Page 27 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

ECHO

T he following night, as we walked toward Pueblo Moon under the star-filled sky, I remembered the donation that had arrived at the charity weeks ago. The timing, the specific mention of the little girl—it had been weighing on my mind since the day we got it.

“The Miracles of Hope received a generous but anonymous gift. Fifty thousand dollars in memory of Scarlett Blanche Wheaton,” I said.

JW’s steps slowed. “Oh?”

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

He stopped walking and turned to face me directly. For a moment, I thought he might deny it. Instead, he asked, “What makes you think that?”

“Because you’re the only person I’ve met recently who would know that name and understand what it would mean to the organization.”

“Yes,” he said simply. “It was me.”

“Why anonymously?” I asked, genuinely curious. “Most donors want the recognition, especially for that amount.”

“Because it wasn’t about that. It was about honoring a little girl who never got the chance to grow up.”

His words hit me unexpectedly hard. The quiet reverence in his voice, the way he spoke about a child whose memory he carried—made my throat tight with emotion.

“You really loved her, didn’t you? Patricia.”

“Like a sister. We went through everything together.”

I studied his profile in the moonlight. “I’m beginning to understand the sacrifices you made for her family.”

Here was a man who’d spent thirty years of his life protecting people who didn’t even know who he was, who’d given up his own happiness to ensure theirs.

Whatever anger I’d carried about his abandonment was slowly being replaced by something else—respect, understanding, maybe even the beginnings of forgiveness.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked when we stepped onto the porch.

“More than anything.”

While I’d expected he would, since the night of the campfire, JW hadn’t kissed me. Hadn’t even come close. Rather than wait any longer, I reached for his hand, leaned up, and softly brushed his lips with mine.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“I got tired of waiting.”

He raised a brow. “I wasn’t sure you?—”

Rather than let him finish, I kissed him again.

The moment our mouths touched, something ignited between us.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled my body close to his.

The taste of him was exactly as I remembered—not from that night, but from those kisses that had haunted my dreams for years.

It was full of passion and heat and promise, and as much as I knew it was wrong, nothing had ever felt so right.

He broke the kiss first, looking into my eyes for answers to questions he hadn’t asked.

“Come in,” I said, unlocking the door, then waiting for him to open it. “I’m going to have a glass of wine. Would you like to join me?”

“I’d love to.” His voice was soft, hesitant, and not at all what I wanted from him. And that wasn’t fair.

While I poured our wine, JW lit the kindling in the fireplace. When I sat on the sofa, he sat beside me, and I turned to face him.

The past few days at Sangre Vista had shown me glimpses of the man he’d become—thoughtful, accomplished, deeply caring.

Being here, seeing what he’d built, watching how his staff clearly respected and cared for him, was reshaping everything I thought I knew about the person who’d left me all those years ago.

“Echo,” he said, setting his glass on the table in front of us. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

I tensed, now wishing I hadn’t invited him in, wishing I hadn’t kissed him. The firelight played across his features, highlighting the silver in his hair and the lines around his eyes that spoke of years I hadn’t shared with him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to?—”

“Let me say this. I want you in my life.” His words were clear and unwavering. “I never stopped loving you—not for a single day in all these years. If there’s any chance you could forgive me for leaving the way I did, I’ll do anything to be with you.”

His declaration, laying his heart bare, took my breath away. The vulnerability in his voice, the hope and fear warring in his expression—it was everything I’d once dreamed of hearing and everything I feared most.

I turned away and stared into the fire as my mind raced.

Part of me wanted to throw caution aside, to tell him that I’d never stopped loving him either, that seeing him again had awakened feelings I’d thought were buried forever.

But the practical part of me, the part that knew more lives than mine would be destroyed if I gave in, held me back.

There were still so many things he didn’t know about what had happened after he left.

Decisions I’d made, consequences I’d lived with, secrets I’d carried for nearly three decades.

If I let him back into my heart completely, those truths would eventually surface.

And when they did, would our love survive them?

“I’m sorry…I can’t…I need more time,” I finally said, standing. The words felt inadequate for the magnitude of what he’d just shared, but they were all I could manage.

“Of course.” He stood too and walked to the door.

“Good night, JW,” I said as I closed it behind him.

Once he was gone, I paced the small living area as my mind churned.

These days at his ranch had shown me a life I could barely have imagined—beauty, peace, a sense of purpose and accomplishment that radiated from everything he’d created.

He was offering me a place in that life, a chance to build something together that we’d only dreamed about when we were young.

But dreams were easier than reality. In my case, reality came crashing in the moment I let it.

Not only couldn’t I allow JW to get any closer, but I couldn’t stay here any longer.

I was about to pick up my phone to call Kingston when it rang with what I recognized as the charity’s emergency-line number, programmed to forward to my phone.

“Echo West,” I answered.

“Echo, thank God you picked up.” It was Melanie, and the strain in her voice made my stomach clench. “I’m so sorry to call. I know you’re away, but we have a situation. Carley Wheeler—you remember the family—she’s taken a turn for the worse.”

Carley. Seven years old and had been fighting leukemia for two years. Her parents, Amy and Steve, had been pillars of strength through her treatment, but I could hear in Melanie’s voice that something had changed.

“What happened?”

“She spiked a fever this afternoon, and her counts dropped dramatically. They’ve admitted her into the ICU. Her parents are…” Melanie’s voice broke. “They’re asking for you specifically.”

I’d promised them that if they needed me, I would come as fast as I could.

It was what we did at Miracles of Hope—we walked alongside families through the darkest moments of their lives.

But Carley’s case was particularly close to my heart.

She reminded me of another little girl I’d once known, another fight that had been lost.

“I’m in New Mexico,” I said, already moving toward my suitcase. “But I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Where are they?”

“Denver. At Children’s Hospital.”

The logistics of getting there hit me as soon as I spoke. I’d have to find a way to the nearest airport, pray there was a flight, then once I landed in Denver, find a way to the hospital. If I could manage any of it, there was a good chance the soonest flight wouldn’t be until tomorrow.

“I’ll figure something out,” I said. “Tell them I’m coming.”

After ending the call, I stood in the cabin’s living room, staring at my phone. JW’s declaration of love seemed like a lifetime ago instead of several minutes. Real life had intruded, reminding me of the obligations and responsibilities that defined who I was now.

I grabbed my jacket and headed for the lodge, my footsteps quick on the wooden porch. Through the windows, I could see him banking the fire, preparing to close down for the night. When I knocked, he opened the door immediately, taking in my pale complexion and the phone still clutched in my hand.

“Echo? What’s wrong?”

“I just got a call from work. One of our families—their little girl has taken a turn for the worse. She’s been fighting for two years, and…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Even he knew what calls like this meant.

“Her parents need me,” I continued, my voice steadier than I felt. “I have to get back to Colorado immediately.”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “What can I do to help?”

The unconditional offer of assistance, without questions about timing or inconvenience, reminded me why I’d fallen in love with this man, in the first place. “I was hoping to catch a flight out of Albuquerque?—”

“It will take too long,” he finished, understanding immediately. “By the time you drive to the airport, go through security, make connections...”

“I know, but I don’t see any other option.”

“I’ll take you. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

The offer took my breath away. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Go pack whatever you need. I’ll get the truck ready.”

Five minutes later, I was throwing my belongings into my suitcase with shaking hands.

The beautiful days we’d shared at Sangre Vista were ending abruptly, cut short by the demands of real life.

As I zipped up my bag, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

I couldn’t allow myself to think my leaving was for the best, not when it meant a little girl was fighting for her life. But I still saw it as a sign.

A warning. I couldn’t think so selfishly again.

Carley’s health had nothing to do with my secret, and while the devastation it would cause was nowhere near as bad as what she faced, I’d bring pain and heartache to the people I loved the most, and that wasn’t something I could do. Not for JW. Not for anyone.