Page 105 of Unwritten Rules
Phil had no right to thrust an ultimatum on me in that moment. Not when I was falling apart at the seams, desperately trying to hold on to my resolve without letting Tatum slip through my fingers. I was at a loss for words, which allowed Tatum to swoop in and make a decision for me.
I froze in that moment. The thought of losing Tatum hurt, but so did the prospect of ruining everything I had built at the club. I have put my heart and soul into achieving this dream, so when Phil dangled the possibility of losing it all in front of my face, I froze like a fucking coward.
It felt like an impossible decision at the time—one I couldn’t make on the spot.
I hate myself for making Tatum feel like she had to do this for me. That she isn’t as important to me as rugby. It couldn’t be further from the fucking truth. Tatum has been a light in my life, brightening the darkest parts of me and revealing aspects of myself I hadn’t seen in a long time. She taught me how to put myself first—something I had never done in the past. I was too busy doing what my father wanted of me, when I should’ve been making decisions for myself based on whatIwanted.
And now she’s gone.
I let her walk away.
Fuck.
I storm into the sheds, fists clenched at my sides and heart jackhammering in my chest. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, followed by the kind of anger that no one wants to be in the firing line of. It festers beneath my skin—hot and ready to fucking explode. The 10-22 loss to the Sharks isn’t helping either. If anything, it’s adding fuel to the rapidly growing fire.
“Fuck!” I shove my hands through my hair, ignoring the sweat and blades of grass clinging to my skin. “This is such bullshit.”
Khai appears behind me, his presence doing little to ease the storm brewing inside of my chest. He doesn’t touch me; he knows better than to do so when I’m in this state. It’s not the first time—having dealt with many of my meltdowns all through high school and university—and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
“Sin, it’s okay.” His voice is calm, not wanting to poke the bear. “You played a good game, but it just wasn’t our night.”
“I played like fucking shit.” I whirl around to face him. Dirt and grass stains seep into the material of his jersey, mirroring mine. He’s as much of a mess as I am, just without the internal war. “I couldn’t hold onto the ball, I wasn’t paying attention tothe plays being set up and I missed a try conversion all because I was distracted byher.”
Khai rolls his lips and looks around at the deflated room. Our teammates are silent as they sit in front of their locker spaces, heads hanging between their shoulders or eyes locked on the ceiling, likely replaying the game in their heads to see where we went wrong.
I know where we went wrong. It was allme.
“Come on.” Khai clasps my shoulder, guiding me out of the room and into the adjoining training space. With everyone waiting for Coach Phil, ready for him to hand our fucking asses to us, the training room is as private of as space as we’re going to get.
Khai watches, standing in front of me as I pace, eyes locked on the floor as I repeatedly shove my hand through my hair.
“What the hell is going on?” Khai demands. “This is more than just losing the game.”
“I fucking lost her, man.” My heart hasn’t stopped racing since I walked out of the supply room before the game. I’m worried it’s going to give out any second now.
“Who? Tatum?”
I nod, my pace increasing as I fight to keep her sad jade eyes out of my head.
“What happened?” my friend asks, voice even. “You told me everything was going great.”
“It was,” I hiss, shoulders tense. “Until someone took a photo of us at the beach last night and fucking sent it to Phil.”
I stop in front of Khai, chest heaving. I’m not surprised by the shock that passes through his features. Believe me, I was the same when I saw the photo on Phil’s phone. It wasn’t until I had returned to the sheds that it really cemented in my mind that someone took that photo and purposefully sent it to Phil knowing it would have this desired reaction.
And as I ran out onto the field, thoughts elsewhere, I knew only one person could be behind this. The same person who told me I would regret my decision to break things off with them.
“Who would do that?” Khai murmurs, the wheels turning in his head, fighting to come up with an answer. “I mean, that’s just fucking cruel.”
“Who else would it be?” I roar, losing the grip I had been trying to keep on my temper. “It had to be Zoe.”
Khai’s eyes widen as realisation dawns on him. “That bitch! Of course she would do something like this. If she can’t have you, then no one else can.”
The anger simmering in my veins reaches boiling point. My surroundings blur into a hue of red, and my consciousness slips away, replaced with an entity that is filled with nothing but pure rage. Pain explodes through my fists and it takes me far too long to realise I’m beating the shit out of the curved tackle shield lying in the corner of the room.
I’m no longer in control of my actions or emotions, searching for an outlet for the pent-up rage burning in my chest. Each punch does nothing to cool me off or bring a sense of peace to the situation. I barely register the pain shooting through my arms or the ache forming in my knuckles. All I’m focused on is landing punch after punch, fighting the urge to release the scream building at the base of my throat.
It isn’t until Khai wraps his arms around my torso, dragging me away from the foam shield, do I inhale a deep breath. My lungs burn and my body aches when I lock eyes with Khai. Fear flashes through his, and I feel like an asshole for losing my shit.
