Bad Rep

SIXTEEN

Rhodes leashes his frustration and impatience. "Then we'll come back here," he promises reluctantly.

I bite my lip, contemplating. It would be nice to have my stuff back...

"Okay," I breathe, mustering up the courage. "Okay, let's go," I say, my feet feeling like led as I follow him out to his truck.

Anxiety mixed with nausea sit heavy in the pit of my stomach as we drive to the house. Meanwhile, Rhodes seems fairly calm. Lethally calm. His spine is straight, his tattooed arm stretched out to control the steering wheel, his grip firm but not white knuckled.

My heartrate picks up as he turns into the subdivision, slowly pulling up to the house. There's no lights on inside or any cars in the driveway, but Eli always parks his truck in the garage.

"What do you think?" Rhodes asks, his deep voice making me jump.

"I think the coast is clear," I admit reluctantly.

Rhodes pulls into the driveway and puts the truck in park, hopping out first, encouraging me to follow suit.

I let out a long, shaky breath before unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing out of the car. Walking up to the garage, I punch in the code, holding my breath as the garage door rises, the hum of it ten times louder than I remember. I'm beyond relieved when I'm able to see inside to find the space empty, Eli's truck gone.

On quiet feet, I walk inside and open the door to the kitchen, flipping on the light. I take a walk around, everything in the house looks familiar, it even smells familiar, but it doesn't feel familiar. I know I've only been gone for a week, but it feels like a lifetime since I've been here.

It feels wrong and foreign stepping into a place I called home for the past couple of years, everything now tainted. I can tell Rhodes is just as uncomfortable, stepping into the home of a rival he's had since high school.

Swallowing back my emotions and the memories, I head for the bedroom, flipping on the light. The bed sheets are still the same, the bed made with Eli's clothes sitting at the foot of the bed. Often he would come home from work and quickly change into his gym clothes, leaving his work clothes on the floor until he came back from the gym.

I move to the closet, finding my suitcase on the top shelf, trying my best to ignore the fist starting to wrap uncomfortably around my chest. Sliding it off the top shelf, it tumbles into my arms. Before I can even fully turn around, a large hand reaches around me, grabbing the handle. Rhodes carefully takes it from my arms, carrying it to the bed.

Tuning back around, I stare into the closet, a gust of reality coming and punching me right in the gut. I stare at all of my things, all of Eli's things—our things—and a tight rope pulls at my neck.

In a fit of emotion, I scoop up as many coat hangers as I can, carrying them over to the bed and dropping them into the suitcase. I go back for another round, moving frantically, wanting to get the hell out of here.

Sensing my restlessness, Rhodes gently grabs my wrist after dropping the third round of clothes in, making me freeze. "Do you want me to get the rest of the clothes and you can start getting your stuff from the bathroom?" he asks gently.

I lower my gaze, refusing to look at him, because if I do I'm afraid I might crack.

I nod before finding a tote bag and heading to the attached bathroom, flicking on the too bright lights. Not paying too much attention, I begin swiping all of the products off of the counter and tossing them in the bag. It isn't until I pick up the hairbrush that I notice something is off. That this stuff isn't mine.

I dump everything out of the bag, inspecting it, realizing none of it is mine. I pick up the hairbrush again, finding dark brown strands woven between the bristles, making my stomach drop.

Images of him with the brunette that night flood my mind and make my knees weak once again. I vividly remember the way he smiled at her, smacked her ass, eagerly kissed her lips.

Bile rises to my throat and I quickly maneuver to the toilet, spelling the contents of my stomach into the porcelain.

Hearing my commotion, Rhodes quickly strides into the bathroom. "Claire?"

I hold up my hand, signaling for him to give me a minute.

Once I'm sure I'm done throwing up, I slowly stand and flush the toilet. I walk over to the sink to splash my face with cool water and rinse out my mouth as Rhodes stares at me helplessly through the mirror.

After drying off my face, I reach for my toothbrush next to Eli's in the holder on the counter, only to realize my toothbrush is gone, replaced by a neon pink one.

Anger rushes over me like a downpour, burning my eyes and searing every nerve ending in my body.

It hasn't even been a week. It hasn't even been a fucking week since I—his fiancée—left and he already has the girl he was cheating on me with staying over. Sleeping in our house. In our bed.

"Claire? What's wrong?" Rhodes ask.

"She's here," I choke out. "He fucking brought her here."

His dark brows pinch together in confusion. "Who—" he begins to ask, and I hold up the hairbrush. It takes him a moment to piece together what I'm saying, but I see the moment it clicks, his expression darkening.

Unable to stay in this house any longer, I brush past him, flinging open the drawers of the dresser to grab the remainder of my things, roughly shoving them in the suitcase. The zipper let's out a sharp whine as I zip it up and toss it on its wheels, dragging it behind me.

Rhodes follows me out to the kitchen, my eyes catching on a container of protein powder left out on the kitchen island instead of put back with all the others lining the counter under the window.

I always hated his protein powders lining the kitchen counter. It looks tacky. And it was like a constant reminder about how gym obsessed he is. How he continuously chose the gym over me. Over everything. I tried to get him to put them in a cabinet or in the pantry but he said that would be harder for him to "keep them organized" and "have easy access".

And now I know how much he loves easy access.

Bile rises to my throat again.

I skid to a stop, Rhodes nearly bulldozing into me. "Woah, wha—"

I march over to the island, picking up Eli's precious (not to mention expensive) protein powder, uncapping in and dumping it in the sink, down the drain.

A tingle of satisfaction runs through me and I reach for another one, dumping it into the sink. And another. And another.

I uncap another container, two, three, and shake out the powder all over the counter, the island, the floor, until everything is covered. Even my pants and shoes.

Feeling more than satisfied, a small smirk even tugging at my lips, I saunter back over to my suitcase.

"Okay, now we can leave," I state, heading for the garage, suitcase in tow.

"Wait," Rhodes says and I glance at him over my shoulder.

I watch as he studies my work—maybe even a little impressed instead of freaked out by my tantrum—contemplating something.

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind, stepping up to the island and using his index finger to write something in the powder. When he's done, he takes a moment to observe his work, pleased with himself. "Okay, now we can go," he states.

As he approaches, I crane my neck to see what he wrote, making out FUCK YOU.

A tingle of amusement (as well as appreciation) invades my chest, and he grabs my suitcase, carrying it out to the truck, and we leave.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Gah, I love them! Especially when Rhodes is all 👿 but also so 🥺.

Happy new year! I hope you all have an amazing, happy, and healthy 2024🤍

-Nicole