Page 19 of Unwritten Rules (The Sunburnt Hearts #1)

Mum and Dad share a tense look, one that has me wanting to scream.

It shits me that they’re so hellbent on controlling us.

I don’t care if they do it to me because I’m already strapped up like a marionette anyway, so I may as well roll with the punches.

But Mia has a chance to break free and make her own choices, free from what our parents want.

And I’ll be damned if they try to drag her into the fucking perfect world they’re trying to create.

“Sin,” Mum drawls, her voice even as she holds my gaze. “That’s not what we’re trying to do. We want the best for your sister.”

“No, you don’t.” My lungs burn as I shove the wooden chair back, the fabric napkin on my lap falling to my feet.

Pain spreads through my right quad, but I swallow it done and flick my eyes between my parents.

“You don’t want the best for her. You want to control her.

And I refuse to sit back and watch you do so.

You can dictate my life all you like, but Mia is a no-go. ”

“Sinnett!” Dad slams his hand on the table, rattling the wine glasses and cutlery.

His heated eyes find mine, burning with anger and frustration.

Tension coils the muscles beneath the suit jacket, mirroring my own hidden beneath the black hoodie I threw on before leaving the apartment.

“You do not get to speak to us like that.”

I bite my tongue, the sting of pain grounding me.

There’s no use in fighting them on the matter because they won’t change.

They don’t realise the iron thumb they hold over us, and how it impacts our lives.

Mia and I are too afraid to stand up to them for fear of what they might do or how they’ll react.

Neither of them would lay hands on us, but I have no doubt they would find some way to put us back in line.

As much as it pains me to keep my mouth shut and cop it on the chin, I’m willing to do it if it means I can keep the peace—for now.

“Whatever.” I step away from the dining table, my parents’ eyes heavy on the back of my head. “I’m leaving.”

“Sin, wait!” Mum calls out as I trudge through the dining room, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dad’s clipped tone grates against my ears, surging my steps forward, eager to get out of this fucking house.

“Out,” is all I manage as I step into the hallway. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with much needed air.

In my car, I drop my head against the headrest and expel a sharp breath. This has to be one of the worst weekly dinners I’ve shared with my parents. I didn’t think anything could come close to topping the dinner where Dad chewed my ass out after getting injured. Yet, here we are.

I rub a hand down the side of my face and reach for my phone tucked securely in my pocket. My thumb hovers over Khai’s contact name—which he changed to Big Dick for whatever fucked up reason, and I haven’t been bothered to change it since—before tapping the screen.

He answers on the second ring. “Did you forget your apartment keys again? I told you to start clipping them to your belt loop.”

“That was one time,” I respond gruffly, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t leave the apartment without them now.”

“Yeah, well, I can never be too sure with you.” Shuffling on his end grates on my nerves, setting me further on edge. Khai exhales sharply. “What’s up, then? Aren’t you supposed to be having dinner with your parents?”

“Plans changed.” He doesn’t need to know about my family issues, despite what he already knows about my parents. Khai has his own family shit to deal with. “Call up some of guys to see if they want to go grab a drink.”

More shuffling, and I grip the steering wheel to keep from screaming at my best friend to quit fucking moving.

“A drink, you say? Well, you know I’m always down for a good time. Just can’t get too crazy since we have a training session in the morning.”

One that I’m not part of .

“That’s fine.” I jam the keys into the ignition, my car roaring to life. “I’ll see you soon then.”

Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting at a circle table with Khai to my right, Zane—the Wolves’ hooker—opposite me, and Nico—a front rower—to my left.

Numerous empty glasses of beer litter the table, and deep voices bouncing off the walls of the small bar.

OneRepublic’s “I Lived” plays from the speakers in the roof, some of the lyrics getting drowned out by the steady flow of conversation and laughter.

I met the guys at The Rusty Barrel since it is the closest bar to the apartment I share with Khai.

It is our go-to when we want to grab a couple of beers and don’t feel like crossing the bridge to get to the heart of Sydney.

Al, the owner, has every sport imaginable playing on the TV screens in the back room, keeping patrons entertained until the wee hours of the morning.

A karaoke machine occupies the front room, allowing drunk people who are too far gone to care about their dignity to get on the small stage and belt out the lyrics to “Mr. Brightside” and “Sweet Caroline”.

I’ve seen Khai get on that stage far too many times to count on both hands.

“I still can’t believe you went home with her,” Zane snorts, pointing a finger at Nico, red-faced. “She was fucking crazy .”

“Yeah, crazy hot and a freak in the sheets,” Nice retorts, shoving at Zane’s shoulder, who has to grip the edge of the table to not topple out of the chair.

“Let me guess, she blows up your phone every second of the day, wanting to talk to you or come by the training facility?” Khai wiggles his brows, sipping on a fresh beer. I bite back at grin as the colour drains from Nico’s face.

Nico expels a breath. “It’s fucking constant, I swear. I’m gonna have to change my number soon.”

The three of us burst out laughing at the expense of our friend.

Nico should’ve known better than to pick up a super fan and take them home to sleep with.

It’s a recipe for disaster. Not only do they become attached and obsess over you, but it has the potential to turn into a dangerous situation, one that leaves you having to deal with a stalker.

I mean, I would know, given my current situation with Zoe.

“You need to sort her out, man.” I clap Nico on the shoulder, the muscles stiff under my touch. “Or you could find yourself in some serious hot water.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, sipping on his beer. “I’ll sort it out.”

Zane turns his attention to me, tipping his chin up. “What about you, Sin? How’s the quad feeling?”

“Fine,” I bite out, rubbing my hand over my thigh. Talking about my injury is the last thing I want to do. It only serves as a reminder that I’m on the sidelines while my friends tear up the field. “I should be back in a couple of weeks.”

“If he gets cleared,” Khai adds. When he feels the heat of my glare on his face, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “What? It’s true. But don’t worry, you’re in good hands with Tatum.”

If I could wipe that knowing smirk off his face with the back of my hand, I would.

“Ah, yes, Tatum.” Zane’s eyes dart around the table. “What’s her deal anyway?”

Khai is quick to jab his thumb in my direction, the little shit. “Why don’t you ask our good friend Sin here.”

“Shut up, asshole,” I hiss under my breath, trying to stomp on his foot, but he’s quick to pull it away before the heel of my shoe can make contact with his toes.

Nico frowns. “Why? What do you know that we don’t?”

“Well, let’s just say he knows an intimidate detail or two about our new physio.”

Heat burns the tips of my ears, my fingers curling into fists on my thighs.

Oh, I’m so going to kill him when we get home .

Zane and Nico snap their gazes to me, realisation swirling in their eyes.

“You hooked up with Coach’s daughter?” Zane all but shouts in the busy bar.

Nico is quick to slap a hand over Zane’s mouth before I can reach across the table and do the same, but in a way that would hurt ten times more. His blinks rapidly, as if that’ll help him understand the bomb Khai just dropped.

“I thought Coach Phil said his daughter was off-limits.” Nico lowers his hand to wrap around his beer. “How did you bag Tatum so quickly?”

I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “That’s not what happened.”

Khai grins. “Please do tell what happened.”

My jaw ticks as I mouth, I’m going to kill you .

My best friend laughs like a banshee.

“Come on, don’t leave us hanging.” Zane shifts on the seat, resting his elbows on the table. “And don’t leave out any details.”

I huff and lean back on the chair. “It’s nothing, really. We hooked up when I was in Barrenridge two weeks ago. End of story.”

“That’s it?” Nico deadpans, eyes flicking from me to Zane and Khai. “What are the chances of that happening?”

“Very fucking high, apparently,” I grumble. To put out some of the flames burning in my chest, I take a long sip of the Carlton Dry beer. Tastes like shit, but it does the job of easing the tension coiling in my back and pressure weighing on my chest.

“You lucky fucker.” Nico jams his fist into my shoulder, shoving lightly. “Well, not entirely lucky because if Coach finds out you touched his daughter, then you’re dead meat.”

“I know,” I murmur, eyes focused on the condensation racing down the side of the glass. “Believe me, I know.”

“You not gonna share the details with us?” Zane questions, wiggling his brows. “Come on, I thought we were friends. You’ve never had any issues talking about any of the women you’ve slept with in the past.”

He’s right. I’m that asshole who regularly shares intimate details about the women I’ve slept with because it didn’t bother me whether anyone knew about it or not.

But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to talk about Tatum.

When I think about her soft jade eyes and strawberry blonde hair, I’m reminded of that night in my car.

At that moment, with her sitting on my lap, getting lost in the depths of her eyes, I forgot who I was for a moment—to the point I forgot to ask if she was on birth control, like an idiot.

I’m more careful than that because I have a reputation to protect, but back then, it was just the two of us.

And nothing outside of the car mattered.

Not my parents, sister, grandmother, career or public image.

It was just me and Tatum. And fuck, I would be lying if I said she wasn’t the most stunning woman I’ve ever met.

“Yeah, well, you’re not getting a speck of detail from me about Tate.” I scull the rest of my beer, slamming the glass down on the table. “And don’t tell anyone else on the team, okay? It doesn’t leave this table.”

My friends share a knowing look, their silence weighing heavily on my shoulders.

It’s Khai who breaks the silence by clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Sin. Your secret is safe with us.”

Secret. That’s what Tatum is. And possibly all she ever will be.

While I can’t get her out of my mind, and my body aches to touch her again, I know I can’t. At this point in my career, I can’t afford to lose sight of my goals. Tatum is the one rule I can’t break, no matter how badly I fucking want to.