Suddenly, Alder's voice cuts through the sound of the water.
"Tuck?"
I straighten immediately, swiping at my face like that will hide anything. "I'm fine. Just?—"
"You're crying in the shower." Alder appears in the doorway, his expression somewhere between concerned and determined. "Fully clothed. You want to tell me that's fine?"
"Go away, Alder."
"Not a chance." He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Talk to me, Fucker.”
"There's nothing to?—"
"Bullshit." His voice is firm.
He turns off the water, and I stand there dripping, my base layers plastered to my skin. "I fucked up, man.”
He nods. “Okay. Tell me and we’ll fix it. That’s what we do, right?”
I shake my head, water droplets flying off me. “Not this time.” My teeth start chattering, and my brother wraps me in his arms. I should care that I’m drenching him in a gross shower. I should care that he’s probably come here fresh from banging his dentist, and now I’m a mess and interrupting his mojo. But instead, I just cry into his shirt while he pats my back.
“Is this about Sloane?” He holds me at arm’s length and tilts his head til he can meet my eyes.
I shrug. “Yes and no. I…um.” I blow out a breath and close my eyes. I can’t even look at him when I say this. “She’s pregnant.”
He produces a noise somewhere in between a whoop and a question mark. “No. Way.”
“With twins.” I sink back onto the floor of the shower with a squelch as Alder starts to laugh maniacally.
“Twins!” He gestures between us. “We’ve got mutant sperm, don’t we? Where we only duplicate? Or something?” Alder sits beside me with a laugh. “But okay, this isn’t likecry in the showerbad. Babies are kind of awesome.”
I shake my head and tell him everything. About the dinner with our parents, about how they overwhelmed her with schedules and plans, about how she said she can't lose herself again like she did in her marriage.
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
Alder is quiet for a long moment, and I brace for judgment or lecture or I-told-you-so. Instead, he stands and pulls me up with him, both of us embracing in the shower stall, me still soaking wet.
He rests his forehead against mine and laughs quietly. “You’re a dad.”
I nod. “I’m going to be a dad.”
Alder slaps the tile, the sound echoing through the locker room. "You're going to be okay," he says quietly. "We'll figure this out."
The comfort of my twin—my other half—is almost too much. I hug him back, feeling some of the tension in my chest loosen.
"I don't know how to be a dad," I admit. "I don't know how to prove to Sloane that I'm not going to disappear or let her down. I don't know how to?—"
"Hey." Alder pulls back, hands on my shoulders. "You're already doing it. Showing up. Trying. That's what matters."
"But she won't let me."
"Then you keep trying. Keep showing up. Even if she doesn't respond." He squeezes my shoulders. "That's what Stags do. We don't give up."
"When did you get so wise?"
"I've always been the smarter twin." He grins, then sobers. "But Tucker, you need to tell the team. Or at least talk to Coach. Before Grentley finds out another way."
