Master of Timing

Sullivan had called for an afternoon video session the day before Sidney got back into Pittsburgh. They had a game against the Sabres that night and Sid knew that all the trainers wanted the whole team to be on their game. Eichel was a rookie force to be reckoned with and no one wanted to take any chances by thinking it was going to be an "easy win".

Except, Sidney didn't get the message until he was back in Pittsburgh, his emails filtering through his phone like he'd been away on some desert island for a month, instead of in Canada for one day. 

So he cursed everything and rushed out of bed, already slightly regretting that his routine was so out of whack. First, no morning skate. Then information he should've known if he hadn't have been selfish and pissed off for twenty four hours.

“’Ello?”

"Flower, hey." He rushed around, picking up the first suit in his closet and picking a random tie to go with it. "Are you at the rink?"

A chuckle came through the line. “I am, Captain. Why aren't you?”

Marc-Andre knew exactly why Sid wasn't at the rink. And his tone told Sid that everyone else in the core knew it too. He braced himself for what he was inevitably going to walk into at the arena. 

"Fuck. I'm on my way."

“Oh I know. Sully’s already making eyes at your stall, so heads up.”

Sidney cursed again and hung up, throwing on the Amarni suit with far less care than what it actually deserved; shoving the tie into his pocket so that he could do it up at a traffic light that would turn red in an effort to stop him getting anywhere on time.

He made his way into the building once he'd beaten nearly every speed limit between his house to PPG, thanking his past self for forcing food into his stomach at 5AM when he couldn't sleep. He'd have to inhale his spaghetti while going over the tape in the video room.

He came around the corner of a hallway, relief rushing through him at the sight of the silver double doors leading to the Penguins locker room. Just as his hand reached the handle, he heard his surname from his left.

"Coach?" He tried for ambivalent, nodding at Mike who was standing there with both hands in his pockets. He nodded his head backwards and walked away, leaving Sidney to sigh and follow on, the chatter and noise from his team mates behind the doors fading away.

Mike's office at PPG was fairly close to the locker room, smaller than what most people would think but the Head Coach liked it that way; that he didn't want to have need for a big office on game days- that everyone should know what they're doing.

So the fact that Sidney walked in to see both Assistant Coaches waiting left him with a slight feeling of a knot in his stomach.

"Rick, Marts," he greeted, closing the door behind him. They smiled in a greeting, focused on their game sheets. Mike was leaning back against his desk, arms crossed against his chest.

"You ready?"

Sid raised an eyebrow. "For tonight? Yeah," he insisted, tucking his hands in his suit pockets. "We'll need all four lines going but yeah. I've got a good feeling."

Mike nodded. And then levelled him with a stare that was usually reserved for an OT that shouldn't have happened. 

"Their PP is unbeatable at the moment."

"Our PK is solid, coach. You've got a good system." And when that reasoning didn't seem to be enough, Sidney added: "We'll stay out of the bin."

"Good," came Sully's reply, after about the longest 10 seconds of Sid's life. As important as being Captain and the face of the franchise is to him, the team and the city, he was never particularly fond of one on one meetings. Reminded him too much of the talks he'd have with the Headmaster at Shattuck, about being dedicated and ignoring peer pressure and maintaining the schools' impeccable reputation. 

"Everything okay?" Rick asked, taking a break from whatever notes he had to go over. Sidney nodded, scratching at his jaw a little, the noise of the stubble filling the room. "You look..."

He didn't want to know how exhausted he looked. Because he didn't have a reasonable excuse to cover the "I flew to Edmonton to have a whole bunch of sex with my long distance girlfriend and it'll definitely be a miracle if I get through three periods without yawning because no, I did not 'rest' on my rest day" line he had in his head.

"Didn't get the best nights' sleep," he deferred, brushing off the concerned glances. "I'm fine."

That seemed to be enough to let him go, Jacques letting him know to see the trainers to warm up properly. He bolted as soon as possible, without making it seem like he was running.

"Ayyyyyy the prodigal son returns!" Kunitz cried out, leading to a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles and stick tape being hurled in his direction. He shook his head and stuck a finger up in the air, heading straight for his stall and loosening his tie before he sat down.

"Fuck you all."

"Awwh, cmon Cap! You're allowed to be late every now and again."

"Yeah," Kris piped up, wiggling his eyebrows. "Sometimes you just sleep in, y'know?"

"Especially when you're over tired," Duper teased, the both of them fist bumping before cracking up laughing at Sidney's face. He took their good natured ribbing in his stride, turning around to empty his wallet and phone out onto his shelf, working on getting his shoes off.

"Cros!" He turned at the sound of Mark Recchi, his eyes raised to show he was listening. "Hit the bikes for twenty when you're ready. I'll find you before you're done."

He nodded, reaching for his gear to change into. The general buzz of everyone else faded away a little as he undressed and redressed, stretching his neck side to side and getting his mind in game day mode. 

"You good?"

Geno rested a hand on his shelf, blocking off everyone to Sidney's right from listening in. He nodded, hitting the back of his hand against his A's chest.

"Never better."

"Did you sleep at all?"

Sidney couldn't help but laugh, reaching up for his cap. Some of the boys knew where he'd gone, the rest of the team either assuming he was staying in New York or flying home. So he trusted Geno enough to wink before he walked away.

"That not answer, Sid!"

"Of course it is," he called back, grinning around his Gatorade as he swiped it from a table before reaching the work out room. He had work to do.



By the time Hags had scored the 4th goal of the game, Sidney finally let himself breath. The Pens had dominated the Flyers the entire game - not that there was any surprise there - but he couldn't help but feel that unless they had some insurance goals on the board, it would all turn around at the last minute.

The jubilation lasted for the rest of the period, and Sidney threw all his remaining strength into the fist bumps, helmet taps and hockey hugs as he made his way to Flower once the final siren sounded, thumping his chest to acknowledge the job well done between the pipes. The locker room was pumping, everyone happy to have beaten the cross state rivals. It made Sidney shake his head a little to himself; he couldn't recall a time when he didn't hate the Flyers, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised he didn't actually have a solid reason why.

"- No I'm go Sid house."

He perked up, looking to his right to see Geno grinning at him while chatting to Phil as he untied his skates. "You're what now?"

Geno pointed to his chest and then to his Captain. "I'm come to your house for beer. Anna say I'm not go home if I loud because baby make her angry," He shrugged, as if his pregnant wife banishing him from the house after a game was a normal thing.

Although, with how distracted Sidney had been after Lyndsey's accident, he wouldn't be surprised if he somehow managed to miss that fact.

"Yeah, sure Geno," He sighed, giving in and rolling his eyes with a grin. The beat reporters had started to filter through the doors, so he shrugged off his pads and slipped on the same baseball cap he'd had for far too long, taking a seat in his stall to wipe his face off with a towel, leaving it around his shoulders to catch the sweat dripping down his neck from his hair. Post games were the bane of his existence, but part of the routine that by now he almost didn't notice he was ready for them until they were standing in front of him.

"Hey Sid," Mark Potash greeted, setting up his phone. "You good to go?"

Plastering on the media smile, he nodded, adjusting his cap. "Hit me."



The groans that Sidney, Geno and Duper let out as they slumped down on the sofas in Sidney's entertainment room were almost so loud that they echoed off the walls. There were two thumps on the ground as the Russian kicked off his shoes, hitting the recliner back into position and closing his eyes. His beer was balance just slightly too far to the right for Sid to be comfortable, so he turned his attention away to find the remote, flicking on the plasma screen in front of them while he finished his Gatorade.

"God I love watching them fall apart in front of our eyes." Pascal grinned behind his bottle, putting his sock covered feet up to rest of the coffee table as he practically finished his drink in two gulps. Sidney had to agree, tipping his own empty plastic towards his friend, then placing it on the floor. Sportscenter was on low in the background, filling the pitch black room with flickers of light. It was basketball highlights anyway.

"It's never bad."

"No talk hockey," Geno replied, causing both men to snap their heads to the left. What the hell else did he think they were going to talk about after a 6-2 demolishing of their rivals? "Talk Lyndsey instead."

Pascal’s eyebrows shot up. “Oooh, yeah. Let's talk about Lyndsey."

"No," Sid replied, leaning forward on the couch to pick up his beer he'd left on a coaster. "Just because you two are old and boring doesn't mean you're gonna live through me and my sex life."

"So there was some kind of marathon happening, eh?"

Their laughs made him grit his teeth and bear it, letting the bitter amber liquid sit on his tongue for a few moments while he gathered his thoughts. He'd never bragged about any action he'd gotten before, he wasn't about to start now.

Sidney levelled Duper with a glare. "I hadn't seen her in weeks man, what do you think?"

"Maybe just hold hands, I don't know-"

"Or whisper sweet nothings in the dark-"

'Sweet nothings', he mouthed to himself with an eye roll.

"Do hair and have pillow fight-"

"Okay, I get it. Very funny, the both of you."

Geno shrugged, moving around so that his arm was behind his head and he could face the two of them better to have a conversation. Duper had moved as well and all of a sudden, Sidney felt like the piggy in the middle. His favourite game.

"We just kidding."

"Yeah. I mean, we've both met her. And - for whatever reason - she's decided you're the best pick of the litter, so you'd be stupid to not-"

“Choose your next words carefully.” It wasn't very often that Sid and Pascal spoke in French - even less for Sid to say anything in a defensive tone to one of his best friends. It made Pascal pause, and raise an eyebrow.

"Sid-"

“I’m not kidding.”

"Okay," Pascal replied, holding his hands up to calm his Captain down. "I was just jok- well, I wasn't joking, I know how you feel about her-"

"It's fine - what Geno?"

His heart was pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his ears and all of a sudden his hands were sweating. There was a quiet thrumming under his skin, an anger he didn't know what to do with or where it had come from. The guys were just giving him shit; it wasn't anything he wasn't used to before. It made no sense.

"What bad about Lyndsey? Was trip not good?"

Sidney sighed, taking another gulp of his beer as he flicked out his recliner. The flashes from the TV bounced off the walls in the room, causing shadows to fall from the artwork he had on the walls. "The trip was fine."

More than fine. He had no idea why he'd just said it was 'fine'. Wonderfully exhausting, definitely. Worth every minute, absolutely. 

Frustratingly annoying because of the distance? In every way possible.

"C'mon, Cap. You were so excited about it in New York," Duper mentioned gently, setting his empty bottle down on the coffee table. "Could she not get out of work or something?"

"No," Sidney sighed heavily, rubbing at his eyes. He was starting to feel beyond exhausted. "No, it was great, it really was. We got to spend some actual time together, went to the mall and just hung out. It's just-" He stopped, biting at his lip for a second before giving up the fight entirely, "I just wish she was here, that's all. It's harder than I expected it to be. I didn't realise how much I took it for granted, with Steph."

The solid clap on his shoulder made him jerk, Geno's hand shaking him a little before he sat back in his lounge. "Is tough, in beginning." He waved his hand and looked back at the TV. "But, you like me, it work out in the end."

Sidney and Pascal shared a quick glance and a smirk, the easy "don't worry about it" vibe of the Russian making the situation a little lighter. Sidney wasn't always doom and gloom, and no matter what anyone said he absolutely loved his life. He had just never been put in the position where he even entertained the thought of choosing between hockey and a person. It was something he knew he'd have to adjust to.

"What do you think, G? Think Lyndsey and Anna would be friends?"

The "pfft" that came out of Geno's mouth told enough of the story. "Best friends, Sid. We going to have competition."

"What?" He laughed, nodding when Pascal got up and waved his beer bottle. They'd had a good game and didn't have skate the next morning. He could afford to have a couple of drinks more to relax. 

"Who has better wife."

"Oh my God, G. Lyndsey's not my wife."

"Should be!"

Sid knew there was no way to make Geno understand just how stubborn his girlfriend actually was, how trying to get her to agree to spend more than a weekend together was almost like pulling teeth. Regardless of his feelings, he wasn't going to start thinking about Lyndsey as anything other than his long distance girlfriend, because he knew exactly what he was like; he'd let the idea sit in the back of his head until it was bugging him like a migraine, wanting constant attention and an answer that he knew he had no guts to ask for.

Not yet.

"Maybe one day," He mused, reaching for the remote once NBC started to show the hockey highlights.

"I'm know, Sid. I'm know."

Sure, Geno he thought, taking the beer from Pascal as he entered back into the room; the Lyndsey topic dropped for the rest of the night.



The last couple of games of the season were always intense, yet weird. Sully wanted them to win, but didn't want the top players to go hard to make sure that they weren't injured by the time that the playoffs started. So Sid found himself playing games at 85%, and trying not to frown too badly when they lost, making up some bullshit excuse for their play for the beat reporters when it came for time to do press.

It never made him happy to lose the last game of the season - especially against Philadelphia. Not that it really mattered in the long run, but losing always left a bad taste in his mouth, even if he'd had his fair share of losses his entire life. Having scraped out an OT win against the Caps only two nights before, he'd sort of hoped they'd finish on a high and go into the playoffs on a streak.

“At least beating them got you into the playoffs,” Lyndsey reasoned in his ear, her break miraculously coinciding with his arrival back to his house.  Sidney shrugged his jacket off as he walked into the kitchen, reaching up to loosen his tie while he decided what he wanted to do. It was too late to have coffee, and even though he knew that he needed food, he couldn't be bothered to make anything in his fridge resemble a meal. He pondered the pile of take out menus on the side of the fridge, trying to remember who- besides Pizza Hut - would deliver at three in the morning. “You there?”

"Yeah, sorry." He cleared his throat, setting down onto one of the bar stools instead. "Thinking about what food to eat."

She hmmed back to him, the both of them falling into a quick silence. Physically, he was exhausted. He knew that the second he put his head on the pillow, he'd be out; so he forced himself to stay awake. It had been a couple of days since he'd had more than just a quick five minutes to talk to her, he was determined to make it through the pleasantries before collapsing for the night.

"Hey, can I ask something? And you not get mad?"

“Why would I get mad?”

Because the last time I mentioned you coming to Pittsburgh, you practically hung up on me, he thought to himself, picking at a speck of left over something on his counter. "Just. Don't fly off the handle."

She sighed, but giggled just the same so he knew that she was in kind of a good mood. He hated that he may be about to spoil it.

"Okay," He started, once she told him to carry on. "What if you just take a couple of days of unpaid leave and I'll pay for your flights?"

She groaned at him before he even finished the question. “It's not that easy, Sidney. I can't just take off for a couple of days. That's not how hospitals work.”

"But they'll let you use your vacation to stay at home and rest when you're injured, not to actually go on vacation?"

“Sid-”

"No, Lynds. That's bullshit."

“I’m aware. It's just how management run things here.”

"Well they need to reassess their policies," He grumbled to himself, needing something to do with his hands and opening the fridge door to pull out a Gatorade. "What if you said you won tickets to a game and couldn't pass it up?"

She scoffed back at him. “They'd never believe that.”

"Fine." He unscrewed the cap. "Tell them you're coming to see me."

“They would believe that even less, you moron.”

He gasped. "I'm trying to figure out a way to see you, and you're calling me a moron? What kind of girlfriend does that?"

“The sane kind.”

"The mean, un-wanting to see their boyfriend kind,” He retorted, taking a long pull of the sports drink. He was draining fast, his body running on fumes. Maybe two pizzas were needed.

She was quiet for a second. “I never don’t want to see you, Sidney. Never.” He took a drink. And waited. “But I just can't make it right now. Maybe…”

"Maybe?" He could deal with maybe. Maybe when?

“Maybe the second round?”

"Don't jinx it!"

“It's not jinxing!” She insisted, and he heard vaguely in the background some loud noise. “It's motivation. Get to the second round and I'll come down and visit and we can celebrate.”

He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "I can not believe you're holding sex over my head as a way to get me to succeed at hockey." He grinned behind his hand at the sound of her laughter, glancing at the clock. It was nearly 3AM. He needed to sleep.

“I highly doubt it would work, anyway.”

It would. It so would. He'd never tell her that. But if getting through to the second round was the only way to get her to Pittsburgh and back in his arms, he would drag the entire team through by the skin of his teeth to make sure it happened. They said their goodbyes so that Sid could order himself some food. He barely even remembered staring at his phone screen before the delivery came, and then it was like he skipped time before he made his way up the stairs, barely having enough energy to get undressed before sliding under the covers. His phone lit up the screen from where he'd set it on his bedside table, Taylor's name shining at him with her flight details underneath.

He smiled to himself. Maybe he needed to have a chat with his far too mature for her age sister. She'd be able to figure something out for him and Lyndsey, he was sure of it.



"Hey man, come on in." Kris stepped back from the door, holding out his hand for a hand shake and bro-hug as Sidney stepped through the threshold. He took the bottle of wine that Sid had in his hands, nodding his approval as he shut the door. "Cath will love you."

"She already loves me," He joked, laughing when the defensemen shoved him back. "They staying?"

"Nah," Kris called out over his shoulder, walking ahead and down the hallway to his kitchen, where Sidney could already hear rambunctious voices filling the room. "They're heading to Flower's."

"Uncle Sid!"

Alex's voice came screaming through the room, the tiny pads of toddler feet moving as quick as possible across the hardwood floors from the dining table where he'd been sitting with his Mom. Sid bent down to rest on one knee so he could catch him, pretending to fall back once the three year old got to him, giggling in his ear. 

"I got you!"

"You did!" Sid exclaimed, wrapping his arms around the little body using him as a cushion. "You're stronger than your Dad!"

"Hey!" came the indignant cry from somewhere behind a counter. Kuni looked down at them both and raised his beer.

"Alex, mon fils. Let Sid up." Cath was upside down to him, smiling gently with her hands on her hips. All dressed up and ready for a night out away from a house full of hockey players. He wondered if she ever thought she'd come home to find the house broken.

"But..." The blue eyes stared back at him, his tiny mouth forming a pout. Sid smirked, brushing his hair back off his face and kissed his forehead, holding him in one arm while he balanced the other on a chair to stand up. Alex's grin at his mother by the time Sid was upright was as wide as he'd ever seen it.

"It's fine. Hi," He leant over, kissing Cath's cheek quickly in a greeting. "Tu vas bien?"

"Oui. Et toi?"

"Hey hey hey, no secret French business over there," Chris chastised, tutting and waving his finger back and forth. Sid rolled his eyes, bouncing Alex in his arm who had taken to playing with his chain that had come out from underneath his Henley. "English for the rest of us, thanks."

Pascal threw a piece of carrot at him. "You have been playing with French speaking players for almost ten years."

Chris popped the vegetable in his mouth, shrugging. "Duper, you never bothered to teach me."

"Oh my God," Cath muttered under her breath. "Alex, are you ready to go?"

The three year old looked up at his Mom, then at Sidney, shaking his head and tucking it down underneath Sid's chin. "Don't wanna."

Cath frowned playfully, turning to her husband who set down the steaks he was marinating. Tanger made his way over, arms open. "C'mon, Alex. You're going to go play with Estelle."

"No," He pouted, turning away and snaking both arms around Sid's neck, holding on tight. "Wanna stay with Uncle Sid."

Just as both of the Letang's opened their mouths to argue, Sid just shrugged. "Cath, go finish getting yourself ready. I'm all good here. Right, buddy?" He put his hand on Alex's back, but the kid just nodded into his sleeve and tightened his legs around Sid's middle. Sidney moved to the open bar stool next to Duper, resting an arm on the counter as Chris handed over a drink. "We'll be here."

"No," Alex whined, holding on tighter. "No, I wanna stay."

"Hey, hey," Sid cooed, giving the little guy a hug. "It's okay, buddy. You'll be over there with all of Dupers' kids, and Kuni's. Don't you want to go see Kody? Or Aubrey? They'll want to see you."

"Yeah bud, Aubrey wants to play with you and Stella-Bella." At the mention of the oldest Fluery daughter, Sid suddenly realised that Marc-Andre wasn't in the room. And he swore that Kris told him he had to come to dinner.

"Where is Flower?"

Kris set down a glass bowl, full of what Sidney hoped was Cath's potato salad. "Matt called him," He nodded his head towards the backyard. Sid squinted through the window and could see their goalie pacing back and forth, cell phone held to his ear. "Baby goalie is freaking out."

Sid chuckled with the rest of them, taking a swig of his beer. He bounced his knee a little, making Alex jerk back from where he was still cuddling, fingers wrapped around gold. "What about that, huh? Aubrey wants to see you. And," He rushed on, Alex's mouth open to protest, "I've gotta have a grown up talk with your Dad tonight, buddy. I wouldn't be able to play."

At the idea that his Dad wouldn't be able to hang out with him either, he sat still. "Daddy in trouble?" He whispered, looking over his shoulder. Kris' mouth dropped open when Sidney's answered with a quick 'yep', Chris hiding his grin behind his fist. 

"Big trouble," Duper added, nodding when Alex turned to face him. "Uncle Sid has to have a Captain talk with him."

Tanger just sputtered out a protest, holding up his middle finger to his team mates once he was sure his son wasn't looking at him. "Assholes," He mouthed, turning back around to face the stove.

"Uncle Sid?" Alex's tiny hands tapped on his chest, and Sid sat down his beer back on the bench, giving the three year old all of his attention. "Is Daddy really in trouble?"

He paused for a second, adding to the dramatic effect, but dropped it when it looked like Alex was actually about to get upset and start crying. He shook his head with a grin and shrugged, turning his head to see Cath come back in the room with a bag over her shoulder. "I promise, I won't yell at your Dad."

Accepting that with a nod, Alex turned around, sliding to the ground to run over to his Dad's legs. Sidney let the two of them chat, turning his attention back to Duper and Chris. 

Until a hand on his shoulder made him jump.

"Jesus Christ, Flower," He groaned, running a hand through his hand. "I hate it when you do that."

"Going deaf, eh Captain?"

"Shut up," the younger of the two grumbled.

Dinner with the core was just what he needed to get himself out of his head. He hadn't heard from Lyndsey that day apart from a couple of random texts while he was asleep - she liked to entertain herself while she was working and he was dead to the world - and he'd made sure to call Taylor that morning to check in. He would be the first to admit that he wasn't always the best big brother in the world in the sense of keeping in touch with her while she was off in Minnesota for school, so he tried to make the times he could talk to her mean something.

No matter how much time went on there was always a tiny niggling part of him that felt guilty for leaving when she was such a little kid. He wondered what their relationship would be like now if he'd stayed in Cole Harbor all those years ago instead of leaving for boarding school.

While Cath was definitely the better Letang when it came to skills in the kitchen, Kris certainly knew his way around the grill. So by the time the guys had sat back in their chairs and let out the manliest of burps after chowing down on steaks and salad, everyone looked very satisfied. It was the first time in a few seasons that Sid felt half okay going into the playoffs, not like he was all caught up in his head going over plays and passes and his opponents weaknesses incessantly like he had done in years past.

There was the general talk about the Rangers; who they liked, who they wouldn't mind laughing in the face of, who had the biggest bone to pick with the King. Not that Sid would ever repeat to anyone other than the team mates he knew would be his teammates until he retired, but he couldn't stand some of the players in the league. Not in the same way that he disliked the Flyers (because that was State rivalry and more of a gimmick at this point), but a few people who just seemed to be in the game for all the wrong reasons - or even worse, trying to make the most of their time in the spotlight by getting people to focus on them away from the ice, not what they could do on it.

There were plenty of people that Sid knew, had grown up with, that got over looked and would've been a hell of a lot of a better hockey player than some of the guys hitting the ice 82 nights a year.

He called it a night before he could get too caught up in his head, because the quieter he got thinking about the game too much, the more the boys gave him shit for not being able to relax for five minutes. He let the radio drone on in the background for the ten minute drive from Kris's to his place and he sighed heavily when he pressed the button for his garage door and closed his eyes for a few seconds while it opened.

The noise of the door closing behind him echoed in the concrete room and when Sid opened the door to his house, throwing his keys onto the counter, he paused. There wasn't a sound coming from anywhere - no taps dripping, no TV on. Not even his Grandfather clock. Which meant that it needed to be wound up again. He adjusted the dials on the clock face to match the ones on his watch and closed the glass door after setting it back, catching the slight reflection of his face in the glass.

He remembered what it felt like to come home after a night like the one he'd just had when he was still with Stephanie. She'd be waiting up for him most nights, watching some kind of reality show on the couch with a cashmere blanket thrown over her legs. He'd smile at her and join her for an episode or two; usually not knowing what the hell was on but it just felt nice. He liked coming home to someone every night (or every night that he could). He and Steph had talked about the future; getting another dog (or having Sam full time), maybe a different house. 

He'd even thought about a ring.

With another heavy sigh, he turned off the light to his hallway, making his way up the stairs to his empty bedroom. As much as he hated how he'd felt when he and Stephanie had broken up - and he didn't regret the reason why they weren't together anymore, he felt nostalgic for what his life might've looked now. Maybe a dishwasher full of dishes from more than one plate. Bath toys filling a bucket in the bathroom, all brightly coloured and entertaining for little eyes.

He paused as he spat out his toothpaste, rinsing the Colgate out of his mouth and using the hand towel to dry his face. He eyed the lone bottle of two-in-one shampoo/conditioner, the single bar of soap in the shower before shaking himself out of it, sliding into bed. He reached for his phone that was already charging, thumbing open to Lyndsey's name in his iMessages to type out a quick miss you x before closing his eyes and doing his best to shut his brain off.