Roaring Fork Rockstar (Roaring Fork Ranch Book 3), page 24
Six-pack listened, his expression unreadable. When she finished, he cleared his throat. “I’ll be direct. If he can establish paternity, he could potentially seek rights to visitation or even shared custody.”
Keltie’s face paled. “Even though he denied Luna was his when I told him I was pregnant? Even though he’s had no contact with her for four years?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Six-pack tapped his fingers on the desk. “Courts generally favor giving biological parents a chance to establish relationships with their children, regardless of past behavior.”
“That’s absurd,” I muttered.
“That’s family law,” Six-pack countered. “However, his abandonment works in your favor, Ms. Marquez. As does your established role as Luna’s sole provider and caretaker.”
“And Luna’s illness?” Keltie asked. “How does that factor in?”
“It complicates things. On one hand, courts are reluctant to disrupt a child’s life during serious medical issues. On the other, if he’s providing medical assistance through bone marrow donation or financial support, that strengthens his case.”
Keltie’s shoulders slumped. “So we’re damned either way.”
“Not necessarily. We can establish clear boundaries through a legal agreement if he wants to be involved. But first, let’s see what he actually wants.” Six-pack handed Keltie his business card. “Call me when he contacts you. I’ll be ready.”
We walked him out.
After saying goodbye to my siblings, we drove to Keltie’s house in silence.
When we pulled into her driveway, I cut the engine but made no move to get out. “I hate that you’re going through this.”
Keltie turned to me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “He’s a sonuvabitch.”
I took her hand. “You got that right.”
“I appreciate you so much, Holt. I don’t know how I would’ve faced any of this without your support. I hope you know how much it means to me.” She bit her lower lip. “And that…”
“What, Keltie?”
“I love you for it, but it isn’t why I love you, if that makes sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” I responded honestly. I felt it too. Our love wasn’t about what we did for each other. It worked the opposite way. I loved her, so doing things for her and Luna felt right.
We got out of the truck, and as soon as we were inside, Luna’s excited chatter cut through our serious mood. She raced toward us, waving a drawing. “Look what I made at the park!”
The picture showed a girl with wild curls holding hands with a tall stick figure wearing what looked like a cowboy hat. A smaller figure stood on the other side, holding the girl’s hand.
“That’s me,” Luna explained, pointing to the figure in the middle. “And that’s you, Mommy. And that’s Mr. Holt. We’re at the ranch with the horses.”
Keltie knelt down, pulling Luna close. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”
I swallowed hard, fighting the emotion rising in my throat. In the face of Luna’s innocent joy, our worries seemed less consuming. We’d protect this child, no matter what it took.
The next two days passed in tense anticipation, waiting for a call from Remi that never came. Keltie tried to focus on work while I split my time between the Goat and the recording studio, laying down tracks for my EP. But uncertainty hung over us, making even ordinary tasks tough to handle.
On the third day, Keltie’s phone rang while we were having lunch at her kitchen table. Luna’s doctor’s name flashed on the screen.
“Dr. Robbins?” Keltie said, putting the phone on speaker. “Is everything okay?”
“Hi, Keltie.” The doctor’s voice came through. “I’m calling with an update on Luna’s test results.”
Keltie reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “Go ahead.”
“Luna’s response to treatment isn’t as strong as we’d hoped. Her latest blood work shows higher numbers than we’d like to see at this stage.”
The air got thicker, and Keltie’s face went pale, but her voice remained steady. “What does that mean for her overall plan?”
“I’ve pushed the lab to process the bone marrow compatibility tests faster. At this point, I believe a transplant is Luna’s best option for achieving remission.”
“How soon would that be?” I asked.
“The preliminary results should be available tomorrow.”
When the call ended, Keltie sat motionless, staring at her phone. “I thought she was doing so well,” she whispered.
I moved my chair beside hers, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. “She still is. This is just the next step.”
Keltie nodded mechanically, but her fear was palpable. We’d both allowed ourselves to hope that the initial protocols would be enough. Now, we faced a new, more challenging phase.
The second call from Dr. Robbins came the following afternoon. Keltie and I were at the Goat; she was going over the books while I sat at a nearby table with Luna as she drew pictures.
“Hello, Dr. Robbins,” Keltie answered, her voice tight with anticipation. I stood, telling Luna I’d be right back. On our way into the office, I caught Miguel’s eye and he walked over and sat with her.
“Keltie, I have the bone marrow compatibility results,” the doctor said once the door was closed and Keltie let her know she was on speaker. “Neither you nor your father is a full match.”
Keltie’s face fell, and I put my arm around her.
“However,” Dr. Robbins continued, “Remi Gilbert is.”
The irony wasn’t lost on either of us. The man who had abandoned Luna before she was born was now her best hope for recovery.
“He never called me,” Keltie said after thanking the doctor and hanging up. “After seeing Luna that day, realizing she was his daughter, he never called.” By the time she finished the sentence, she was in tears.
I fought to keep my anger in check. “We need to reach out to him.”
Keltie scrolled through her contacts until she found Remi’s number. She hit the speaker button, and we both held our breath as it rang.
“I was wondering when you’d call.” Remi’s voice came through, unnervingly calm.
She shook her head. “Misunderstanding, I guess. I was waiting for you to call me.”
“Right,” he muttered as if Keltie was lying. It made me want to reach through the phone and punch the guy in the face a second time.
“We received the test results,” Keltie said, her voice firm. “You’re a full match for Luna’s bone marrow transplant.”
“Ah, so that’s why you finally called.”
I rested my hand on Keltie’s arm when her body visibly tensed. “You’re her only full match, Remi.”
“What exactly does that mean?”
“It means you could save her life.” Keltie’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists. “The doctors need to harvest your bone marrow for the transplant. Without it…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.
The silence stretched for several seconds.
“Will you do it?” Keltie finally asked, desperation creeping into her voice. “Please, Remi. She’s just a little girl.”
He exhaled heavily. “Yes.”
His straight answer caught us both off guard. I’d expected resistance, negotiation, or flat-out refusal. Keltie’s eyes met mine, cautious hope flickering in their depths.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice softer. “I’ll have Dr. Robbins contact you with the details.”
“There’s something we should discuss first,” Remi said, his tone shifting.
“What?”
“I want to be acknowledged as Luna’s father.”
And there it was. The catch.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘acknowledged’?” Keltie asked.
“I want my name on her birth certificate, and I want visitation rights.” His voice hardened. “I’m the reason she’ll survive this, Keltie. I think that entitles me to be part of her life.”
Keltie’s face flushed with anger. “You denied she was yours when I told you I was pregnant.”
“People change,” Remi replied smoothly. “Seeing her the other day… affected me. She looks like my mother, you know. Same eyes.”
I bit back a retort. The manipulation was so transparent it made my skin crawl.
“We can discuss arrangements after the transplant,” Keltie said, her tone making it clear the conversation was over. “Luna’s health comes first.”
“Of course,” Remi agreed too quickly. “I’ll be waiting for the doctor’s call.”
When Keltie hung up, she sagged against me. “He’s using her illness as leverage. Except, if he cared so much about her, why didn’t he get in touch with me like he said he would?”
“Let Remi do or say whatever he wants,” I said, keeping my voice low. “It doesn’t mean it’ll happen. Luna needs this transplant. That’s the first step.”
Keltie squared her shoulders. “I need to call Dr. Robbins.”
“I’ll check on Luna.”
She studied the screen of her phone.
“You’ll be okay?” I asked.
“With this part, yes.”
I drew her into my arms, and she rested her head against my chest. “We’re gonna make it through this, darlin’. You, me, and Luna,” I said, watching as she dialed the number before stepping out and returning to the room.
When I sat beside her bed, the sweet little girl who’d captured my heart looked up with a smile, pushing a crayon toward me.
“Want to color with me, Mr. Holt?”
“Absolutely,” I replied, picking up the blue crayon. “What are we drawing?”
“Space adventures,” she said matter-of-factly. “We’re exploring the moon.”
I smiled, adding stars to her galaxy. “That sounds like fun.”
Luna’s expression was so serious I had to cover my mouth to keep her from seeing my smile. “They can jump super high there because there’s no grabity.”
“Gravity,” I gently corrected.
“That’s what I said,” she replied with the confidence only a four-year-old could muster.
Keltie returned, her expression a mixture of relief and anxiety. “We’re all set.”
Luna looked up from her drawing. “Why do you look sad?”
Keltie forced a smile. “We’re not sad, sweetheart. We were talking about the medicine you need to take soon.”
Luna wrinkled her nose. “The yucky kind?”
“I’m afraid so,” Keltie replied honestly. “But it’s going to help you feel better.”
“Do we have to go to Denver again?”
“We do.”
“Can my toys come with me?” she asked.
“Of course they can,” I said, watching as relief washed over Keltie’s face at Luna’s easy agreement.
“And will you come too, Mr. Holt?”
My heart swelled with love for this child who had somehow become as essential to me as breathing. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away, Unicorn Girl.”
Luna smiled and kept coloring. I watched her small hands carefully select each crayon, oblivious to the storm gathering around her.
“Dr. Robbins is scheduling the transplant,” Keltie said once we were at the house and upstairs in the bedroom while Luna stayed in the kitchen with Victor. “It will be done at Children’s Hospital in Denver. Luna will need to undergo something called conditioning first—a process that lasts seven to ten days to prepare her body.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“High-dose chemotherapy, possibly radiation,” Keltie explained, her voice dropping. “It destroys the cancer cells and suppresses her immune system to prevent rejection of the donated cells.”
The reality of what Luna would face hit me anew. More hospital rooms. More discomfort. More fear masked as bravery from a child too young to understand why this was happening to her.
“When do we need to go?” I asked quietly.
“They want to begin next week,” Keltie replied. “Dr. Robbins says moving quickly gives Luna the best chance.”
I reached for her hand. “Then, that’s what we’ll do.”
We were on our way downstairs when my phone vibrated with a text. I swiped the screen and saw it was from Ben.
“I’ll catch up with you in a sec,” I said.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
Saying yes aloud would’ve meant I’d be breaking my promise never to lie to her, so I nodded once.
I reread the message. Remi told Phil that he lawyered up. Wants full paternity rights and primary custody post transplant. Says getting tested proves he’s committed to being a father.
I deleted the message, my heart hammering against my ribs. The battle for Luna’s life had begun. The battle for her future loomed right behind it.
29
KELTIE
The 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.
