Page 5 of A Rancher's Love

“We’re Stones,” Ginny said firmly, even though her voice hitched a little. “Wearestrong.”

Caleb’s lips curled into the first smile Tucker had seen in the past few days. “We are Stones. But I don’t want us tojustbe stones, rocks on a mountain. We still need to have fun, although I know that doesn’t sound easy right now.” His gaze skipped to Dustin. “Families have fun together, and I’ll definitely need your help to remember that.”

“Skipping stones,” Luke suggested. “Stacking stones into alien creatures. Stone artwork.”

Walker scowled. “What are you talking about?”

Luke shrugged. “Caleb said stones have fun. He’s right. I can think of lots of things, when the time is right.”

Before him, Tucker saw the family begin to pull together.

“Stone soup,” Dare suggested. “That’s one of my favourite books.”

“There’s a book about making soup from stones?” Dustin looked horrified, glancing at the remainder of the soup in the bowl in front of him.

Ginny and Dare exchanged glances then nodded firmly.

“I bet we can get that book from the library,” Ginny told Dustin. “Once we do, you and I can make stone soup.”

The youngest Stone sibling looked suspicious, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Caleb laid a hand on Ginny’s arm, squeezing gently as he gave her a nod of approval.

Transition had begun. Tucker took a deep breath and hoped things would continue the best way possible under the circumstances.

That night, he slipped out of his uncle’s rooms and returned to the family homestead to grab a bag he’d forgotten. He stepped through the back door, and the barest of noises pulled his attention to the right.

Ginny stood in the laundry room, shoulders shaking. Huge, silent tears poured down her cheeks.

Tucker didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance instantly and held her close. This was the semi-little-sister he’d run wild with for years. The one who’d messed with his tent pegs and broken his bike. Who’d resolutely fought to keep up with whatever harebrained stunt he and Luke were attempting, no matter that she was a foot and a half shorter and weighed half as much as they did. Fearless, stubborn to a fault…

Now crying with what sounded like a broken heart, and it was killing him because there was nothing he could do to make it better. No words to say, no reassurances.

She wiggled closer and pressed her teary face against his chest. “I hurt inside.”

It came out so shaky they sounded like twelve words instead of three.

“I know,” he whispered. “It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to cry. Hell, it’s okay to scream if you need to, but that one we won’t do in the house because it might scare Dustin.”

She hiccupped. A small laugh mixed in with the tears.

He patted her back and held her, standing in the clean-scented room, with reminders everywhere still of Deb, of Walter. Reminders of the past that was gone.

Tucker stood and held Ginny, and something inside him twisted with a brand-new understanding.

Silver Stone wasn’t simply a place he came and visited every summer. These weren’t just people he had in his life for a short time and then moved on. Losing Deb and Walter Stone meant seeing how much more important it was to not only treasure the things he had, but to treasure the things he wanted to have.

He wanted his friendships to stay strong.

He wanted people like the Stones in his life forever.

Down the road, he wanted a relationship like Walter and Deb had shared, not a cold and broken one like his parents had, based on unending unhappy compromises.

Ginny took another shuddering breath before loosening her hug. Resting her forehead on his chest, she stared at the floor. “I’m sorry I lost it like that. I won’t do it again.”

“Damn it, Ginny.” Tucker lifted her face to his, examining her carefully. Tears were there, but determination as well. As if she were preparing for whatever battle would come next. “You don’t need to be strong all the time.”

“I do,” she insisted. “I won’t let my family come apart. I won’t let Mom and Dad down.” Strong like her name. Ginny stepped back and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Iwilldo this. You’ll see.”