Page 71 of Unwritten Rules
Seeing Tatum jump into action like that, so willing to help Khai, has my heart racing in a way I haven’t felt before. It feels different than when she smiles at me or whenever she slides into my car, ready to tell me about what song she wants to play me first for our drives. It’s deeper than that, and something I can’t describe.
Tatum has told me about her love for helping others, and while she hasn’t gone into much detail about why, it reflects in her actions and the passion and drive she puts into her position. Without hesitating, she rushed to Khai’s side to check on him when Greg could’ve helped him off the field so he could be examined on the sideline. But Tatum went full steam ahead and rushed onto the field like a bat out of hell. If that isn’t a testament to her desire to help others and perform her job to the best of her ability, then I don’t know what is.
My heart is in my throat, pounding rapidly as Tatum and Greg help a hobbling Khai off the field. On instinct, my legs carry me to the tunnel, meeting them halfway. Khai lifts his head tomeet my eyes. Pain seeps into them—a mixture of physical and emotional.
“Are you okay?” My voice is gruffer than intended, but the worry is all the same.
Khai nods. “Yeah. I’m hoping it’s just a sprain, but Tate is going to check me out thoroughly just to be sure.”
When I lock eyes with the all-too familiar jade ones I have started to see in my dreams, my heart is ready to jump through my chest. The same feeling in my stomach rushes forth like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me. Warmth seeps into my skin, embedding itself deep in my bones as I hold eye contact with the woman who has my head a fucking mess and my heart forgetting how to beat.
“You’ve got him?” I murmur, shoving my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.
Tatum smiles, that sweet fucking smile that nearly sends me to my knees every time I see it. “I’ve got him, Sin.”
God. What is this woman doing to my heart?
I nod, trying to ignore the electricity swimming through my veins. Clapping Khai on the shoulder, I say, “I’ll see you in the sheds at after the game.”
“We’llbe waiting for you.” He wiggles his brows, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. Even facing the prospect of a serious injury, he finds a way to joke around with me. That’s a good sign, I suppose.
Flashing a half-smile at Tatum, I murmur, “I’ll see you after the game.”
A light hue of pink splashes her cheeks as she looks up at me through her lashes. “I hope so.”
The cool May airwhips at my bare legs, my back pressed against the side of my car. I’ve read and re-read my text messages with Tatum from earlier tonight at least ten times, and each time I smile like a damn fool.
What is this woman doing to me?
Seriously, it’s concerning.
I went from hopping between multiple women’s bed, desperate for a distraction and a quick fix, to laughing out loud at Tatum’s bad jokes and flirty text messages, with zero interest in other women. Hell, I won’t look in another woman’s direction unless it’s a certain strawberry-blonde.
Khai keeps telling me I’m whipped, which results in him getting a smack upside the head because I’mnot. Thankfully, he doesn’t mind when she comes over at night for a couple of hours, unable to keep our hands off each other. Khai says he puts his earphones in and plays the PlayStation, which I’m thankful for. If I couldn’t have Tatum over at the apartment, we wouldn’t have much alone time besides going for late-night drives.
Those drives have become an escape for me from the stresses of my life. Whenever I feel overwhelmed by my father’s constant need to be involved in my life and career, or doubt creeps in that this injury is worse than it is and I might not be on the field in two weeks, I crave Tatum’s quiet company and killer playlists. Getting lost in the lyrics of a song was something I couldn’t do, but with the help of Tatum and her calming presence, I find myself needing the escape through words and music.
“In These Arms” by Bon Jovi blast through the ear buds jammed into my ears as I scroll through the list of my liked songs. My phone vibrates with an incoming call from Gran, pulling me from the lyrcis. With some time on my hands while I wait for Tatum to finish checking over Khai, I accept the call.
“Hey, Gran.”
“Sin!” Gran coos, voice as airy as the cookies she used to make every time Mia and I would visit Barrenridge in the school holidays. “How is my favourite grandson doing?”
“Gran, I’m your only grandson,” I chuckle, shoving my left hand into the pocket of my shorts. The car park is empty save for a few cars belonging to the staff and lingering players in the sheds. The moon is high in the sky, surrounded by stars that dull in comparison to the smile of the woman I have looked up to my entire life. “But I’m doing good. Nothing new happening on my end.”
“I watched the game tonight. I miss seeing you out there.”
Gran watches the Wolves play every week without fail. Besides Mia, she is my number one supporter. Even though she lives a couple of hours away, she did her best to be present for every part of my life, especially in my rugby career. If she wasn’t calling every other day to catch up, she was talking to her friends about me and buying jerseys for whichever club I was playing for throughout high school and university. She also owns every Wolves item from the merch shop possible. Even if she isn’t physically around, she is silently supporting from the sidelines and never fails to remind me of how proud she is.
“Me too,” I murmur, kicking at a rock with the toe of my white Air Force. “I have my six-week check-up approaching, so if all goes well, I could be back on the field for round twelve.”
“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful news!” she says, excitement laced in her tone. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Gran.” I glance at the exit to the stadium, and with no sign of Tatum yet, I cast my gaze to my feet. “What’s new with you and Mia? Is your arthritis playing up again?”
“No, dear, my arthritis isn’t giving me too much grief these days. Having your sister here has been life-changing, and I couldn’t be more grateful.”
My brows crease into a frown as I read between the line of her words. “Why do I get the feeling there is abutyou’re not saying?”
