Page 58 of Unwritten Rules
“And is she okay with this? Tate?”
I nod. “She’s all in.”
Khai whistles low and nods. “Okay, well… I guess you’re going to have to play this cool. If Coach so much as catches wind of this, or anyone in the club for that matter, you’re fucked. The both of you.”
“Yeah, man, I know.” I exhale a sharp breath and turn to face the view, focusing on the cool air seeping into the exposed skin of my chest. “Is it bad that I don’t care? I mean, if we get caught…”
“It means you’re happy,” Khai says, turning his head to the right, pale eyes searching the side of my face. “It’s what you deserve.”
“Do I?” I question, rolling my shoulders back. “Do I deserve Tatum?”
“Probably not,” my best friend offers with a shrug. “But she clearly makes you feel something you’ve never felt before.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sin. Just live in the moment, okay?”
There is that saying again. Tatum had said something similar when talking about embracing moments in life and relating them to song lyrics. And now Khai is saying the same thing.
When the lyrics of that Ed Sheeran song settled over me, and I saw Tatum staring up at me with her big eyes and kind smile, I couldn’t hold back anymore. The string pulling us together had tightened to the point I couldn’t breathe unless I kissed her. Felt her against me. It was impossible to breathe, let alone get the words out that I needed to.
And when she kissed me back…Fuck, it ignited a fire deep in my soul that is still burning as I watch the sun rise.
If I hadn’t been in the moment, and allowed my desire to take over, I would be having a different conversation with Khai right now.
“What if I mess it up?” I murmur, chest squeezing inward. “I don’t know if I could handle hurting her.”
“Then don’t,” Khai says simply, like it’s the most obvious answer to my predicament. “You’ve got this, Sin. Keep doing what you’re doing and everything will work out.”
I want to believe him. I do. But nothing is ever easy in my life. Just when I think everything is going well, I’m blindsided by something else that knocks my world off its axis.
“Yeah,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you’re right.”
Dinnerwith my parents is still the worst part of my week. Not because I don’t love them—I do—but they have no boundaries when it comes to my personal life or career. They are always finding ways to slip through the cracks in the wall I put up between us, embedding themselves and their opinions under my skin. I know that at some point during these dinners, they will find a way to bring up the inevitable instead of steering the conversation to normal topics like the weather, what they’ve been up to and how the extended family is. Hell, I would take my mum telling me about a case she’s worked on or my dad talking about the latest Supercars race than be put under the spotlight.Again.
I know not to hold my breath with my parents because they will always find a way to steer the conversation to either me or Mia. And tonight is no different.
After the disastrous dinner last week, I haven’t spoken to either of them besides a few text messages here and there. I hope they got the hint that they fucked up by overstepping the line with Mia. She has been through a lot, and while they don’t know the finer details of the situation, it doesn’t excuse their behaviour. And don’t even get me started on how Dad spoke about Tatum.
For the most part, the conversation over dinner—the same roast we have every week—has been tame, but it doesn’t take long for Dad to ruin the evening.
“Sin, I apologise for my words last week.”
“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Dad,” I mutter, eyes focused on the half-eaten steak on my plate.
“We can’t get ahold of her,” Mum interjects from her seat across the table. “She won’t answer either of our calls or texts. I’m worried about her.”
“Mia is fine,” I grit, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs, careful of my injury but needing to do something with them. “I spoke to her this morning. She’s been busy helping Gran and getting settled in.” The details of her babysitting for Noah are not something I’m willing to share right now. It’s not my place to tell them.
Dad heaves a sigh, and I look up to see him running a hand down the side of his face. After commentating for a game earlier this afternoon, he’s still dressed in one of his freshly pressed black suits. “She can’t continue to shut us out without telling us what’s going on.”
“Did you tell her to call me?” Mum asks.
“Yes,” I bite out, annoyed with my parents’ questioning about my sister when I’m sitting right here. She could be asking aboutme.
“I just want to know she’s okay,” Mum adds, her voice sharp. “After the break up with Ryan, she hasn’t been the same.”
My hands form fists on my thighs, nails digging into my palm as my knuckles bleach white. “Don’t speak his name. He’s a piece of shit, and I’m glad Mia got away from him.”
