Roaring Fork Wrangler (Roaring Fork Ranch Book 1), page 18
They deserved better than what life had handed them. They deserved someone who would stand by them through this fight and long beyond it. The certainty that I wanted to be that person surprised me with its clarity.
I loved them. Both of them.
21
KELTIE
The night before we were scheduled to leave Children’s Hospital, I stood at the window of the apartment Sam and Beau had arranged for us, watching the city lights shimmer against the dark sky. Two weeks had passed since we’d arrived—fourteen days that felt both endless and impossibly brief. The good news was we were able to return home earlier than anticipated since Luna had responded well enough that the doctors decided she didn’t have to stay the full month.
Behind me, Holt was sprawled on the sofa, dozing while a mindless reality show played on the television. He’d finally agreed to take a break from the hospital room after my father insisted he do so since he’d be staying the night with Luna. The rotation had worked well—one of us was always with her while the others rested at the nearby apartment.
I’d just returned from checking on them, finding my daughter sleeping peacefully and my father settled in the recliner next to her bed, reading one of his paperbacks. The doctors were pleased with her progress, and tomorrow, we’d finally be taking her home.
“Sleep, darlin’,” Holt said, his voice thick with fatigue. I turned to find him watching me, blue eyes soft in the dim light. “Big day tomorrow.”
“I know.” I crossed the room and sank down beside him. “I can’t believe we’re finally going home.”
Holt got up, checked the locks, then turned out the lights once I made my way down the hall to the first of the two bedrooms. We paused outside the door.
“Thank you,” I said, the words inadequate for everything he’d done.
“For what?” he asked, reaching out to tuck a curl behind my ear.
“For being here. For everything.”
He smiled, leaning down to press his lips to my forehead. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
We’d both agreed that separate bedrooms made sense while we were here. Neither of us had discussed what would happen once we were back in Crested Butte. One day at a time had become our unspoken mantra.
Morning came quickly, and with it, the flurry of activity that accompanied our discharge. I arrived at Luna’s room by seven, finding my father teaching her how to play Go Fish with a deck of cards he’d bought at the gift shop.
“Mommy!” She brightened when she saw me. “I’m winning!”
“That’s because your abuelo lets you cheat,” I said, kissing the top of her head.
The hair loss had started a week after her first treatment. She’d been surprisingly resilient about it, especially after Holt brought her a selection of colorful bandanas.
Dr. Robbins arrived with a tablet in hand, reviewing Luna’s care instructions one final time. We stood near the doorway, looking over at my daughter.
“She did remarkably well with the first round,” she began. “Better than we expected, though the next two weeks will tell us more about how her body is responding.”
“What’s next?” I asked.
“Dr. Patel in Gunnison will coordinate with me. We recommend Luna stay at the hospital there for the five days of her next round, so we can monitor how she tolerates the second cycle. After that, if all goes well, the time she’ll have to stay will grow increasingly shorter.”
“Do I get to ride in a helicopter again?” Luna asked.
“Not this time, Unicorn Girl,” Holt said as he entered the room with coffee for all the adults. “We’re driving home.”
Luna considered this. “Can we stop for ice cream?”
“If your mom says it’s okay.” Holt glanced at me with raised eyebrows.
“We’ll see,” I replied, my standard answer when I was too tired to make decisions.
My father chuckled. “That’s what my mother always said to me when I asked for something. It usually meant yes.”
Dr. Robbins handed me a thick folder. “Everything is in here—medication schedules, signs to watch for, dietary recommendations, activity guidelines. Dr. Patel has all this information too, but I wanted you to have your own copy.”
I thumbed through the folder, overwhelmed by the volume of information. “Thank you.”
“And we should have the bone marrow compatibility results in another couple of weeks or so,” she added. “From you, your father, and Holt.”
The three of us had been tested the following day. A transplant wasn’t guaranteed, but having the results would prepare us for any decision that might come later.
“Any word from Luna’s father?” Dr. Robbins asked quietly, stepping farther away from where Luna was chattering with my dad about the stuffed animal hospital they planned to set up at home.
I shook my head, the familiar knot forming in my stomach. “Not yet.”
Holt had spoken with Ben, who’d talked to Remi. The details of that conversation had been mostly kept from me, at my request. I knew it would be hurtful, and I was already carrying enough pain. What Holt had shared was that the band would be taking a break from the tour the same day Luna was scheduled to start her next round of chemo. With them returning to the States, there was hope Remi might agree to be tested then.
I wasn’t holding my breath.
The drive to Crested Butte took four hours, including a stop for the promised ice cream. Luna dozed for most of the trip. As soon as we turned off Cottonwood Pass and I saw the butte in the distance, I felt my shoulders relax. Home.
“I’m making chilaquiles tomorrow,” my father said, touching Luna’s cheek as we turned onto Elk Avenue—Crested Butte’s version of Main Street. “With the extra queso fresco you like.”
Luna clapped her hands. “With avocado too?”
“Is there any other way?”
She shook her head.
When our house came into view, I gasped. Someone had hung a hand-painted banner across the porch, its crooked letters spelling “Welcome Home Luna.” Wind-whipped balloons were tied to the railing, and the walkway stood freshly shoveled.
“Wow,” I murmured, taking in the sight.
Holt glanced over, a half smile forming on his lips. “I guess the town heard we were coming home today.”
The surprises continued once we were inside. Our refrigerator had been stocked with labeled containers, someone had swept the pine floors, and the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg permeated the air. A wooden crate sat on the counter, overflowing with toys and games for Luna.
“My family, the crew from the Goat, and several other locals pitched in—including Mrs. Lopez of course,” Holt explained.
I swallowed hard, trying to form words, but they stuck in my throat.
Holt and I followed Luna upstairs to her bedroom, which she inspected as though she’d been away for months instead of days. “It looks the same,” she said, sitting on the edge of her bed.
I glanced over at Holt, who stood in the hallway, looking at something on his phone. “I should head to the ranch,” he said, looking up at me.
A sudden unease hit me at the thought of him leaving. “I understand,” I said, wishing he didn’t have to go but knowing he’d already given us so much of his time.
When I stood to say goodbye, he opened his arms and I rested my forehead on his chest. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”
“Sleep if you can. I’ll let myself back in quietly when I return.”
Before he left, he tucked Luna into her bed, promising that, when she woke up, they’d work on their stories again. While she didn’t say, “Promise?” like she usually did, she lifted her hand and Holt wrapped his pinky around hers. He gave me a quick kiss goodbye, then went downstairs, where I heard him talking to my dad.
Since my room was right across the hall from Luna’s, I left both doors open, then fell onto the bed. My dad was staying in the guest room on the first floor, and since he was familiar enough with my house, I didn’t worry about him finding whatever he needed.
I’d drifted off, but my phone’s vibration jolted me awake. Miguel’s name lit up the screen.
“Hey,” I said in a gravelly voice.
“You home yet?” he asked.
“We are, and all I can say is you’re a godsend, Miguel. Thank you for making our homecoming so wonderful. How are things at the Goat?” While I’d checked in with him once a day while we were in Denver, our conversations didn’t last more than a couple of minutes. Each time, he assured me everything was fine, and it had been enough for me. “I’ll be by later, okay?”
“The Goat isn’t going anywhere. Come in whenever you’re ready.”
After thanking him again and hanging up, I checked on Luna. She was sound asleep, like I soon hoped to be. Hearing my dad looking for stuff in the kitchen, I decided to check on him too. I found him gathering ingredients to make chilaquiles.
“Do you need me to run to the store?” I asked.
“No, mija. Holt said he’d pick up whatever I needed when he returns later.”
“He’s a good man,” I said, resting against the counter.
My father’s eyes met mine. “He loves you and Luna very much.”
I raised a brow. “He cares about us. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it love.”
He pulled out a chair at the table. “Sit before you collapse on me.”
I didn’t argue. I wasn’t sure I had the energy to walk up the stairs again.
“He feels the same as I did about your mother. I fell in love with Mary Grace the first time I saw her.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up a hand.
“There’s nothing to argue about, Keltie. If you don’t feel it yet, you soon will.”
“I—” Before I could say more, I heard Luna calling for me. I kissed my father’s cheek, then raced up the steps and sat beside her on the bed. “I’m here, sweetheart.”
“Mommy, do you think Mr. Holt could be my daddy?”
I’d say her question surprised me, but it didn’t. Given how close they were, I’d expected her to ask sooner.
“He’s a very special friend to us, Luna-bug.”
“But I want him to be more.”
I stroked her cheek with my finger. “I know, but for now, let’s accept he’s an important part of our lives and take it one day at a time.”
She sighed and turned to her side. “He said the same thing.”
I stifled a gasp. “Sweetheart, did you ask him to be your daddy?”
Luna shook her head. “No.”
I didn’t say “good” out loud, but I sure felt relief she hadn’t.
“But I asked him if he was going to marry you. Actually, when.”
I stretched out beside her and gathered her in my arms. “One day at a time,” I whispered.
That was where and how Holt found us later.
“Sorry I woke you,” he whispered. “I wanted to let you know I’m headed over to the Goat.”
“I’ll go with you.” I eased out from under Luna. “Mind if we run out for a few minutes?” I said to my father, who was unpacking the groceries Holt had delivered. “We won’t be long.”
He waved his hand without looking up. “Go. We’re fine here.”
When we arrived at the bar, it appeared empty from outside. Inside, the after-work crowd huddled at the bar while Miguel cleaned and stocked glasses. Faces turned when I entered, conversations halting mid sentence.
“Keltie.” Miguel abandoned his towel, moving around the bar to hug me.
“How can I ever thank you?” I asked, surveying how amazing the place looked.
He shrugged. “You’d do it for any of us.”
I walked through the familiar space, noting things I’d never paid attention to before—the way the light hit the shelves filled with bottles and the worn path in the hardwood from the entrance to the bathrooms. My space. My territory.
A large poster near the stage caught my eye. “Valentine’s Day Benefit,” it read in bold type across the top. Luna’s name was underneath in smaller letters, followed by “Crested Butte’s Fierce Fighter.” Local band names filled the lower third, with “Headliner: TBA” prominent at the center.
I stood motionless, fingers hovering near the paper without touching it.
“Flynn’s work,” Miguel said, coming to stand beside Holt and me. “The amphitheater agreed to host. Restaurants are covering the food. Tickets go on sale tomorrow.”
“This is—” Words failed me again as my fingertips traced Luna’s name.
Holt wrapped his arm around my shoulders when Miguel went behind the bar. “I’ll get set up to play tonight unless there’s something else you need me to do.”
“One thing,” I responded.
“Name it.”
I took his hand and let him to the office. “Easier to show you,” I said, closing the door behind us once we were inside. As if he’d read my mind, his hands found my face, he cupped my jawline, and his mouth met mine hard.
My body responded instantly, my fingers weaving in his hair, pulling him closer. The sense of urgency I felt surprised me, but I couldn’t let go of him. I looked into his eyes. “Stay with me tonight?”
“You know I will, Keltie.”
“I mean in my bed.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
A sharp knock interrupted us, and Holt moved away reluctantly, opening the door to Miguel’s apologetic face.
“Sorry. Something you need to see.” He pointed toward a cluster of people hunched over a phone at the bar.
We followed, curious. A regular—Dave or Dan, I could never remember—held his cell up as we approached.
“Look at this.”
The screen showed a social media post from Ben, saying CB Rice would be headlining Luna’s benefit concert.
“Did you know?” I turned to Holt, searching his face.
He looked genuinely surprised. “No. He didn’t mention anything.”
“We’ll sell out in an hour,” Miguel predicted, scrolling through the comments that were posting faster than we could read them.
My brain struggled to process the information. CB Rice played arenas, not small-town benefits. Seconds later, the front door banged open. Stacey from McGill’s burst in, clutching her phone like a winning lottery ticket.
“Have you seen?” Her words tumbled out. “Everyone’s talking about it!”
“Just now,” I managed.
“That’s not all,” she continued breathlessly. “Tickets went on sale four minutes ago. It’s already sold out, and I heard Ben suggested adding a second night.”
“Told you,” said Miguel with a broad smile.
Holt’s hand found the small of my back, steadying me.
“We’re doing a raffle,” Stacey added. “Hardware store’s giving a generator. Ski resort donated season passes. We’ve got slope-side condos, other vacation packages, and gift certificates from everywhere from here to Salida. The list keeps growing.”
My throat constricted. “Why would everyone—”
“Because we take care of our own,” she said simply. “Gotta run. More calls to make!” She vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.
Holt squeezed my shoulder. “I need to get started,” he said, but instead of heading straight to the stage, he guided me to a quieter corner near the office. “You okay?”
“Processing,” I admitted. “It’s a lot.”
His thumb brushed my cheek, coming away damp. I hadn’t realized I was crying.
When he finally moved toward the stage, I took a seat at the bar. Miguel slid water toward me without asking. The room quieted as Holt adjusted his microphone and tuned his guitar.
“Hey, everybody,” he said, his voice filling the space. “For those who don’t know, Luna came home today.” He paused, fingers hovering over the strings. “I wrote this song for her and her mama, but it seems fitting that I play it for the first time tonight.”
I turned around to face him, barely breathing as he played the opening cords then started to sing. The song told of a unicorn with healing powers who got sick herself. It spoke of stars and invisible strength, of darkness that couldn’t extinguish certain kinds of light. He’d transformed Luna’s ordeal—the needles, the machines, the fear—into something a child could grasp without terror.
Tears came freely now as he sang the final verse, his eyes finding mine across the room. Through the worst moments of my life, Holt had remained steady. He’d made Luna laugh when nothing else could. He’d become part of our little family.
The music faded, and applause filled the silence. I sat motionless, aware that tomorrow would bring medication schedules, doctor follow-ups, and everything to do with illness management. But tonight, in this moment, I felt more than fear and uncertainty. I felt hope.
Holt’s gaze held mine across the room, a question in his eyes I couldn’t answer aloud yet. As he began his next song, I didn’t look away. Somehow, I knew he understood.
I stayed another hour, letting the bar’s familiar rhythms wash over me. Finally, gathering my resolve, I said good night to Miguel, waved to Holt, and headed home.
I found my father and Luna hidden in a blanket fort that took up half the living room. Flashlights illuminated their faces from below as they read from one of her books.
“Mommy!” Luna called. “Come sit in our fort!”
I crawled through the makeshift entrance, careful not to dislodge the chair supporting one corner.
“Quite an engineering feat,” I said, settling beside them.
“We could sleep here tonight,” Luna suggested, eyes bright.
My father shrugged. “My spine says no, but don’t let that stop you two.”
“We’ll see,” I hedged. The floor’s appeal had diminished significantly after weeks of hospital chair sleeping. Not to mention, I had every intention of holding my body close to Holt’s tonight, and not even my beloved daughter’s pleading could get me to abandon that plan.
We spent the evening in that cloth cave, my father recounting embarrassing stories from my childhood that made Luna demand more. I had to wonder how many were actually true. Laughter filled our house again, something I’d feared might be a long time coming.
