After Cindy dropped me off, I ignored the incessant questioning from my brothers. Locking myself in my room, I only let my mom in, who says, “Your father wants to know what to tell your brothers.” I knew what she meant.

As much as he lets all of us come and go, learning on our own, and allowing Tomás to imitate and enforce the rules he’s set up from when Tomás was the only child, he’s still my dad. Our dad. He’ll protect us, and he’ll protect me, making sure my brothers don’t let anyone hurt me or keep hurting me.

“I’m fine, Mamá,” I tell her, finally holding back my tears. “It’s my own fault. I thought I could be something I’m not.”

After giving me a reassuring nod and hug, she leaves my room. I sink into my bed and do everything I can to block out Lana’s words. To ignore the memory of Micah’s face when he thought I’d cheat on him. To even forget Cindy’s silence as she drove me home, not saying a word. I want to forget all of it.

Waking up the next morning, I still have no idea what to do. Then I see a text message from Micah.

But I don’t. Because what is there left to say? What can we say to each other to get over this? I gave him no reason to think I’d ever cheat on him, but that’s what he went to first. He never acted insecure about the strength of our relationship, but that’s where his head went.

And me? He never once made me feel like I’m anything but perfect to him. But my thoughts have never changed. And what Lana said, even if it is in the past, still boils within.

I don’t text him back the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that one. I don’t reply to him when he texts me again, asking me to talk. Or when he DMs me after I post a depressing quote. Or when he responds to a picture I posted of the sunset with the caption: ‘Even on the brightest day, the sun still sets.’

It’s not that I don’t want to talk to him. But I’m terrified of coming to terms, feeling like everything is fine between us and in a day, a week, or a month, seeing some girl flirt with him and my brain going into overdrive. Of all my insecurities resurfacing and thinking how some random girl is someone way better for Micah than I am.

“What are you doing here, asshole?” Miguel’s words ring out from the living room, and my heart leaps into my throat. He’s texted, but he’s left the ball in my court. I’m not sure what to even tell him if I see Micah standing at my door.

But it’s not Micah I see at the doorway.

“Tim?” Miguel glances back at me, disapproval smeared across his face. Ignoring him, I approach the door and try to move Miguel back, but he stays planted next to me. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, V,” he says quietly, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Miguel and myself. “I tried texting you, but I never got a reply.”

“Oh.” Averting my gaze, I pick at the wooden door frame. “I blocked your number.”

“Good,” Miguel says. “Since he’s blocked he can get his ass out of here.”

“Mike,” I reprimand him.

“Don’t Mike me.”

Looking back at Tim, I have no idea why he’s here, but I don’t want Miguel grilling him either. “Come in—”

“No,” Miguel interrupts. “He’s not coming in this house.”

We stand there, a stalemate taking place between us. I know he’s just being protective, but what happened between Tim and me happened a long time ago. It sucks, and it still makes me feel stupid, but the last time we talked, he also seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Fine, let’s go to the backyard, Tim.” I step outside, walking around the house without waiting.

Hurried footsteps follow behind me. “I know it’s been a while, but the last time I talked to Miguel, we seemed cool.”

“When was that?” I ask, opening the gate to our backyard and walking over toward the large table and bench we have set up.

“I don’t know, it’s been a while. Last year sometime.”

I feel a redness creep up my neck, as I lean against the table. “Oh, yeah, that’s probably my fault. I never told them what you did. But a while back we got into an argument, and I did.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No,” he answers, looking away shamefaced. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I was always curious why none of your brothers tried to knock me out after it happened. Now I know. I’m the one who’s sorry, V.”

A silence drifts between us. He still doesn’t seem how he has in the past; cocky and arrogant. He bobs his head, giving me a timid smirk, before taking a seat on the bench. His shoulders are slouched, and he interlocks his fingers on the table. He almost seems nervous.

Taking a seat across from him, I continue to wait quietly, still unsure what he’s even doing here.

“So …” I finally utter, not sure if he’s going to say anything at all.

His eyes find mine, giving me an unsure grin. “I saw one of your posts yesterday.”

Please don’t say the quote. Please don’t say the quote.

“The one with the quote.”

“Oh.”

“Everything okay?”

I have no idea how to answer him. No, everything is certainly not okay. But there’s no way I’m telling him that. As much as I feel like he was genuine when we talked last, and as sweet as it seems to be that he’s here to see if I’m okay, I still remember what he did to me. Even if I didn’t, he’s my ex-boyfriend. I’m not going to talk to him about problems I’m having with Micah.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Veronica, look, I know what I did. But I was serious when I told you that I’m really, genuinely sorry. I’ve been seeing what you’ve been posting, and while it’s all pretty vague, anyone that knows you probably knows there’s something more going on. Seriously, if you want to talk, I’m here.”

Looking back up at him, I can’t help an unbelieving chuckle that escapes me. “This is super weird.”

For the first time in I don’t know how long, he smiles the same smile that I used to crush on. Thin lips curving, his left side just slightly higher than his right, giving him a flirty, crooked-grin that always hit me hard. That smile, combined with those ocean eyes, I remember why I first liked him. I can’t stop the small smirk from forming.

“Well, you always said I was weird,” he jokes.

“Yeah, but that was only about the things you eat. Who eats pickles dipped in mayo?”

His laugh turns my smirk into a full-blown smile. “I still can’t believe you never tried them. They’re delicious.”

“Okay, weirdo.” A soft laugh between us levels out the awkward silence. “Thank you for coming over, that’s really sweet. But seriously, I’m good.”

“Yeah, because when someone quotes Nietzsche, that always means they’re good.”

“It’s nothing, Tim,” I say, looking away. “It’s just stuff going on between Micah and me. I … I really don’t feel comfortable talking about it with you.”

“Okay,” he nods, “I can respect that. But just so you know, I am here, V.” Reaching out, he grabs hold of my hand over the table, catching me off-guard. I stare at his hand over mine, remembering the times he held it before. “I’ve screwed up in the past. I broke your trust, and I wasn’t lying when I said I regret it. Every day I regret it. It just took me getting my head on right to realize that.”

Pulling my hand away, I stand up from the table. “Tim, I don’t know what you think you know, but we’re not broken up. Micah and me, I mean. We have this thing going on, but he’s still my boyfriend. We’re still together.”

“I know that,” he answers, getting to his feet. “But I also know you’re amazing, Veronica.”

I scoff and make air quotes with my fingers. “Yeah, for a ‘big girl’.”

“I was just saying stupid shit,” he replies, cringing, and I roll my eyes at him. “Sorry, that’s neither here nor there. I know what I said, and I’m sorry. You’re not, like, morbidly obese or anything.”

“Tim, you aren’t helping.”

“I know.” He grimaces. “Damn it, you see, I’m horrible with words. I was stupid. I’ll keep saying it because it’s the truth. I was a complete ass, and I’ll apologize every day until you believe me. And that’s why I’m here.”

“I do believe you.”

“No,” he takes a step closer, grabbing my hand again, “I know you do, but I’m not talking about me. After finally realizing my mistake, I had to tell you. I knew I would never feel right unless you knew how sorry I was. I’m here because your jealous ass of a boyfriend should feel the same way.” I take a step back, but he grabs my other hand. “Please, I know what you said. I know you guys are together still. But why hasn’t he fixed this, Veronica? Whatever’s going on between you two, why isn’t he the one here right now, telling you he’ll do everything he can to make it right? That’s why I’m here. That, and this …”

I’m not sure how to comprehend anything that’s happening. He has no clue what the situation is between Micah and me, which is why his questions make no sense. Micah didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one with the problem. But his words, the closeness of him, they both keep me frozen in place. Then he leans over and kisses me.

For a split-second, I remember the kisses we’ve shared. I remember, no matter how bad things ended between us, how it felt when he’d hold my hand or kiss me. But all it takes is that split-second to realize it’s nothing compared to what I feel when I’m with Micah.

Yanking my hands free, I push him away. “What are you doing?”

“I want you back, Veronica. It took me over a year to figure it out, but I do. I want a second chance.”

“You’re crazy.” I cross my arms, trying to give him as much of a hard-nose stare as I can. “You just said it yourself, it took you a year. A year, Tim. To realize that you actually like me? And figure it out? Seriously, you shouldn’t have to ‘figure it out’ when you like someone. Maybe if you’re falling in love, but we never loved each other. At least, not in a real way.”

“But I want to, V.” He steps closer, holding my face, inching his lips closer to mine. Uncrossing my arms, I place my hands against his chest, making sure I keep a barrier between us. “I want to try again with you. Please?”

Floating even closer, his cobalt eyes pierce mine. I remember when we went out, wanting nothing more than for him to be like he is now. Holding me, telling me he desires me. But it’s not what I want anymore. No matter what my extreme inhibited mind tells me about how I think Micah feels, he’s never done something to make me question his words. I do the questioning all on my own. And whatever I think may happen now, there’s no way I want to go back to someone who had me and let me go, instead of being with someone who has me now and loves me.

“Am I interrupting something?”

My head jolts to the side and I see Micah, standing in front of the sliding door that leads inside.

“Micah,” I whisper his name, unsure if he even hears me.

“Yeah. You know, your boyfriend? And the guy you’ve been ignoring. But I guess I see why now.”

“What?” I look back at Tim, who’s still staring at me like he’s waiting for my response to what he said and completely ignoring the fact that’s he’s holding my face as Micah scowls. “No!” I jump back. “No, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Right.” He narrows his eyes, keeping them locked solely on me. “Because you and your ex always just stand around with your hands on each other talking.”

“No!” I yell again, running over to him. “Micah, you have to believe me. This … this is nothing.” I spin around and look at Tim. “Tim, tell him. Tell him this isn’t what it looks like.” He shrugs with a smug cavalier expression. My mouth drops. “Tim! Tell him!”

“You know what? Save it, okay?” Micah turns around and walks through the sliding door, into the house. “When Miguel texted me to get my ass over here, I thought something was wrong. That you were hurt or something.”

I hurry in front of him, blocking his exit through the front door. “Micah, you need to listen to me. I’ve never lied to you. Please, you have to believe me. This is nothing. Tim came over here, and he was talking, but I was telling him no.”

“That didn’t look like you were telling him anything.”

“I know that’s not what it looked like, but I was! I promise you, I was. He even kissed me and—”

“He kissed you?”

I cringe at my stupidity. “Yes, but I pushed him away. I don’t want him, Micah.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t seem like you want me either.”

He tries to move again, but I press my hands against his chest. I know my parents aren’t home, neither is Javier, but I don’t know where Miguel and Tomás are. Hopefully they aren’t around listening, because I feel like such an idiot. As vast as my insecurity is about my weight, I have no idea how I’ll break through Micah’s fear of someone cheating on him. But if nothing else, he has to believe I would never do that.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, but I needed time. I still do. I don’t know how to feel about anything.”

“You know what, just forget it.”

Forget what? How I’ve been ignoring him? What he thinks he saw? Or us? He can’t mean us.

Letting a deep breath out, he closes his eyes, slowly shaking his head. “I guess I’m the jackass, right? Maybe I’m the last person on Earth that thinks it’s not okay to cheat on someone. Lana did it. My dad did it. Now you.”

As much as it stings to think he believes that’s what I was doing, I’m completely shook at him naming his father. “Your dad?”

He lifts his hands high in complete exasperation. “Yeah! That was a juicy tidbit they left out of his bio. Jacob Fernandez: loving father, providing husband, and oh yeah, cheated on the woman who would be the mother of his son.”

“Oh my God, Micah. I’m sorry.” Stepping closer, I’m hit with a wave of rejection as he pulls his arms away.

“Don’t. Just forget it, Veronica. Forget everything.” His gaze meets mine, void of all emotion. “I guess you were right. I am too good for you.”

I don’t know what, if anything, he could’ve ever done in the past or in the future that would hurt and sting like those words. Words that confirm all of my insecurities. As I lift my hands to my mouth, his eyes follow the stream of tears that roll over my cheeks.

“Hey.” Micah turns around and is met by Tomás’ fist. I jump at the loud smack, watching Micah drop to a knee. “Get the fuck out of our house.”

Micah gets back to his feet, letting out a painful grunt, wiping away the blood from his lip. He takes one more look at me, then rushes through the front door.

“Veronica, you okay?” Tim’s words echo around me, but I can’t register anything anymore. I stand there, tears still falling, unsure if I’ll ever be able to forget Micah telling me he’s too good for me.

“Tim, unless you want the same thing, you’ll leave. Right now.”

My eyes finally lift, but I can’t stand to look at him for longer than a second. Maybe if he just told Micah the truth, none of this would have happened. Clinging to that thread of … hope? Despair? I muster up enough strength to form words as he passes me by.

“Don’t ever try to talk to me again. Ever.”

He stops and nods. Then he’s gone, too.

Tomás shuts the door and, without a word, wraps his arms around me. The dam breaks. My eyes flood and I sob deeply and loud into his chest, as he holds me, whispering to me that it’ll be okay. I wish I could believe him, but I don’t.