Roaring Fork Rooker, page 18
I tried to focus for the rest of the morning, but my concentration was shattered. Every phone call felt like navigating through fog. Every decision required enormous effort. By lunch, Melanie had knocked on my door three times with questions about things I was supposed to take care of.
“Echo, I think you should go home,” she said during her third visit, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re clearly not well.”
“I’m fine,” I protested, but even I could hear how unconvincing I sounded.
“When was the last time you ate? You look pale.”
I couldn’t remember eating breakfast, despite sitting through an entire meal with Dawn. My stomach felt hollow, but the thought of food made me nauseous.
“Maybe you’re right,” I admitted.
Instead of going home, I drove aimlessly through the mountains, taking back roads that led nowhere. The autumn colors that had seemed so beautiful last week had now faded into dullness.
I pulled over when my phone buzzed with a text from JW. How’s your day going? Thinking of you.
I stared at the message until the words blurred. How could I respond? That I was falling apart? That I was lying to everyone, including myself? That I was about to destroy the best thing that had ever happened to me?
Good day. See you tonight, I typed back.
That evening, I stood outside JW’s cabin for several minutes before knocking, trying to compose myself. The warm light spilling from his windows, the smoke curling from his chimney—it all looked like a promise of happiness I didn’t deserve.
“There’s my beautiful bride-to-be,” he said when he opened the door, his expression lighting up in a way that usually filled my heart.
I attempted a smile, but it felt like wearing a mask that might crack at any moment. “Hi.”
He pulled me into his arms, and for a moment, I let myself sink into his warmth. But even his embrace couldn’t quiet the chaos in my head.
“You seem tired,” he said.
“Long day at work.” Another lie. They were coming so easily now.
During dinner, I picked at the meal he’d prepared, unable to taste anything through my mounting panic. JW glanced at me with growing concern, and I could see him struggling with whether to push.
“Echo, you’ve barely touched your food.”
“I’m just not very hungry.” I made myself take a bite, though it felt like swallowing sawdust.
“Are you getting sick? You look pale.”
“I’m fine.” The sharp edge in my tone surprised us both.
JW set down his fork. “What’s really going on? And please don’t say work again. This is more than that.”
My heart pounded so hard I was sure he could hear it. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” His words were gentle but insistent. “You’ve been distant lately. Distracted. You jump every time your phone rings, you barely eat, and you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Because I hadn’t. Every night brought the same torment—lying awake, staring at the ceiling, rehearsing confessions I’d never have the courage to make.
“It’s just prewedding nerves,” I said weakly.
“Is it?” He leaned forward, searching my expression. “Because if you’re having second thoughts, if you don’t want to marry me—”
“No!” The word exploded out of me. “I want to marry you more than anything. That’s the problem.”
JW’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
Neither did I. How could I explain that loving him was destroying me? That every day we spent together made the weight of my secret heavier?
“I just want everything to be perfect,” I said, hating myself for the continued deception.
But JW wasn’t buying it anymore. I could see the worry in his expression, the way he was trying to piece together whatever was happening to me.
“Echo, whatever’s troubling you, we can work through it together. You don’t have to carry it alone.”
His kindness was like salt in a wound. Here was this incredible man, offering to share my burdens, and I couldn’t even tell him what they were.
“I know,” I whispered, looking away.
The rest of the evening passed in strained silence. JW tried to engage me in conversation, but my responses were monosyllabic, distracted. I could feel him pulling back, hurt by my distance but not knowing how to bridge it.
When I left that night, his goodbye was subdued. “Get some rest,” he said, kissing my forehead.
I drove home through empty streets, tears blurring my vision. At home, I sat in my dark living room, not bothering to turn on the lights, and faced the reality I’d been avoiding.
I was destroying everything. My work was suffering. JW was suffering. I was barely holding myself together, and in five days, I was supposed to stand up in front of everyone and promise to share my life with a man I was already lying to.
The next three days blurred together in a haze of panic and artificial smiles. Flynn bustled around, making the final preparations, her excitement palpable while I moved through the motions like a ghost. During our last planning meeting, she stopped mid-sentence to stare at me.
“Echo, are you all right? You look terrible.”
“Thank you,” I said dryly, but there was no humor in it.
“I’m serious. Should we call a doctor? You might be coming down with something.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“No. This isn’t excitement or nerves. Something else is going on.”
I attempted another smile. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
The lie sat heavy between us, and I could see Flynn filing away her concerns for later discussion.
The night before the ceremony, we gathered at the ranch for the rehearsal. The evening should have been joyful—family and friends coming together to celebrate love and new beginnings. Instead, I felt like I was moving through quicksand, every step requiring enormous effort.
JW barely left my side, his protective instincts clearly triggered by whatever he was seeing in my behavior. But his presence, instead of comforting me, only increased my agitation.
During the mock ceremony, when we were supposed to exchange practice vows, I froze completely. The words stuck in my throat, and I stood there, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water.
“It’s all right,” Flynn said quickly, covering for me. “We’ll save the real magic for tomorrow.”
But JW’s eyes never left mine, and I could see the questions there, the growing alarm.
After everyone else dispersed to their rooms or homes, JW and I lingered in the ranch house’s main room. Tomorrow, we would be married. I’d promise to love and honor and be honest with this man while keeping the biggest secret of my life from him.
“Would you like me to drive you home?” he asked carefully, like he was speaking to something fragile that might break.
“No, I can manage,” I responded, but my feet wouldn’t move.
We stood in awkward silence, and I could feel him trying to read my mood, trying to understand what was happening between us.
“Echo, whatever’s wrong, we can fix it. But you have to tell me what it is.”
The opening I’d been both longing for and dreading. My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked at him—this man who loved me, who trusted me, who deserved so much better than my lies of omission.
“JW,” I began, my words barely a whisper.
“Yes?”
The truth was right there, hovering on my lips. The revelation that would either free us or destroy us completely. My mouth opened and closed several times as I struggled to find the courage.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I finally managed, my voice shaking. “Something I should have told you weeks ago.”
His body went very still, focused on me with an intensity that made me want to run. “What is it?”
“A few days after you left, I discovered I was pregnant—” My words broke, and I had to take a shuddering breath.
Before I could speak again, the front door burst open, interrupting my confession. Kingston walked in, followed by a woman with a bright smile, someone I hadn’t expected to see tonight.
My blood turned to ice as recognition hit. The words I’d been about to speak died in my throat, replaced by a shock so complete it left me speechless.
This couldn’t be happening. Not tonight. Not now. Not when I’d finally found the courage to tell JW the truth myself.
21
JW
Earlier, 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.”
