Page 115 of Unwritten Rules
“Okay,” I breathe, nodding.
“I want to know Mum’s opinion before?—”
“No,” I interject, hands tightening around the wheel.
Mia’s eyes snap to mine. “What?”
“Stop waiting for their approval. I hate to break it to you, but Mum and Dad won’t ever be entirely happy with what you decide. It’s how they are. Look at me. I’m the star halfback for the Wolves, a top NRL team, and Dad is still pushing me. I made it, and he’s still breathing down my neck over every little thing. Don’t wait for them to tell you they’re satisfied, because they won’t be. Not truly, anyway.”
Mia drags her bottom lip between her teeth, nodding slowly as my words hover in the air between us.
Silence seeps into my skin, putting me further on edge. I want to see my sister happy after everything she’s been through. Living in Barrenridge and having Noah in her life seems to have been the thing that she needed to get her life back on track, so it pains me to see her hiding from what makes her happy.Whomakes her happy.
What are the odds that we’re both having trouble in our love lives? I suppose twins do everything together, right?
“I’m proud of you, Sin.”
My face flicks to the left, gaze lingering on my sister’s side profile. I’m reminded of all the times Tatum said she was proud of me. It was the confidence boost I needed after constantly feeling like I wasn’t good enough for my father, the club, the media, and the fans. But seeing the smile on her face and the warmth in her eyes made it easier to breathe and push away the weight settling on my shoulders.
My mouth quirks in a half smile. “I know, and I’ll be proud too with whatever you decide is bestfor you, not anyone else.”
Mia blows out a breath and rests her head against the window. She might not think so now, but everything will work out for her. I can feel it in my gut. Call it twin-tuition, but I have no doubt Noah will do the right thing and take care of my sister. I just know it.
My grip tightens around the wheel as Khai’s earlier words sound in the back of my mind.
If you want to see her, you’ll find a way to do it.
An idea slams into my head like a freight train and I can’t help but smile as I turn onto my parents’ street. If Khai wants me to get creative, then I know just the thing to do. I hope it doesn’t blow up in my face.
Chapter Thirty-Three
TATUM
With my father out of the house for the game tonight, and Raya unable to keep me distracted because she's cheerleading, I'm left to wander around the house, moving from room to room in the hopes I'll find something to fill my time with.
Reading a book did nothing but make my mind wander, unable to focus on the words. When I couldn't find anything decent to watch on the streaming sites, every TV show or movie either not interesting enough or something I've watched far too many times that I can recite the dialogue backwards, I tried cleaning my bedroom. Clothes were strewn across the floor in desperate need of hanging, and the top of my dresser was a mess, littered with perfume bottles and random hair accessories, reflecting the chaos in my head.
My body and mind are not happy with whatever I try to do, intent instead with forcing me to ignore everything and focus on the ocean eyes that have plagued me this past week. I hate that I can't forget about Sinnett. Not that I want to. But if I'm going to move on from this and allow him to continue his career without my getting in the way of his ambitions, then I need to continueto remind myself that this is for the best. Putting him above my own needs and desires was the right call.
I've been trying to tell myself that every chance I could get this past week, and each time the reminder was like a knife to the heart. I know deep down it was what needed to happen, but my heart refuses to accept it.
Sinnett has tried to reach out multiple times, and each time I see his name on the screen, it physically pains me to not respond. We haven't spoken since the game last week, when I walked away without giving us a chance to discuss the situation. I know what he would say. He would tell me that he can have both—his career and me. But I know that it can't happen. As long as my father is hellbent on me not dating anyone on the team, whether I'm working for the club or not, Sinnett will always be out of reach.
Sighing, I flop down on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Despite the chill in the room, sweat lingers on my skin. I should go have a shower, even if it's to give myself something to do, but my body refuses to move, intent on just lying in one spot and staring at nothing.
Thinking. Feeling. Remembering.
The late-night drives with Sinnett is something I miss more than I thought I would. His comforting presence when we were in his car, laughing, talking and singing along to whatever song played from the playlist I created for him—for us—was a welcome distraction from how exhausted I was from work. It was an outlet for both of us, one that allowed us time to decompress and just be together. We didn't need to do anything sexual; we just needed each other.
My phone vibrates on the bedside table, pulling me from my thoughts. It could be Noah or Nathan. We're all riding the 'hot mess express' together, so we've been doing our best to be there for each other. They're my best friends and I would do anythingfor them, and vice versa. I'm always a phone call away if they need me.
I blindly reach for the device and bring it my face, expecting to see either one of my friend's names on the screen. My heart thunders in my chest when it's not either of them. I slowly push myself into a seated position, reading and re-reading the three simple words on the screen.
SIN: I need you.
I shouldn't respond to him, I know that. It'll be easier for the both of us if I continue to keep him at arm's length. But the longer the words sink into my skin, embedding themselves into my blood stream and racing toward the beating muscle in my chest, I can't help but feel as though something is wrong.
The previous texts from Sinnett have mostly been him wanting to see me so we can talk, but this one is different. It could mean anything. The uncertainty of not knowing the context and the need to know he's okay is the driving force behind my actions. My fingers move in a blur as I type out a response.
