Page 24 of Unwritten Rules
“Mhm,” I hum as I extend his leg and push it toward the roof. Another sharp intake of breath. “And I call bullshit.”
Sinnett scoffs, drawing my gaze from his thigh to his bright eyes. There’s an emotion swirling behind them I can’t seem to place.
“Are you calling me a liar?” he deadpans.
I lower his leg on the table, meeting his eyes. “I’m saying you’re not being honest about the pain you’re in.”
Sinnett pushes himself up on his elbows, biceps bulging as he holds eye contact. His jaw clenches, eyes thinning. For a split moment, I’m convinced he’s going to tell me to go fuck myself and storm out of the room. But he surprises me by dropping onto his back and sighing.
“If I reveal how painful this fucking injury is, I might be out for longer than planned.”
My chest tightens at his admission. “Sin, if you lie about the pain, I can’t help you the way I’m meant to. Knowing exactly how you’re feeling and where it hurts will allow me to adjust your recovery plan and make sure you’re healed by the six-week mark.”
His throat works a swallow. “And if I don’t?”
I exhale a low breath. “Then I won’t be able to clear you to play.”
Sinnett shoves his palms into his eyes and groans.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to be in his shoes, not knowing how the injury is going to heal or when he’ll get to play again. But these types of injuries make you play the waiting game. Being thrust into the unknown is what makes people take chances and push boundaries that could result in making the injury worse.
“What should I do?” Sinnett rasps out, runing a hand through his hair.
“Follow the recovery plan I make for you,” I offer with a shrug. “And if you go at a steady pace and don’t push yourself too hard, you’ll make great progress in no time.”
He exhales a deep breath. “Can I trust you?”
My throat tightens. “I hope so.”
Ocean eyes clash with mine, a fire burning within them. His words hold a weight to them that I don’t understand or can’t comprehend yet. But I do know his recovery rides on my professional assessment, and given Sinnett’s status, it’s a pressure I’m not sure I’m ready to carry.
Sinnett sighs and pushes himself into a seated position, swinging his legs over the side. I stay rooted to the spot in front of the table, less than a metre from him.
“If you’re honest with me, I’ll do everything I can to help you,” I say, my voice gentle.
He nods and runs a hand through his hair—a habit I’m starting to pick up on. “Well, in the spirit of being honest, when you were riding me last week, my thigh hurt like a motherfucker.”
I blanch at his words, colour draining from my face until I’m a character from a black and white film. He didnotjust say that. “Sinnett!”
A smirk tilts his lips up. “You told me to be honest, strawberry.”
“I-I know, I just—” I hold up my hand and take a deep breath, steadying my racing heart. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“No need to apologise. I liked it, remember? Wanted it, even.”
I do indeed remember how well we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces and how he called me agood girl. Ournight together has been on replay in my mind for the past week, so of course, I remember.
“Yeah, well, you should’ve told me you were injured,” I murmur, rubbing my hand over my arm to distract my racing heart.
“And what?” Sinnett presses, tilting his head to the side. “I couldn’t take you back to my grandmother’s house, and I don’t do sleepovers. Besides, I think you enjoyed the car just as much as I did.”
Heat explodes across my cheeks. “Yeah, look, about that?—”
“Allow me,” he interjects, holding my gaze. “I’ll be the first to admit that the night we shared was mind-blowing. But knowing who you are… I can’t do it. My career comes first, and I don’t want to piss your dad off.”
My chest tightens with a pang of disappointment. I knew this conversation needed to happen eventually, but hearing the words come from his mouth is a shock to my system either way. We agreed that it was a one-time thing, but ever since that night, my body has craved more, despite me telling it to move on. And now Sinnett has hammered in the final nail on the coffin to something that was always just out of reach.
I swallow hard. “I understand. My father can be… overprotective of me at times.”
