Page 44 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

“Mommy packed our bag,” Luna announced at large, breaking whatever spell had momentarily entranced me. “We have to go home today.”

A chorus of disappointed sounds erupted from around the table. Sam was the first to speak.

“So soon?” she protested.

“The Goat reopens tonight,” I explained, feeling strangely defensive about our departure. “And we’ve already imposed enough?—”

“You haven’t imposed at all,” Flynn interrupted firmly. “We’ve loved having you both here.”

I looked out the window at the clear day, knowing we had to leave, but wishing we could stay.

“Just let me know when you’re ready,” Holt said, his voice casual, though something in his eyes wasn’t. “There are things I need to take care of in town. Then I was thinking maybe we could go to the Secret Stash for lunch; that’s if you’re hungry by then.”

Luna pushed her plate in my direction. “I’m full, Mommy. Do you want the rest?”

“You haven’t had five bites.”

She sighed at me like she had earlier. “YouknowStash pizza is my weakness. Plus, I want to show Mr. Holt my room at home.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Luna, I’m sure Mr. Holt did say he had things to take care of?—”

“They can wait,” he interjected, a smile tugging at his lips. “Got nothing but time for my favorite girls.”

From across the table, Buck snorted into his coffee while TJ elbowed him discreetly. I felt my cheeks warm, aware that everyone was watching our exchange with barely concealed interest.

After breakfast, Luna went to play with the twins one last time while Flynn prepared several containers for us to take home.

“Leftovers,” she explained, setting them in front of me. “And I packed the Christmas cookies Luna helped make yesterday. I thought she might want to show them off at home.”

Tears pricked unexpectedly at my eyes. “That’s so thoughtful. Thank you.”

“And this,” she added, placing a small wrapped package beside the containers, “is a little something from all of us. A memory of your time here.”

“I feel terrible that I didn’t bring anything for any of you,” I protested, embarrassed by their generosity.

TJ smiled from across the table. “Your being here was gift enough. This place needed new energy, and you two brought it.”

“Tell you what. Name the day and time, and I’ll host all of you for dinner at the Goat.”

“You don’t have to do that?—”

“Yes, she does,” argued Irish, interrupting her. “Their prime rib is the best in town.”

Flynn glared at him, and he kissed her cheek.

“Other than yours of course, sweetheart.”

Goodbyes were lengthy and emotional. Sam hugged me tightly as we prepared to leave.

“Don’t forget about our coffee,” she whispered.

“I won’t,” I promised, surprised by how much I wanted to maintain this newfound connection. “And you don’t forget about dinner at the Goat.”

I expected tears from Luna as we finally headed out to Holt’s truck, our bags and gifts loaded inside, but she seemed content knowing she’d see everyone again. Perhaps the presence of Holt beside us eased the transition, a piece of the Wheaton family coming with us.

The drive to town was quick with the cleared roads. Luna chattered excitedly the entire way, recounting Christmas highlights and begging to go sledding again with the twins and Buckaroo. Holt caught my eye when she asked, and I promised we’d see about doing it again when the snow was fresh.

When we pulled up to my house, Luna was out of her booster seat and climbing out of the truck before I’d even unbuckled my seat belt. Holt grabbed our bags and followed us up the walkway, snow crunching beneath our boots.

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