INKED LINES // H.S.

Chapter 15

"I don't remember what it's like not to feel broken."

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Adilyn's POV

No matter how hard I try I can't shut my mind off. Without the distraction of the day, my thoughts are left to run wild.

I squeeze my eyes closed more firmly hoping the action will force sleep my way, but to no avail. I roll over in bed, switching my position to curl up on my other side, blankets pulled high around my neck.

Mila's slow breathing fills the room informing me of her sound slumber.

How lucky.

It's been over an hour and I have been tossing and turning but I can't seem to relax. In the darkness of the room, my determined effort to keep up my light-hearted facade is faltering, letting my sadness drift to the surface.

Seeing Caroline again today, meeting her heartbroken eyes once more, I physically felt her pain, her loss. She was so young, too young to deal with such pain.

She was still trying to process what had happened and I can't stop replaying her grieving cries through my head. I had prepared a memory box for her, filled with keepsakes to help her adjust to the loss and help hold her baby in her heart forever. The grief on her face had broken my heart, it was almost too much for me to take, too familiar.

I can't stop thinking about how she would have to return to a lonely apartment, to an empty nursery. It was just her and her baby up against the world. Now it was just her and the enormous grief that weighed down on her shoulders.

I sit up in bed, eyes fluttering open, attempting desperately to push the thoughts away.

I need an escape.

I need a distraction.

I need to forget.

Before I can even think about what I'm doing, my legs are swinging out of bed, my body creeping passed Mila silently as I exit our room. The night air is chilly on my bare legs, the red shorts I'm wearing creeping up as I walk down the hallway. I look down and straighten my tank top which had twisted uncomfortably from my restless movements in bed.

Nerves start to prickle in my stomach.

What am I doing?

My feet pad silently along the hallway as I make my way down to the end of it. My knuckles hover over the familiar door, hesitating a moment before they tap lightly against the wood.

I stand there waiting, bobbing up and down on my toes nervously. Just when I'm about to turn away, the door swings open and Harry stands before me in nothing but loose black shorts. His hand rubs at his eyes sleepily for a moment before confusion takes over his face as he takes me in standing there.

"Adi?" He questions, voice hoarse from sleep. The nickname sends butterflies swirling in my stomach.

He's never called me that before.

I'm not sure what brought me here in the first place, but the way in which his shorts hang devilishly low on his hips suddenly assures me that I made the right decision. I can see the clear outline of muscle as it leads in a delicious V-line towards the waistband of his pants. But what makes the sight even more enticing is the two large fern leaves inked into the skin between the lines of muscle.

Without any more hesitation, I launch myself forward, body colliding with his chest as my arms quickly circle around his neck and I slam my lips against his.