Page 32 of Roaring Fork Rooker (Roaring Fork Ranch #4)

JW

E arlier, I’d been elated. Tomorrow, I would marry the woman I’d loved for thirty years, surrounded by the family that had welcomed me as their own. The rehearsal had gone perfectly, Flynn had outdone herself with the preparations, and everything was coming together beautifully.

The ranch house’s dining room glowed with candlelight and autumn wildflowers. Conversation flowed easily around the long wooden table as family and friends celebrated our upcoming union. I should have been savoring every moment, storing up memories of this perfect evening.

Instead, my attention kept drifting to the woman beside me.

Echo was doing her best to hide her anxiety, but I could see it in the way she gripped her fork, how she flinched when people spoke to her. It had been getting worse as our wedding day approached, and tonight, it was impossible to ignore.

She sat rigidly in her chair, cutting her food into pieces she never brought to her mouth.

Her responses to the conversation came after long pauses, like she was translating from another language.

When Flynn asked about her dress, Echo stared blankly for several seconds before remembering to answer.

The transformation was jarring. The confident woman who ran a major charity, who could comfort grieving families in their darkest hours, had been replaced by someone who seemed to be holding herself together through sheer will.

“JW, you’re getting yourself quite a woman,” Holt said, raising his glass. “Echo’s been a blessing to our family. She helped us navigate Luna’s treatment when we didn’t know up from down.”

I forced a smile and squeezed Echo’s hand. Her fingers were ice cold despite the warm room.

“Second chances don’t come often,” Buck said, his tone growing serious. “Most of us don’t get to reclaim something we lost. When Patricia created that trust, I don’t think she could have imagined it would lead to moments like this.”

Porter nodded. “The trust taught me that running from love only makes you more lost. Finding Cici again, building something real with her—that’s what saved me.”

“Marriage changes everything,” said Cord, looking at his wife with obvious affection. “In the best way. You realize you’re not facing life alone anymore. Every burden gets lighter when there’s someone willing to share it.”

I watched Echo’s face tighten at the siblings’ words about sharing burdens.

Holt leaned forward. “Building a family together—there’s nothing like it. Even when it’s complicated, even when the past throws curveballs, you figure it out together.”

“What matters is that you found each other again,” Buck added. “After all these years, after everything that kept you apart, that’s pretty remarkable. Love like yours doesn’t die—it just waits.”

I listened to the men who had become like sons to me speak, grateful for their acceptance and wisdom. Each had overcome their own obstacles to find happiness, and while they meant to bring comfort, their words seemed to agitate Echo further.

Her breathing had grown shallow, and she kept glancing toward the door like she was calculating escape routes. When Luna laughed at something Keltie said, Echo jumped as if she’d been struck.

“Echo,” I said softly, leaning closer so our conversation wouldn’t carry. “Are you feeling all right?”

She turned to me with eyes that looked haunted. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. The strain in her voice made my chest tighten with worry.

I tried different approaches throughout the evening.

When she pushed the food around her plate without eating, I suggested we step outside for fresh air.

She declined. When her hands trembled while reaching for her water glass, I covered them with mine, trying to warm them.

She pulled away. When the conversation grew loud and animated, making her startle repeatedly, I suggested we find a quieter spot. She shook her head.

Nothing I offered seemed to help. If anything, my attempts to comfort her only seemed to increase her distress.

As the evening wore on, Echo’s mood worsened. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, more pronounced in the candlelight. Her skin had taken on a grayish pallor that concerned me. She’d lost weight over the past week—weight she couldn’t afford to lose—and tonight, her clothes hung loose on her frame.

Flynn noticed too. I caught her studying Echo with the same worried expression I probably wore. When Echo excused herself to use the restroom, Flynn followed. They returned several minutes later, but Echo looked even more strained than before.

As guests began to disperse and Flynn started clearing the dishes, the ranch house grew quieter. Echo and I remained in the main room while the last conversations faded and car doors slammed outside.

She stood by the window overlooking the dark mountains, her reflection ghosted in the glass. Her posture spoke of defeat, like she was carrying a weight too heavy to manage.

The silence stretched between us until it became unbearable. Tomorrow, we were supposed to stand before everyone and promise to share our lives. But right now, the woman I loved felt like a stranger.

“Echo, please talk to me.”

She turned from the window, and what I saw in her expression made my blood run cold. Not just anxiety or nerves, but something closer to despair.

“We need to talk,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

My gut clenched with her words. The way she said them, the finality in her tone—she was calling off the wedding. After everything we’d been through, after finding each other again, she was going to end it.

My throat constricted, making it difficult to speak. “Of course.”

She moved to the sofa, perching on the edge like she might bolt at any moment. I sat beside her, close enough to offer comfort but far enough to give her space.

“I can’t marry you until I tell you something,” she began, her words shaking. “Something I should have told you weeks ago.”

I waited, my heart hammering against my ribs as she struggled to speak. She wrapped her arms around herself as tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

The silence stretched until I wondered if she’d lost her nerve entirely. When she finally spoke, her voice was so quiet I had to lean forward to hear her.

“A few days after you left, I discovered I was pregnant…”

The words landed like stones in still water, sending ripples through everything I thought I knew. Pregnant. She’d been carrying my child when I fled to Crested Butte, abandoning her to face an unplanned pregnancy alone.

My mind began connecting the dots with sickening clarity.

The timeline, the age— Bridger must be my son .

That quiet, talented young man who’d impressed me with his work ethic and musical ability was my child.

All these months, I’d been getting to know him without realizing I was meeting my own flesh and blood.

The weight of that realization was still settling over me, the magnitude of what I’d missed, what Echo had endured alone, when there was a knock at the door.

“JW? Mom? You in here?” Bridger’s voice carried through the heavy wood.

We both froze, staring at each other across the emotional chasm that had opened between us. I was about to tell her I thought I knew what she was trying to say when the door opened.

Bridger walked in, followed by a woman I’d never seen before. My breath caught in my throat as I took in her features.

She looked exactly like my mother had when she was younger—the same dark hair styled in loose waves, the same delicate bone structure, even the same graceful way of moving.

But this wasn’t just a resemblance. She had my eyes, the same green that looked back at me from mirrors.

My jawline, strong and defined. The same slight cleft in her chin that had been passed down through generations of Rookers.

My daughter. This was my daughter.

Blood rushed in my ears as bewilderment washed over me. I heard the woman say, “As soon as Bridger told me about the wedding, I booked a flight, but I almost didn’t make it in time to see Aunt Echo get married!”

She hurried across the room, her face glowing with happiness. “I’m so excited for you! Seeing you find love again—it’s beyond wonderful!”

I watched Echo’s face drain of all color, saw her body go rigid as she stared at the newcomer. Raw fear radiated from her every muscle as she seemed to shrink in on herself.

The woman grabbed Echo’s hands, bouncing slightly with enthusiasm. “I know it’s last minute, but I couldn’t miss this.” She turned toward me with expectant eyes. “Aunt Echo, introduce me to your fiancé!”

Echo’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Her breathing became rapid and shallow, like she was having a panic attack.

“I—I can’t—” she stammered, rushing toward the door. “I can’t do this.”

She fled the house, leaving the three of us in stunned silence.

The young woman looked confused and hurt, glancing between the door Echo had disappeared through and me. Bridger’s expression was apologetic and concerned.

He stepped forward, filling the uncomfortable silence. “JW, this is my cousin, Gisela.”

I shook her hand automatically, my thoughts spinning as I struggled to process what I was seeing.

“How nice it is to meet you,” I managed, though my voice sounded distant to my own ears.

Gisela’s smile faltered. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“She’s been nervous about the wedding,” Bridger said, though his furrowed brow suggested he was as confused as his cousin.

My mind reeled with questions I couldn’t begin to voice. “Forgive me, but I must find Echo.”

I bolted through the front door, desperate to understand what was happening, but terrified of what other revelations awaited.