Page 61 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

She glanced at her watch. “When did she last eat?”

“Maybe two hours ago? She had ice cream before her fever spiked.”

“In that case, we’ll proceed with local anesthetic instead of sedation. We don’t want to wait.” Dr. Robbins looked between Holt and me. “Both parents can be in the room with her, but you’ll need to wear scrubs. Since we’re not putting her under, it’ll help if you keep her distracted. She won’t feel pain from the procedure, but she might be scared.”

I opened my mouth to correct her assumption about Holt, but stopped. The technicality didn’t matter. What mattered was Luna having both of us with her.

“Let us know what we need to do,” Holt said without hesitation.

As Dr. Robbins left to prepare, Holt turned to me. “You don’t have to explain who I am or am not to her right now. This isn’t about paperwork or biology.”

Relief and gratitude washed over me. “Thank you.”

In the procedure room, Luna lay on her side while Holt distracted her with stories about Sparkles and magical butterflies. His steady voice and animated storytelling kept her attention away from what the doctors were doing. The procedure was quick, but watching that needle slide into my daughter’s hip was one of the most difficult things I’d ever endured. Without Holt there, I’m not sure I could have maintained my composure.

Once in her room, the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with my little girl. She fell asleep clutching Bunny. Thankfully, the antibiotics and fever reducers had brought her temperature down.

I watched her sleep, the weight of what might be coming pressing on my chest until I could barely breathe. A strangled sound escaped me—not quite a sob, but close.

Warm arms wrapped around me from behind, turning me gently until my face was pressed against Holt’s chest. He led me outside the door, holding me tightly. Only then did I let go, tears soaking his shirt as I clung to him.

“What if—” I couldn’t finish the thought.

“Shh,” he murmured against my hair. “We’ll handle each challenge as it comes.”

I breathed in the scent of him, letting it anchor me in the moment.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here,” I whispered.

His arms tightened around me. “You’d be just as strong, just as brave.”

We stayed that way until a nurse stepped around us on her way into the room to check Luna’s vitals. After she had, she adjusted her IV and slipped out again.

It wasclose to eleven when my father arrived. I spotted him in the doorway of Luna’s room. His eyes moved from her sleeping form to me, and in that moment, I was five years old again, running to him with a scraped knee.

“Papa,” I whispered, crossing the room to fall into his arms.

“Oh, Keltie,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. He held me tightly before releasing me to approach Luna’s bedside. The sight of his vibrant granddaughter pale against the hospital sheets seemed to age him a decade in seconds.

“She’s been sleeping peacefully,” I said softly. “Her fever’s down.”

My dad gently touched Luna’s curls at the same time Holt rose from the chair in the corner.

My father turned and extended his hand. “Victor Marquez.”

“Holt Wheaton. Good to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Abuelo?”Luna’s sleepy voice interrupted the moment. Her eyes brightened when she spotted my father. “You came!”

Dad’s face transformed into a smile. “Of course I did,mi corazón. Nothing could keep me away.”

Luna smiled at both men. “Mr. Holt was telling me about unicorns talking to butterflies,” she told her grandfather.

“Is that so?” Dad raised a brow at Holt, who shrugged with a sheepish smile.

“They had interesting conversations,” Holt confirmed seriously. “These were very philosophical butterflies.”

Luna giggled, the sound so normal, so precious, that tears pricked my eyes again.

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