Page 99 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

Bridger gestured for us to follow him. “This way. Stay on the path.”

We moved in silence through the trees, the tall pines filtering the late-afternoon sunlight that dappled the ground.

The clearing opened before us, and in its center was a small tombstone, weathered by time yet clearly maintained. We gathered around it, speechless as we read the inscription carved into the granite.

Scarlett Blanche Wheaton

Born March 15, 1993

Died December 18, 1993

Forever Our Angel

Buck wasthe first to break the silence, his voice rough with emotion. “She was our sister,” he said, kneeling down to run his fingers over the words carved into the stone.

He was right. This was our sister—born between Buck and Porter, who lived less than a year. I knew without it being said aloud that she’d died of leukemia.

As I touched the cold stone with trembling fingers like Buck had, tears ran down my cheeks. This discovery explained so much—the connection between our family, the mysterious trust, and the charity with its scarlet blanket logo. Everything connected to this tiny grave and the sister none of us ever knew about. As I stood to leave, the haunting melody I’d played at the Goat‚ to one both Keltie and I seemed to know but not where from, echoed in my mind. Had it been something my mother sang to all of us?

27

KELTIE

Iwas pulling ingredients from the refrigerator when I heard the doorbell ring. The sharp sound cut through the quiet house, startling me. We weren’t expecting anyone—Holt had texted that he’d been delayed by something with his family but would be here as soon as he could. Either way, he would’ve walked in.

“I’ll get it,” my father called from the living room, where he’d been reading the newspaper while Luna colored at the coffee table.

I heard the front door open, followed by my father’s voice, low and unwelcoming. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Keltie.” The voice that responded sent ice through my veins.Remi.

“She’s not available,” my father replied firmly. “You should leave.”

I hurried toward the entryway and watched Remi shove past my father. His expression was hard and determined, so different from the charming facade he’d once used to win me over.

“Keltie,” he said when he spotted me. “We need to talk.”

My father moved to block him. “I told you to leave.”

“Dad, it’s okay,” I said, though it was anything but. “What do you want, Remi?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but his gaze shifted past me, into the living room, where Luna sat cross-legged on the floor, crayons scattered around her, completely oblivious to the tension unfolding mere feet away.

The color drained from his face. He stared at Luna, his eyes widening with recognition. I saw it happen—the exact moment he realized she was his daughter. His lips parted, but no sound emerged.

Luna looked up then, her crayon pausing mid stroke as she noticed the stranger in our entryway. Her innocent gaze swept over him with mild curiosity before returning to her coloring book.

Sam and Beau came out of the kitchen, where they’d been helping me throw a casual dinner together. Beau’s expression darkened when he spotted Remi.

“What are you doing here?” Beau demanded, stepping forward.

Sam put a restraining hand on his arm and motioned to Luna, who looked up again at the harshness of Beau’s voice. He took a deep breath. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the sheriff.”

Remi seemed not to hear him, his attention still fixed on Luna. I moved between them, blocking his view.

“You need to go,” I said quietly. “This isn’t the time or place.”

Something flickered in his eyes—shock, recognition, maybe even a hint of emotion I’d never seen from him before. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

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