The word settles over us like a blanket. Together. Not him taking care of me. Not me doing it alone. Together.
My eyes are getting heavy. The exhaustion of the day—the fear, the pain, the emotional rollercoaster—is catching up with me.
"Sleep," Tucker murmurs. "I've got you."
"You can't stay in this bed all night. We’ll all lose circulation in our limbs.”
“A few more minutes.”
“The nurses will kick you out.” I try to wriggle, but there is no space.
"Let them try." I can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm pretty good at fighting."
I want to argue. Want to tell him to go home, get rest, take care of himself.
But instead, I let myself drift. Let myself be held. Let myself need him without losing myself.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.
CHAPTER 34
TUCKER
Sloane’s bloodpressure is better, but Dr. Patel says she needs to stay on bed rest until the babies arrive. Like it or not, she is about to receive the full Stag family care committee.
I know we come on strong, and as soon as my parents convinced me to leave the hospital to get supplies, I gave them a stern talking-to about their enthusiasm.
Now I’m back to pick up my sunshine and our two internal daughters. Daughters! Who knew a Stag even had X chromosome sperm?
I poke my head into Sloane’s room to make sure the coast is clear. She’s perched on the edge of the bed, staring down at her belly with a gorgeous smile on her face.
“Hey, fam.” I step in and walk to sit beside her. “You ready for this?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I have to be, right?”
“That’s the word on the street.” Mel and my cousin Pete have things arranged so that I’m only doing games and practices in Pittsburgh until the babies arrive. Which means I have about an hour and a half before I have to head back up to the hockey complex.
I place a hand on her thigh, giving it a squeeze, hoping that’s reassuring and not titillating since Dr. Patel said sex is absolutely off the menu. “Which Stags do you find least annoying?”
She rolls her eyes. “They’re not annoying, Tucker. They’re just …”
I laugh. “We’re a lot. It’s okay. But I want to make sure you have people to wait on you.”
We go through my long list of relatives as the patient care tech wheels Sloane out to the car. We talk about temperaments and cooking skills, and Sloane surprises me when she says, “Is your dad okay to hang out till you get home from practice?”
My grin feels like it’s going to split my face bruises wide open. “Hell yeah, he is. Great choice, Sloane. Ty Stag is gonna love on you like crazy.”
When I get home from practice, Dad has set up the loft for maximum efficiency. Sloane has a rolling cart with electronics, her school supplies, and very fancy Stanley cups full of electrolyte drinks.
My fridge is bursting with ready-to-eat meals from Aunt Alice in tiny portions for pregnancy cravings.
There is more lotion in my bedroom than in the skincare aisle at Sephora.
Dad kisses me on the cheek with a salute and slips out through the elevator when I drop my bag, so I crawl into bed beside my … well, I don’t have a noun yet for Sloane.
She looks at me with amusement. “Good practice?”
I shrug. “Coach is irritated that he has to tweak his lineup. And Grentley is being nice to me, which feels like a trap.”
