"I love you." He says it simply, like it's the easiest thing in the world. "I love your resilience. I love your fire. I love how hard you work to be independent, even when accepting help would be simpler. I love watching you fight for your degree, for your future, for yourself." He brushes hair back from my face. "I love you, Sloane. Not the situation. Not the babies, though I love them too. You. The woman who won't let anyone—including me—tell her who she should be."
My chest feels too tight. "Tucker?—"
"It doesn't scare me," he continues. "Your independence, your strength, the way you push back when I try to take over—none of it scares me. It makes me want to be better. Want to be worthy of you."
"I love you too." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "I love how you think about what I need before I know I need it. I love that you see me trying to be independent and you don't try to fix it, you just... make sandwiches and buy the right kind of prenatal vitamins and leave books around the apartment that you think I'd like." I'm crying again. "I love your thoughtfulness, and it scares me because I've never had someone care like this. Care about me, not just what I can give them or who they want me to be."
"Sloane—"
"I love you," I say again, stronger this time. "Not your apartment or your money or your ability to provide for us. I love you. Tucker Stag. The man who fights on the ice to protect his teammates. The man who left a game to be here, even though I told the hospital to keep you out." My voice breaks. "I love you and I'm terrified of losing myself, but I'm more terrified of losing you."
He leans in then, his forehead resting against mine. "You're not going to lose yourself. And you're not going to lose me."
"How do you know?"
"Because we're going to figure it out together." He pulls backenough to meet my eyes. "Not my way. Our way. You tell me what you need, and I'll support that. Really support it, not just say the words while secretly trying to make you dependent on me."
"I need to be Sloane," I whisper. "Not Tucker's girlfriend or the mother of your babies. Just... Sloane."
"I know. And I'm going to remember that this time. I promise." He kisses my forehead, gentle and sweet. "You're Sloane, who happens to be pregnant. Not pregnant, Sloane. There's a difference."
"There is."
"And Sloane, who happens to be pregnant, is fucking incredible." He grins. "Even when she puts me on a hospital restricted visitor list."
I laugh, the sound watery but real. "I'm sorry about that."
"Don't be. You were scared and trying to protect yourself." He shifts carefully, mindful of the monitors and IV. "But Sunshine? Next time you're scared? Call me anyway. Let me be scared with you."
"What if I can't?"
"Then I'll wait until you're ready." His voice is matter-of-fact. "That's what I did tonight. Sat there with Odin and my dad until you asked for me."
"You sat on the floor?"
"For hours." He shrugs. "Would have sat there all night if that's what it took."
Fresh tears spill over. "Tucker?—"
"I'm all in, Sloane. Completely, terrifyingly all in. I'll wait as long as you need. I'll give you space when you ask for it. I'll be here when you're ready to let me in." He takes both my hands in his. "I'm not going anywhere. Even when you try to push me away."
"I don't want to push you away anymore."
"Good. Because I'm pretty stubborn about staying where I'm wanted."
"Even when I'm a mess?"
"Especially when you're a mess." He kisses my knuckles. "That's when you need me most. Even if you won't admit it."
I stare at him—this man who left a game, risked his career, sat on a hospital floor for two hours, all for me. For us.
"I need you," I say quietly. "I don't know how to do this without disappearing, but I need you. Is that okay?"
"It's more than okay." He stands, toeing off his sneakers. "Scoot over."
"Tucker, there's not enough room?—"
"There's plenty of room." He's already moving, carefully climbing onto the narrow hospital bed beside me. The monitors protest slightly as I shift, but he's gentle, mindful of the wires and IV.
