Page 83 of Unwritten Rules
“Sinnett,” Dad scolds, brows creasing into a frown. “What the hell has gotten into you these past few weeks? All you do is back-chat your mother and I when we try to talk to you, and don’t even get me started on how you react when we bring up your sister.”
I focus on my breathing and not the anger pooling in my veins. If I give in to his baiting and fight back, it’ll do nothing but prove him right, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
“I’m fine, Dad,” I say through gritted teeth. “I just don’t need you and Mum breathing down my neck every second of every day.”
“We’re only trying to be supportive of you, especially with your injury.” Dad sighs and shakes his head. “I thought I raised you and Mia better than to turn your back on family when all we’re trying to do is look out for you.”
Breathe, Sin.
If you fight back, it’ll only make things worse.
“I’m not doing this with you,” I bite out, flexing my hands on my thighs. “I’m busy.”
Dad’s jaw clenches, his features tight as if he’s weighing if he wants to continue pushing me or let it go. Deep down, I hope he chooses wrong so I can let go of everything I’ve been holding onto for years, but I know it would leave behind a wound that can’t be fixed. I’m not sure now is the right time to play that hand.
He rolls his tongue in his cheek and nods, taking a step back. “Fine. But this conversation isn’t over, Sin.”
“Wonderful,” I murmur, holding his gaze.
“Your mother and I will see you at the game tomorrow,” he continues, ignoring my sarcastic remark. “With it being your first match back, you better be on your A-game, Sin. Everyone will be watching you. Your teammates are going to rely on you to get them a win, so you better be sure you live up to the standard.”
Fucking hell. If I wasn’t already feeling the pressure before, now I’m being crushed by an expectation I’m not sure I can maintain, especially returning after an injury.
“I’ll do my best,” I squeeze out past the lump in my throat. Dad doesn’t say goodbye; he simply nods before turning to leave the room, passing Khai as he enters.
Am I going to be the same player I was before I got injured?
What if I hurt my quad again?
What if I let the team and the club down?
My chest aches from the earlier training and the conversation with my dad, but I can’t let on to Khai just how fucking worried I am about returning to the field.
My best friend drops onto the bench beside me, gripping his water bottle. His training jersey is smeared with grass stains and dirt, mirroring mine.
“God, that was fucking rough,” he groans, slumping forward with his elbows resting on his dirt covered knees. “I swear Todd was tougher on us because you’re back and needs to whip you into shape.”
“Either way, I think he destroyed a part of my soul,” I grunt, and heave in a lung full of air.
“Is everything okay with your dad?” Khai asks, lifting his head, pale green eyes filled with curiosity. “He looked kinda pissed just now.”
My jaw clenches. “Everything is fine. He came by to see how I was adjusting to being back at training.” I don’t want to bum my friend out with the truth.
Khai regards me for a moment, as if searching for a sign that shows I’m lying. If he looks hard enough, he might find it.
He smiles, warming the ice that has found its way into my veins. “It’s good to have you back, man. I don’t think the rest of the guys will admit it, but we’ve been a little lost these past six weeks without you. Jace has been playing well, and we’ve only lost two games, but still. We felt the lack of your presence out there.”
Can this fucker read my mind? With how well we know each other, it wouldn’t surprise me if he developed a sixth-sense that allows him to read my thoughts through my expressions.
I exhale a sharp breath and clap him on the shoulder. “You better not be fucking with me right now.”
My best friend snorts a laugh. “Me? I would never, Sin. But I’m serious. We’re all looking forward to having you out on that field tomorrow night.”
Despite the turmoil of doubt sweeping through my veins, I manage a smile. “I’m looking forward to getting back out there.”
The rest of the team files into the room—conversations bounce off the walls and music from someone’s speaker wraps around me. Ever since Tatum told me the proper way of listening to music—to feel each lyric and relate them to a personal experience—it’s all I do in my spare time. When I’m not with Khai in the gym or sticking to the training schedule, I’m in my room listening to the playlist she created for me. I often find myself wondering the kinds of playlist she would listen to, and if they’re anything like what she makes for me. I don’t know how she did it, but each song feels curated to my life somehow. I’ve spent hours with the playlist on repeat, allowing each song to delve deeper into my bones and reach my soul. It’s at the point where I know each song by heart and have an experience I can relate to the lyrics.
Even now as “She’s Got Issues” by The Offspring seeps into the walls of the room, all I can think about is my time with Zoe. Khai repeatedly warned me not to go there with her because she is possessive and manipulative, but my stupid ass didn’t listen. Instead of thinking with my head, I thought with my dick, and look at where it’s gotten me.
