped. “What do you think it is?”

“Given the symptoms, I’d like to determine whether her blood-forming tissues have been compromised. Further testing would help us do that.”

Blood-forming tissues? What in the hell did that mean?

“Specifically certain kinds of cancer,” he added before I could ask. His words struck me in the same way it would have if he’d reached out and punched me. My daughter—my bright, beautiful four-year-old—might have cancer .

“I’ve made some calls,” the doctor continued, his voice fading in and out like a bad radio signal as my mind reeled.

“There’s an excellent pediatric oncology team at Children’s Hospital in Denver.

They can see Luna next week. In the meantime, we’ll stabilize her fever and run additional tests here. ”

I was unable to form words.

“Ms. Marquez? Is there someone I can call for you? A family member or friend?”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I’d intended. “No, thank you. I need a minute.”

“Of course. Luna’s sleeping now. I can ask one of the nurses to step in to give you a few minutes if you’d like.”

I glanced at my daughter, her favorite stuffed rabbit tucked beside her. Bunny had been through every fever, every doctor’s visit, every late-night terror. Now, it might be facing something far worse with her.

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered, though she couldn’t hear me.

The walk to the exit felt endless. Nurses and staff blurred past as I moved on autopilot, walking through the automatic doors and out into the frigid December air.

Only when I reached my truck did I finally break. My legs gave way, and my knees hit the frozen asphalt with a dull thud. The tears came without sound at first, then built into gut-wrenching sobs that tore through my chest.

Luna. My baby. My entire world. The thought of losing her was unimaginable. Yet here I was, forced to imagine it.

Would our new insurance cover all these tests? What would happen to the bar while we were in Denver? The questions spiraled, each more overwhelming than the last.

A warm hand touched my shoulder, gentle but firm. I startled, looking up through tear-blurred eyes.

Holt Wheaton crouched beside me, his blue eyes filled with concern. Without a word, he embraced me.

I should have pulled away. I barely knew this man. Instead, I collapsed against his chest, my fingers clutching the fabric of his jacket as the sobs overtook me again. He held me, one hand stroking my hair, the other arm wrapped around me, saying nothing, asking nothing.

When the worst of it finally passed, leaving me hollow and spent, I wiped roughly at my face.

“What are you doing here?” My voice was hoarse from crying.

“I stopped by the Goat, and Miguel told me you brought Luna here.” Holt’s gaze was steady. “I thought you might need…” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence.

Need what? Need him? The thought should have annoyed me, but instead, a treacherous part of me whispered that maybe I did.

He handed me a bandana from his pocket. “Here.”

I took it and wiped my face. “Thanks. I, uh, should go inside.”

“Let me walk you.” He stood, extending his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, I took it.

As we passed his truck, Holt stopped. “Hold on a sec.” He reached inside and pulled out his guitar case. “Maybe this will help. You know, kids usually like music.”

The simple gesture—so unexpected, so thoughtful—nearly broke me again.

Inside, Dr. Patel was waiting near the nurses’ station. His eyes flickered between Holt and me.

“Ms. Marquez, you’re here. Good.” He glanced at Holt. “Is this Luna’s father?”

“No,” I said quickly. “He’s a friend.”

Holt extended his hand. “Holt Wheaton. Here for support.”

“I’d like a private word with Ms. Marquez, if you don’t mind,” said Dr Patel.

“No problem.” Holt took a step away. “I’ll wait over there.”

As he moved, I heard Luna’s voice from her bay—“Mr. Wheaton!”—her tone brightening in a way that defied how sick she was. Holt looked at me questioningly. I nodded, and he disappeared behind the curtain as the doctor led me over to the nurses’ station.

“I’ve arranged an appointment with the oncology team in Denver for December 30,” he said once we were seated. “I know that’s a week away, but they’re fitting us in as soon as they can. In the meantime, we’ll monitor Luna closely. I’ll send you home later with medication to manage her fever.”

The word “oncology” made my stomach clench. “I thought you said you wanted to rule out cancer?”

“Based on her symptoms and the preliminary results, it’s one possibility, but other conditions can present similarly. The specialists will conduct bone marrow tests and more comprehensive blood work.”

I gripped the arms of my chair. “And if it is…?”

Dr. Patel’s expression softened. “Pediatric acute lymphoblastic leukemia—or ALL—has one of the highest success rates among childhood cancers. Over ninety percent of children achieve remission with proper treatment.”

“As in chemotherapy? Radiation?” The words felt foreign on my tongue.

“Potentially, yes. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The first step is a definitive diagnosis.”

“When can I take her home?” I asked, struggling to process it all.

“We’ll keep her for a few more hours to make sure the fever stays down and to finish the IV antibiotics.”

I paused outside the curtain of Luna’s bay, struck by the scene inside. Holt sat in the chair by the bed, guitar balanced on his knee, playing a soft melody while Luna watched with wide, enchanted eyes.

“Then the unicorn said to the little girl, ‘If you can find the secret pond where the stars swim at night, I’ll show you how to hear the music of the forest,’” Holt was saying, weaving a story between gentle strums of his guitar.

“What happened next?” Luna asked, completely captivated.

“Well, the little girl searched high and low. She climbed mountains and crossed rivers. And when she was about to give up…”

“She found it!” Luna exclaimed.

Holt grinned. “How did you know?”

“Because she didn’t give up! That’s what Mommy always says. Don’t give up.”

Something in my chest cracked open at her words. I stepped into the bay, and Luna’s face lit up further.

“Mommy! Mr. Wheaton is telling me a story about a magic pond!”

I smiled, the gesture pulling at muscles tight from crying. “I heard. It sounds wonderful.”

Holt looked up at me, his eyes asking silent questions. I gave a small shake of my head, a promise to explain later.

“Can Mr. Wheaton finish the story before we go home?” Luna asked.

“Actually, sweetie, we need to stay a bit longer. The doctors want to make sure your fever stays down.”

“But I feel better now.” As if to prove her point, she sat up straighter, though the effort clearly cost her.

“I’m glad,” I said, sitting beside her and taking her hand. “But we still need to listen to the doctors.”

Holt stood. “I should let you rest.”

“No!” Luna protested, her fingers reaching for his sleeve. “Please stay. Please finish the story.”

He glanced at me, and I surprised myself by nodding. “Stay. Unless there’s somewhere else you need to be.”

The relief on Luna’s face was worth whatever complications I was inviting by allowing this beautiful, magnetic stranger deeper into our lives.

Holt settled into the chair to resume his story. Luna’s eyes grew heavy as he played, her body relaxing into sleep even as she fought to hear the end of the tale.

When he finished, she was sound asleep, her breathing deep and even. Holt placed his guitar in its case and stood again, gesturing toward the hallway. I followed him out.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “It was nice to see her smile.”

His gaze was intense. “I overheard a bit of what the doctor said.”

I stiffened. “You were listening?”

“Not intentionally.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is presumptuous, but I want to help. I can drive you both to Denver for the appointment.”

“That’s really not necessary. We’ll be fine.”

He hesitated, indecision flickering across his face. “The thing is…” He stopped, then seemed to come to a decision. “I need to tell you something strange.”

“Strange how?”

“I know we barely know each other,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want to overstep. But when I met Luna last night…” He paused, seeming to reconsider his words. “She’s a special kid. I could tell right away.”

“Thanks.” I was tired but grateful for the acknowledgment.

“And when Miguel told me she was in the hospital, I thought you could both use a friend.”

I studied his face, looking for ulterior motives, but finding only genuine concern. His showing up was unexpected, yes, but his support—especially the way he’d connected with Luna—felt like a lifeline on one of the worst days of my life.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, the offer stands.”

“Why would you do that? You barely know us.”

The question seemed to surprise him. “Because you need help, and I can give it. Because Luna is…” He trailed off, then finished simply, “Because it matters.”

We stood in silence for a long moment, the hospital sounds fading to background noise.

Part of me screamed not to trust him, not to need anyone.

That part had kept me safe, kept Luna safe, for four years.

But a smaller voice whispered that Luna deserved every advantage, every kindness the world might offer.

“The appointment isn’t until next week,” I finally said. “December 30.”

“Just let me know.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” He hesitated. “Actually, there was another reason I came looking for you tonight. Sam and my family wanted me to invite you and Luna to spend Christmas with us at the ranch. There’s plenty of room, and with all the kids there now, it would be fun for Luna.

One of the ranch hands dresses up as Santa every year. ”

The invitation caught me off guard. Christmas was two days away, and I’d planned for Luna and me to have a quiet celebration at home.

But looking at my sleeping daughter, I wondered if a family Christmas—even with strangers—might be better than the two of us alone in our house with this new fear hanging over us.

“I’ll think about that too,” I said. “If Luna feels up to it.”

“Fair enough.” He glanced at his watch. “Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?”

His kindness nearly undid me again. “Coffee would be amazing.”

“Coming right up.” He squeezed my shoulder lightly, the touch sending an unexpected current through me despite my exhaustion. “By the way, you should know—Luna made me promise to teach her how to play guitar when she feels better.”

A smile tugged at my lips, the first real one in hours. “Did she, now?”

“She’s very persuasive. Must get that from her mother,” he added with a wink.