Page 34 of Roaring Fork Rockstar

“Excuse me,” she murmured, her voice barely audible above the holiday music playing through speakers.

I led Ben toward the library, my mind whirling with questions about why Keltie hadn’t mentioned knowing him, let alone working with the band. It nagged at me, making my skin prickle with unease.

Once we were alone, Ben’s jovial demeanor changed.

“I know about the situation with the trust, Holt,” he said, his voice gruff with sympathy. “Matt filled me in. It’s a raw deal, man.”

I sank into one of the armchairs, the aged leather stiff beneath my weight, and gestured for Ben to take the other. “It is what it is.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. “Nothing I can do to change it.”

“Remi’s being a dick about it,” he continued, running a hand over his bald head. “Already talking about your replacement, acting like you’re gone for good. But I want you to know something. CB Rice ismyband. When you’re ready to rejoin us, you’ll be welcome. I’ll make sure whoever fills in for you knows that’s all there is to it—just filling in.”

The offer stunned me, and warmth spread through my chest at this unexpected loyalty. “That’s really nice of you, Ben.” I swallowed hard.

He waved off my thanks. “You’re family, Holt.” Earnestness replaced his usual bravado. “There’s something else. Those new songs of yours we were discussing? I still want to talk about recording a few. But I respect if you want to keep others for your own album.”

“My own album?” I repeated. “That won’t be happening any time soon.” Without the money I’d make on tour, it would never become a reality.

“Why not? You’ve got the talent.” He grinned. “And you’re welcome to use our recording studio at the ranch anytime you want. State of the art, and it’s sitting there empty when we’re not using it.”

His offer left me speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll think about it,” Ben replied. “No rush. You’ve got a year, right?”

“Right,” I said, still somewhat dazed by the turn of events, by the door he was opening for me. “So, uh, does Remi know about the trust?” The thought of his reaction, if he did, made my stomach clench. He’d never been my biggest fan, and it would give him more ammunition to get rid of me.

Ben shook his head. “Not from me. Didn’t feel like it was my place to tell him. I’m not expecting you to tell him either, unless you want to.”

“Thanks, man,” I said, meaning it. “For everything.”

The conversation was at an end, but my mind kept drifting to Keltie, to the shock on her face at seeing Ben. I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I couldn’t help myself. “What happened with Keltie? Why’d she leave?”

Ben’s expression darkened. He shook his head slowly. “I wish I knew. Remi just showed up one day and said Keltie was gone, that he had to fire her. Wouldn’t elaborate about why.” A grimace crossed his face. “It bothered me then, and I still think about it occasionally, wishing I’d handled it differently. I should’ve pushed for answers, but you know how Remi gets.”

“I expected him to fire me more than once,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Ben chuckled, but there was little humor in it, more like resignation. “That’s the thing. Remi really liked Keltie. In fact”—he glanced toward the door, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper, the sudden quiet making me lean forward to catch his words—“I probably shouldn’t say anything, but I kind of got the impression the two were an item.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach, and my grip on the armrest tightened until my knuckles whitened.

“Maybe it went south,” Ben continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil, “and instead of being a stand-up guy, Remi let one of our best sound engineers go. Wouldn’t be the first time his personal life messed with the band.”

I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual despite the jealousy burning in my gut. “If I do record some music,” I said, forcing my tone to remain light, conversational, “would you recommend I ask Keltie to help produce it?”

“Absolutely,” Ben replied without hesitation.

“When did this all go down?” I asked, dreading the answer even as I needed to hear it.

Ben thought for a moment. “Let’s see… We were working on theFirestarteralbum. About five years ago.”

The timeline formed in my head with sickening clarity. If Luna was four now, and Keltie had left the tour pregnant, could Remi be Luna’s father? The little girl looked like her mother, with the same wild curls and expressive eyes, but now that I thought about it, there was something else that reminded me, uncomfortably, of Remi Gilbert.

I stood, needing to move, to breathe. “We should probably rejoin the others.”

Ben rose as well, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Remember what I said, Holt. The door’s open whenever you’re ready.”

When we came out of the library, Liv was waiting in the great room, silhouetted against the Christmas tree. “Ben, we should go. We have somewhere to be, remember?” Her pointed look suggested they’d discussed not staying too long.

Everyone exchanged goodbyes, the ritual of handshakes and hugs playing out against the backdrop of holiday decorations and the crackling fire. I noticed Keltie had returned, standing away from the group. Luna was behind her, playing with the twins. Her face was flushed with excitement, her curls even wilder than usual.

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