Page 10 of Tapped By My Roommate
“How about we grab a couple of boxes and get to work?” I suggested before Tess could take more shots at Ethan.
As we walked back to the car, Ethan muttered, “I left my stuff because she changed the locks on me before I could come back for it. We had this really ugly fight, and I had to go, you know? I couldn’t wait…”
“I get it,” I assured him. “She’s confrontational.”
Ethan glanced sidelong at me. “Very. I’m trying to stand up for myself, not be a pushover, but…”
I opened the car door and withdrew a couple of flat boxes. “She seems like an angry person. I don’t blame you for wanting out of that situation. And what I said last week, I didn’t mean…” I trailed off, trying to think of the words. “I wasn’t trying to say it’s your fault people take advantage of you. I’m sorry if it sounded that way.”
He shrugged, looking unhappy, and turned his attention to folding the box into shape. “I’ve never been good with conflict, but I’m working on it.”
I squatted beside him, folding my box in a few quick moves. “Enjoying conflict isn’t a good thing, and disliking it isn’t a flaw.”
He nodded once, flashing me a strained smile. “Thanks for helping me with this. I know this isn’t how you want to spend your time.”
I took in his pale face, the stress tightening his features, and the rigid set to his shoulders. No, this wasn’t fun. But I knew it was ten times worse for him than me. If I could make it better, I would. I nudged him. “I don’t mind helping. Besides, I owe you one for letting me delay the rent.”
“I would have done that anyway,” he said.
“And I would have done this anyway,” I shot back.
It was true, I realized. It would have been difficult to give up a night of work and tips—especially with Cary’s needs on the line—but I would have found a way to help Ethan. Even if it meant juggling my schedule or getting someone to cover me for an hour or two. Or, hell, taking out a payday loan. Those loans were a racket, but I’d never let my brother down.
Or my friend.
“Ready?” I asked him.
He nodded, rising to stand with me. Together, we headed inside.
* * *
ETHAN
Rhett patiently went through the house with me, putting up with Tess’s arguing over every item. Even things she’d hated. Like my funky clock on the wall in a starburst shape. Suddenly hers. My retro mushroom-shaped canisters in the kitchen, hers. Every piece of décor, hers.
Despite my many pep talks to myself, I mostly caved. I didn’t care about the clock, or the picture frames—full of pictures of Tess and Dan now; she hadn’t wasted any time—or even the microwave, toaster, and coffee pot. I picked my battles, knowing Tess would only give me a few wins.
And Rhett was my champion—stepping in to mediate. Somehow, he talked Tess into giving up the kitchen canisters when he heard me say they were a gift from my aunt. Same with the quilt made by my grandmother. Tess called me a liar, but Rhett cajoled her by pointing out the canisters were chipped and imperfect, that the quilt didn’t really match her decor. She eventually shrugged and said they were ugly anyway, like all of my belongings.
Made me wonder why she wanted to keep so many of them, then.
I kept my eyes peeled for Zilla. We’d kept the lizard in our bedroom, but I didn’t expect Tess to keep doing that. I didn’t see a terrarium in the living room, or the dining room, or the guest bedroom/office, though. My gut tightened as we headed for the shed out back. If she’d put Zilla out there, it would be bad news.
“You okay?” Rhett asked as we approached the shed.
I bit my lip and nodded. I hadn’t mentioned the iguana to him. I couldn’t sneak Zilla past Rhett, obviously, but I’d worried about how he might react to transporting a lizard, much less living with one.
We reached the shed. The wooden door was uneven, dragging over the ground, and Rhett grunted as he muscled it open. He was stronger than he looked. I noticed his biceps flexing in his T-shirt. He wasn’t some gym rat likeDan.He was lean, and his body hid his muscle, but he was strong.
I coughed as dust motes floated through the air. Rhett waved a hand in front of his face to clear them, and I pulled out my phone flashlight. It was dark in the old garden shed. It had no proper windows, and the door only opened a couple of feet—enough for us to squeeze in.
But it was easy to find my things—even in the dark.
“Damn,” Rhett said. “Your ex is something else.”
A pile of clothes had been dumped on the dirt floor. Tess hadn’t even bothered with the garbage bags I’d expected. I shone my light over them. “Well, I guess I can wash…”
My words died as Rhett picked up a T-shirt, holding it in front of the beam of my flashlight. It had a huge gaping hole where the chest should be. “What. The. Actual. Fuck?” he said.
