Page 35 of Unwritten Rules (The Sunburnt Hearts #1)

Chapter Fifteen

TATUM

S innett’s car is waiting for me when I close the front door. With my hands shoved into the front pocket of the dark green hoodie I threw on, I make my way down the path, unable to wipe the grin from my face.

When I got the text from Sinnett, I had been lying in bed reading a book.

After the events of last night, I needed time to myself to process everything that happened.

Dad knows I’m hungover, so he wasn’t surprised when I told him I was going to Maccas to get some greasy food.

The fast-food joint is a ten-minute walk, and he offered to drive me, but I played it off by saying I would be meeting Raya there and she’ll drive me home.

He smiled and told me he was happy I was settling in well and making friends.

Guilt burned like acid in my stomach, the lie having slipped easily from my lips without much thought.

I don’t like lying to my father, especially since we’re rebuilding a relationship that weathered away from years of minimal engagement.

But he can’t know about Sinnett. If he even slightly catches wind that I’m spending time with him, or anyone on the team for that matter, he will lose his shit.

Keeping him in the dark is best. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself as I slip into the passenger seat of Sinnett’s car.

I’m immediately hit by a puff of cinnamon and cedarwood, and the most stunning man to ever walk this earth.

Sinnett’s right hand grips the steering wheel while the other rests on his thigh, rubbing the area in slow circles.

Even in the dark, with minimal lighting from the streetlamps, his ocean eyes are bright.

Just being this close to him, feeling the warmth radiating from his body and happily drowning in his familiar scent, a shiver races down my spine.

“Hi, Sinnett.”

“Hi, Tatum.” Sinnett pulls the car onto the street, driving with no destination in mind. “Thanks for agreeing to come for a drive with me.”

Warmth spreads across my cheeks as I shift in the leather seat. “Are you okay?”

His eyes flick from the road to me. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Well, you’re gripping the wheel so tightly your knuckles are as white as a ghost, and your shoulders are tense.” I shrug. “A drive like this means something is bothering you.”

Sinnett’s jaw ticks. “How is it that you can read me like a book?”

“I’m very perceptive.”

He exhales a sharp breath. “Maybe a little too much.”

“Is it about last night?” I squeeze out, my chest tightening. “Because if it is, we can forget it happened.”

Sinnett’s eyes widen as he snaps his head in my direction. “What? No. Tate, this has nothing to do with what happened last night. If it was, I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me.”

Relief floods my system. Thank God.

We haven’t spoken since he kissed me out the front of my house, soaked to the bone from the rain.

He sent a quick text to let me know he had gotten back to his apartment, but after that, I passed out.

And when the morning rolled around, I was far too tired to be on my phone, instead choosing to flip between sleeping, watching a trashy reality TV show and reading my book.

I had considered texting him to see how he was doing throughout the day, but ultimately decided not to.

Sinnett made the first move with the kiss, so I wanted to allow him to make the next one, giving him that time to decide if what he did was a mistake or not.

If my current position is anything to go by, I would say he’s not filled with regret. Yet.

I shift so my back is pressed against the door and my right leg curls into the seat. “Then what’s going on? If you want to tell me, of course.”

“I might need your killer playlist to get through this,” Sinnett rasps.

My eyes widen. “Oh, right! I forgot.”

“Too distracted by me, strawberry?” Sinnett wiggles his brows while I fiddle around with the built-in car system.

“No,” I mumble, heat pooling at the base of my throat. “Not at all.”

Sinnett hums in response, and within a minute, my phone is connected to the car Bluetooth.

I tap on the playlist I finalised seconds before Sinnett told me he was outside.

My usual playlist I created with Noah and Nathan for our late-night drives isn’t exactly Sinnett’s vibe.

He enjoys rock music and leans more toward an alternative sound, so I made sure to include as many as I could.

I did throw in some curve balls though, hoping he’ll enjoy them.

“November Rain” by Guns N Roses blasts through the speakers. Sinnett drums his hands on the steering wheel, a smile tilting the corners of his mouth.

“I love this song,” he says, nodding his head along to the opening notes. “A masterpiece, if you will.”

“My parents danced to this as their first dance song at their wedding,” I say, smiling. “All eight minutes of it.”

Sinnett smiles. “Really?”

“Really really. My dad loves this song, and while my mum wasn’t overly into it, Dad let her pick the rest of the songs for the ceremony, so she let him pick their first dance song.”

“How cool,” Sinnett breathes. “Coach Phil just keeps getting cooler and cooler.”

“He is.” I clear my throat and shoot him a pointed look. “No more distractions,” I scold playfully. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Sinnett heaves a sigh and drags his bottom lip between his teeth, as if choosing his words carefully.

He isn’t the type of person to open up about himself easily, if our past conversations are anything to go by.

But I’ve slowly been breaking down his walls so that I can catch a glimpse of what he keeps close to his chest.

“I had dinner with my parents tonight.”

I raise a brow at him. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“Because they don’t care about me,” he offers, voice tight. “I mean, they do care about me, but not in the way that matters.”

“Keep going,” I press gently, my full attention locked on the man struggling to find the right words to say. “Take your time.”

“I, um…” He swallows, grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“I don’t know how to talk to them and vice versa.

All they care about is my career and trying to mould my sister into the perfect daughter with a high paying career.

No matter how many times I tell them that they can’t change Mia’s ambitions or ask them to stop breathing down my neck, it falls on deaf ears. It’s exhausting.”

And there it is. The weight that has been pressing down on Sinnett’s shoulders makes sense.

I might not fully understand what he’s dealing with, but I’m empathetic enough to know that the kind of pressure he’s referring to is more than one person can take.

Not only does Sinnett have enough on his plate in terms of his career and now his injury being in the spotlight, but throwing parents in the mix who are overbearing and don’t understand boundaries would make any normal person want to scream.

“They don’t want to know about me, the real me, and it hurts,” Sinnett continues, voice strained. “All they care about is making sure I thrive in my career, uphold my father’s legacy in the league and make good on the Baxter family name.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to shoulder,” I offer, keeping my voice level. “You’re doing a good job of keeping your head held high.”

“But I’m fucking drowning in the process and they can’t see that.”

The ending notes of “November Rain” gives way to the start of “Demons” by Imagine Dragons; a coincidence given the nature of the song and the conversation at hand.

I reach across the console and place my hand on Sinnett’s thigh, needing to comfort him in some way because what do I say to that?

I expect him to stiffen under my touch, but he surprises me by releasing a breath he had been holding and sinking into the seat.

“I shouldn’t even be telling you this,” he murmurs, voice deep. “This is far from a first-world problem.”

“Yes, you should,” I urge. “You need to tell someone, because the longer you hold onto these feelings, the worse it’s going to get down the line.”

“I don’t like airing out my dirty laundry.”

“All you’re doing is getting the pressure off your chest to make room for fresh air and a clear mind.

” I squeeze his thigh, and his hand covers mine.

Warmth explodes in my chest at the feel of his rough skin against mine.

“If you let the weight of your parents’ expectations push you down, you’ll never get back up again.

At the end of the day, you’re living this life for yourself, not anyone else. You, Sin.”

Sinnett swallows hard. “I hear you, Tate.”

“Good.” I lean over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, the short stubble he hasn’t shaved off yet prickling against my skin. “Now let me hear you say it.”

He frowns. “Say what?”

“That you’re not going to let your parents push you down.”

Sinnett sighs. “Tate…”

“Please?”

“Okay, fine,” he huffs. “I won’t let my parents push me down.”

“Like music to my ears,” I drawl as pride spreads through my body. “Now let’s listen to some music, okay? It’s what I’m here for, right?”

Sinnett sweeps his gaze over me, eyes lingering on my lips. Half of his face is shrouded in darkness, while the other dances with tiny fires that makes my stomach flip flop like I’m on a rollercoaster.

“Sure, strawberry.”

For the next hour, Sinnett drives around the suburbs of North Sydney with only the songs from my playlist to guide us.

His confession about his parents has me wondering what it was like growing up with them and if they were always this hard on their kids.

I don’t know much about his sister’s situation, but I can’t imagine what Sinnett has had to deal with since going pro.

He’s not living this life for himself anymore, and it shows in the pressure he bears and the self-doubt that lingers at his edges.