Page 121 of Unwritten Rules
“What?” I question, tone more forceful than I intended. “What would Mum say about this if she were here?”
Dad swallows, lips mashing together. “Well, she would know what to say better than I ever could, that’s for sure.”
“She would listen to me,” I tell him, squaring my shoulders. “Mum was the best at defusing any heated situation because she knew listening to each side of the story was the only way to navigate the narrow road together.”
My chest squeezes painfully at the mention of Mum. If she were here, not only would she have talked Dad out of the stupid rule, but she would support me to the end, no matter what. It was the kind of person she was. If I wanted something, she would do whatever she could to help me achieve it. She would never have stood in my way, not like how Dad is, and that’s a major difference between them.
Dad exhales a sharp breath, turning his attention to the desk instead of me. “I was doing this because of her, Tate.”
Now I’m the one frowning. “I’m not following.”
Uncertainty seeps into his features as he rolls his lips together, contemplating his next words. The longer the silence consumes the room, the harder it is to breathe.
“I didn’t want you to repeat what we did,” he says, each word deliberate and soft. “Your mum and I.”
And there it is. The real reason Dad hated the idea of me dating a rugby player. I had thought it was because he didn’t want his players to be distracted or for me to cause friction. And then there is his issue with Sinnett’s past, thinking he’s not good enough for me. But it’s because he didn’t want me to follow in their footsteps—the one where I date a rugby player and lose myself in the process, just like Mum did.
“My situation is nothing like yours,” I tell him, voice tight.
“It couldn’t be more the same,” Dad argues, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “You gave up your job for him, Tate. Your mother did the same. She wanted me to follow my dreams and in the process she gave up on pursuing hers. I hated that she did so because I wanted her to chase her goals. All I ever wanted to see was her success.”
Tears spring to my eyes, but I blink them away, refusing to cry. “She chose to do that for you, Dad. You didn’t give her an ultimatum. Seeing you happy is what made her happy.” I swallow around the lump in my throat, chest aching. “I didn’t get a choice. At least not one that mattered. Leaving was the best choice for Sinnett because I didn’t want to stand in the way of his success. But where I differ from Mum is that I plan to continue pursuing my goals with or without Sinnett in my life.”
Dad rolls his lips, my words melting over him like an ice cream in the summer. The silence in the room is deafening, extenuating the erratic rhythm of my heart and the blood rushing through my veins.
Knowing Mum didn’t get the chance to live out her dreams because she put my dad first, and then me when I came along, is heartbreaking. She was far too young when she left with the rest of her life still in front of her. I knew she held regrets about not pursuing her dreams, but at the end of the day, being a mother was her greatest achievement, and if that’s what made her truly happy in the end, then she lived her life without regret.
“Listen, I know you don’t want to see me fail or put a man first, but my relationship with Sinnett isn’t a reflection of yours with Mum.” I roll my lips together, searching for the right words. “I have every intention of continuing to further my career and achieve every dream I have ever wanted, but I can do that with a man by my side, using all the support I can get.”
Dad exhales a sharp breath, running a hand over his gelled back hair. “I hear you, Tate. I do. But as your father, I can’t help but worry. You’ve never given me a reason to not trust you or think that you don’t need me, but ever since your mother passed…” He clears his throat and shifts on the chair. “I don’t want to let her down. You’re all I have left and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
A tear slides down my cheek as my hands fist over my thighs. Moisture blurs my vision, creating an outline of Dad as we hold each other’s gaze. He isn’t the type of man to get emotional or put his heart on his sleeve, so hearing him say he doesn’t want to let Mum down… It’s hard.
“I’m okay, I promise,” I squeeze out, teary-eyed. “When I’m with Sinnett… God, it’s as if the clouds on a rainy day open up and the sun shines through, sizzling my skin, making me feel alive. We just click, you know?”
“You sound happy.” It’s not a question but an observation.
“I am happy,” I answer, a smile slipping onto my face. “Sinnett makes me happy, Dad. Like really happy. And… I like him. A lot.”
He raises a brow at me. “You do?”
Just the thought Sinnett has my heart racing with excitement and the need to be with him. Being with him is like breathing air—natural and necessary. Without him, I feel hollow, like he’s taken a piece of himself with him and only returns it when we’re together again.
“I do,” I respond with a nod, smile growing wider. “If there is anyone you can trust me with, it’s him. He has my best interest at heart and wants to see me succeed as much as you do.”
Dad exhales a long drawn-out breath and nods. “I want you to be happy, Tate. I always have. And if being with Sin is what you need… I won’t stand in your way.” Noticing the joy splitting across my face, he points a finger at me, a serious expression melting into his weathered features. “But make no mistake, if he hurts you in anyway, I will kill him. Well, not really, but you know what I mean. I will have no regrets handing his ass to him.”
With my heart in my throat and my hands clasped together in front of my chest, I widen my eyes. “So that means you’re okay with this? With us?”
“Well, not entirely, but this is what you want, so I’m going to be supportive.” His lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t agree with how he used to spend his time, but if you’re adamant that he’s not the man the rumours make him out to be, then I’m willing to trust you on that.”
That’s all I needed to hear.
Jumping up from the chair, I race around the desk and throw my arms around his neck, hugging him close. His Lynx body wash coats my senses, a familiar scent that reminds me of when he would flip me upside down when I was six years old and walk me across the ceiling to my bedroom every night before bed. It was our night time ritual. If he was home, we would do it. I hated when he was in Sydney and I couldn’t do it, Mum not being strong enough to carry me, but when Dad did come home, we’d fall into our habits like no time had passed.
“You won’t regret this,” I tell him, squeezing tighter. “I promise.”
“I hope not,” he huffs out gruffly, likely from me restricting his airway. “I’ll be having a stern talking to Sinnett at trainingtomorrow about treating my little girl right. And if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass.”
