In Sequence | H.S.

27.

Harry.

The memories of the last time I was wrapped in these sheets didn't allow me to get more than half a night's sleep. The smell of regret and Dolce and Gabbana perfume that lingered in the sheets kept me up half of the night. It's funny, the same perfume I used to associate with arousal now just causes my stomach to turn and a pounding in my head, but nothing was worse than knowing that Madelyn was down the hall, entangled in my bed sheets without me.

I could've stayed. I would've if she had asked. I should've stayed anyway.

But I didn't.

And I'm sure she didn't either.

Her habit of departing early left me without feeling the need to freshen up before I head downstairs. Without her to impress, the anxiety of finding a solid lie about where she is takes priority over my appearance. How the hell does she expect me to explain why she left without saying goodbye to my family?

"She had to go pick up Ella from the airport." I mumble under my breath, rehearsing an excuse. I don't know if anyone would buy it. Fuck, did she mention that Ella was with Miles? Did that come up at all? Nobody ever warns you about the dangers of drinking and lying. "She needed to go home for a change of clothes?" I mutter again as I start descending down the staircase, the cold hardwood flooring shocking the hangover out of my body.

A melodic laugh lingers through the living room and almost sends my ass falling down the staircase. My pulse doubles in speed when I catch a glimpse of Madelyn on the couch with Gemma, bonding over a cup of coffee. My brows furrow in confusion, but when we lock eyes by pure accident, her endearing smile melts away all of the tension from my muscles.

She stayed.

She's back in the jeans she wore last night, but she has one of my sweatshirts draping off of her shoulders, engulfing her small frame in inches of oversized fabric. I stop in my tracks at the bottom of the staircase with a stupid grim slapped across my face, my mind mentally photographing how stunning she looks in my clothes.

"Sound an alarm before you come out here half naked, would you?" Gemma fakes a gagging noise and shields her hands over her eyes. Mads giggles at the comment, but her eyes stay locked on mine. They don't falter or skim my torso, but the blush pooling in the apples of her cheeks tells me that she's fond of seeing me wearing nothing but gray sweatpants rolled at my waistline, fern leaf tattoos peering out.

"There's a hotel down the street if you crave that much privacy." I remind my sister of my generosity, ruffling up her freshly styled hair with my hand in passing. "Otherwise, my house, my dress code."

Gemma rolls her eyes, probably deeming it too early to engage in a fight with me as she swats my hand away. "Morning, Rosie." I feel my sister's eyes watching us intensely, a smile toying at the corners of her mouth. The show must go on, or whatever the saying is. I lean over the back of the couch and dip down to press a quick kiss to Maddy's forehead.

"Hi, H." She whispers through a smile, eyes wildly anticipating more. I blink once to see if I've missed the hurt in her eyes, but there is none. After my remark about Paige, I was expecting to go back to having no communication with her. At the very least, I didn't expect her to still be here.

"This is a nice surprise." I make a subtle dig in disguise, gently cupping her chin in my hand as she glances over her shoulder at me. Her eyes drop down in obvious understanding of what I meant, but I tip her chin up slowly. I didn't anticipate getting to look into those pretty eyes this morning, there's no chance in hell I'm letting her look away now. "I thought you hated wearing anything with my number on it." After a quick save, I nod towards the sweatshirt she has on. It's part of our warmup gear from last season, so nothing flashy, but it has the Bruins logo and our jersey number embroidered on the chest.