Chapter 34
TUCKER
Sloane’s blood pressure 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.”
She nods. “I’m back to online lectures. It’s like early lockdown days.”
“But better, because there will be babies,” I offer, reaching out for the churning belly where I can see the babies’ little limbs poking out.
We lie in comfortable silence. I can feel the babies moving under my hand on her belly. Strong, healthy movements that make my chest tight.
Sloane moans appreciatively at my touch. “You’re always so warm.”
“Yeah.”
She places her hand over mine. “What are we going to name them?"
I smile. "I don't know. What do you want to name them?"
"Something strong. Something that means they can handle whatever life throws at them."
"Like their mother."
"And their father." She tilts her head to look at me. "I think you're the best man I've ever known. And I think I'm really lucky. And I think I'm still terrified but less terrified than I was yesterday."
"That's progress."
"Yeah." She yawns. "It is."
"Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She falls asleep within minutes, her breathing evening out, her body relaxing completely against mine. I stay awake, watching her, feeling the babies move, thinking about how close I came to losing this.
I won't make that mistake again.
I only leave the apartment for work. There’s a small cluster of photographers outside my building and the arena, but that’s nothing new, and I avoid them all. I don’t need my face in the news right now. I have shit to take care of.
Sloane is acing her classes and planning to take the spring semester off. My uncle said everything was handled with my contract. Literally, my entire focus can be the hockey I’m able to play and my little family tucked away in my loft.
So I’m a little surprised to find my agent waiting outside the locker room when I show up for morning skate.
“We need to talk, T-Stag.” Brian tips his head toward a meeting room down the hall. I arch a brow but follow him, as he never waits around for stuff like small talk or typical greetings. He tosses a folder on the desk in the room. “Do you have any idea what's been happening?"
"I've been taking care of Sloane."
"Right. Which is why you haven't been on social media or watching the news or answering any calls." Brian turns a tablet to show me. "This is what's been happening."
I look at the screen. It's a news article. The headline reads: “Enforcer Walks Out Mid-Game for Family Emergency—Team Threatens His Job."
"What the hell?"
"Keep reading," Uncle Tim says.
I scroll. The article details everything—me leaving the Boston game, Coach's threats, Sloane in the hospital. There are quotes from anonymous teammates supporting me. References to the lack of family leave policies.
"Who leaked this?" I ask.
"Several people, apparently," Brian says. "Teammates, arena staff, hospital workers. The story went viral."
He swipes to show me more articles. Pictures. Reels. Videos. All of them supporting me, criticizing the team, calling out the league for punishing players who prioritize family.
"There's more," Brian says, “because of course your family is involved.”
He flicks to videos of my brothers and cousins, all Brian’s clients. My cousin Wyatt, who doesn’t even play sports in this country, stares into the camera in one video and says, “I am a soccer player, always, but I’m a man, too. And real men show up for their family.”
Alder, Gunnar, Wes… even my Uncle Hawk all made videos about the importance of being human. Of caring for family.
The videos have millions of views. Comments from other athletes, celebrities, regular people all echoing the same sentiment.
Brian swipes again.
More videos. More articles. More support.
"The entire world is Team Tucker," Brian says simply. "It's everywhere. Sports media, mainstream news, social media. People are calling for boycotts of Fury games until the league implements family leave policies."
I stare at the tablet, not quite processing. "I didn't ask for this."
“I know,” Brian says. "But it happened anyway. And Tucker? It's working."
"What do you mean?"
Brian grins and shakes his head. “Other guys are staying back with their sick partners and newborn babies. And I’ve got diaper companies calling me day and night, wanting your smug face on their packages. You’re a freaking poster child, and not for shitty condoms.”
My brain can't quite catch up. "What?"
Brian smiles. "You're rich as hell, you’re a trend setter, and after the kids are born, you get two entire weeks of leave. That’s really unprecedented, kid.”
"Two weeks?" It's not much, but it's something. I haven’t been home for two consecutive weeks in-season since I was four years old. I look at the tablet again, at all the support, all the attention. "Sloane is going to hate this."
Brian ruffles my hair. “The whole world is watching you choose this woman and your babies. You’re a heartthrob, and she’s a role model. She’ll be okay.”
Brian rushes away, shouting something about getting my signature later. And then it’s just … business as usual. I warm up, skate with the guys, and listen to Coach critique my form.
Grentley tips a nod at me like an eagle passing by. I shower, and I go home.
I find Sloane in bed, closing her laptop, looking tired but satisfied.
"How was class?" I ask.
"Good." She stretches carefully. "I think I can actually pull off finishing this semester."
"Of course you can." I sit on the edge of the bed. "You're brilliant."
"I don't know about brilliant, but I'm stubborn." She smiles. "It helps."
I kiss her and she lets me, and for a minute I forget about the rest of the world. But a sharp kick between our bodies reminds me of what I wanted to tell her. “So, have you been online lately?”
She snorts. “I’m stuck in bed full time. Yes, babe. I’ve been online.”
I pull back, surprised. “You’re not upset?”
She scoffs. “At my man being called a hero and an inspiration? No. I am not upset about that.” She pulls up her phone to a video of a bunch of dudes in college jerseys saying they didn’t think they could be dads AND hockey players. “It’s really hot, Tucker.”
“Mmm. Not too hot, though. We can’t do hot right now.”
She grins and tilts her head up to kiss me. It's soft, sweet, full of promise.
"I love you," she says when we break apart.
"I love you too." I settle her back against the pillows. "Now rest. Before I get hotter.”
"You're very bossy when you're changing professional sports culture.”
"Get used to it. I plan to be very present and very bossy for the foreseeable future."
She laughs. "I think I can handle that."
I stretch out beside her, pulling her carefully against me. My hand finds her belly, feeling the twins move.
"Hey, babies,” I say quietly. "Your mom and I are figuring this out. You just keep growing, okay? We'll handle the rest."
Sloane's hand covers mine. "We should probably give them actual names at some point."
"Probably." I grin. "But for now, we can call them nuggets and beans.”
"You're ridiculous."
"You love me anyway."
"I really do."
The reality of that, of Sloane safe in my arms, our babies growing strong, our future stretching out ahead of us—it feels so right.
I never thought anything would top the experience of winning a championship.
Of standing with my brothers and hoisting a trophy over my head.
Now that seems irrelevant when all I want to do is cuddle my family.
I’ve always had a huge family, but this little circle of people, right here in this bed with silk and curls and fierce determination … this lights my fire. And I don’t ever want to look away.