Rumor Has It Box Set: The Complete Series, Books 1-5

by RH Tucker

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He would never.”

  “Ask your mom, she told me when I called her. She asked me not to tell you, but I can’t let you go. If they worked it out, and they love each other, we can work it out, too.”

  The malevolence writhes through me, as I take a step closer to her. Her back’s pressed against the tail end of my truck, and I lift my arms, leaning over her.

  “Listen to me, very carefully,” the words drip out like hot venom.

  “Micah, you’re scaring me.”

  “I don’t give a shit. You and me? We’re over. There will never, ever be anything between us again. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. I don’t care if you’re stuck in jail without a soul to call because you’ve turned your life so upside down that even your parents have disowned you.”

  Tears fall over her cheeks, but all I feel is apathy.

  “You told my girlfriend that you’re better for me because of our past. Let me tell you something, Lana. She’s my future. I may have learned how to fuck with you, but I know what it’s like to make love because of her. And now, you dare try to play my parents against me? Try to use them as some kind of pawn in this stupid, sick game you’re playing, to win me back. Fuck you, Lana.”

  “I’m not … I’m not trying to play anything. I love you!”

  “No. You only love yourself. Always wanting to have a good time, and damn anyone else’s feelings. I never want to see you again, Lana. Never.”

  Finally backing away, I reach for my key and get in my truck.

  She rushes to my window. “Please, Micah, I need you. You’re my home.”

  I start my truck. “No, I’m not. Not anymore.”

  The only two places I can think of going are to Veronica’s and my parents’ house. Because of how Veronica left, I decide to go to my parents first. In addition to it being closer to my apartment, I need to find out just what my mom told Lana and finally put the nail in the coffin of lies. Either she said it to make Lana feel better because she still feels something for her, or Lana made it up. She didn’t seem like she was lying, but I can’t imagine my mom making up a lie like that either.

  “Mom!” I call out, swinging open their front door. The house sounds empty, but the living room lights are on. “Hey, Mom, you home?” Still nothing.

  The nerves die down a bit. Both of their cars are in the driveway, so I know they didn’t go anywhere. Maybe they’re in the backyard, enjoying the evening by the pool.

  “Micah?” my dad calls out. Turning around, I see the back patio sliding-door open. “What’s up, son?”

  “Hey, where’s Mom?”

  I don’t want to ask him about it. He could be devastated to learn what my mom might have said, even if she was doing it in some kind of misplaced sympathy for Lana.

  “Her and your aunt decided to have a girls’ night. Shopping and dinner.”

  “Oh.” Going outside, I scan the area. He’s already changed out of the clothes he usually wears to work and is in shorts, sandals, and a T-shirt. “What are you doing?”

  Motioning to the grill behind him, he picks up a spatula. “We’ve had some steaks in the fridge for a few days. I figured I better grill them up before they go bad.”

  I stare aimlessly at the grill, nodding.

  “You okay, son?”

  “Yeah.” I nod again. “I just needed … I wanted to ask her something.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “Um, I don’t think so.”

  Lifting his shoulders, he offers me a smile, heading inside. “Okay, I’ll be right back. Gonna grab the steaks. Want anything to drink?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  He retreats inside while I take a seat on one of the patio chairs. This is stupid. Lana’s lying. She has to be. She played me twice, and now she’s trying to do it again by either blatantly lying about something or twisting whatever my mom told her. If I never see her again, it’ll be too soon.

  Then there’s Veronica. How in the hell did I never see that’s how she’s felt this entire time? I thought we were fine. We all have insecurities, I know I still do, which is why my first thought when I sensed something wrong was to assume she’s cheating on me. But how are we going to work through this? Is it even something we can work through? I don’t have the first clue what I can do to prove to her I don’t care if she’s tall, short, stick thin, or overweight. I just know I’m in love with her, but apparently that’s not enough.

  “What’s going on, son?” Dad breaks my thoughts, sitting on the opposite patio chair, setting down the steaks and a can of soda.

  “It’s …” He stares at me, but I’m not sure how to ask him.

  “Is this about you and Veronica?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Did you guys finally talk?”

  I let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Oh, we talked all right.” He waits patiently for me to fill him in. “She’s not cheating on me.”

  “That’s good. Right?”

  Taking a deep breath, my cheeks expand as I slowly let it out.

  “I have no idea. Dad, everything is all screwed up.” I get up from my chair, nervously pacing. “She’s not comfortable around me. She thinks I can do better than her, because of … I don’t even know. Her weight? How I look? I’m still confused. And then Lana went and shit all over everything.”

  “Lana? What does she have to do with this.”

  Leaning over the chair, and I hang my head between my shoulder. “We were supposed to meet up tonight, me and Veronica. Talk everything out.” I pull out the key from my pocket, staring at it. “I even got a damn key for her. I thought we’d talk and maybe if I showed her that I want her around all of the time, maybe if she could come and go as she pleased, we could get past whatever’s been going on. When I got to the apartment, Veronica was already leaving. Lana was there. They talked, about what I still don’t have a clue, I just know Lana basically told her we’re soulmates. I have no idea what I’m going to do or if I can even do anything at all. And then …” Shaking my head, I let out another chuckle. “Then Lana really tried to mess with me.”

  I finally look at him, finding his gaze locked on me—sympathetic to everything I’m going through and being the tree of truth I’ve always leaned on.

  “Dad, I can’t believe I’m even saying this to you. I was going to ask Mom because that’s who Lana said it was, but … damn it, I have to know what she said, and maybe you know. Maybe Mom told you.”

  “What is it? I know your mother liked Lana, she hoped for the best for you guys. You two reminded her so much of us.”

  His smile is warm. His words are comforting. Which makes the sting I feel that much more abundant.

  I grumble lower before finally holding his gaze. “Dad, she told me you cheated on Mom. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why she’d ever say that. Lana knows how close we are. Does she think saying something like that will make me want to rely on her more? I need to know what Mom told her. Did she tell you anything?”

  Our eye line never breaks. I knew it. He can’t believe it. Mom never told her any of that shit. Lana made it all up.

  “No. Your mother never said anything to me.”

  “That bitch.” I can’t help the vulgarity that escapes me. “I knew she was lying. I can’t believe I ever dated her. How could she make something like that up?”

  “Micah—”

  “No, Dad. I don’t care what you say, that’s crossing the line. So, not only is Veronica gone, for who knows how long, maybe forever, but now she’s trying to mess with my life and turn me against my own family.”

  “Micah.” His voice is compassionate but stern, making me stop and look at him. “She wasn’t lying.”

  “What?”

  “Lana. She isn’t making it up.”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded, unable to grasp his meaning. “What? What do you mean she isn’t lying? Dad, she said you cheated on Mom.”

  “I know. And I did.”r />
  “What?” It’s still not computing.

  “It was a long time ago before you were born. We were in college and—”

  “No! No, no, no. What? What are you telling me?”

  “Micah, calm down.”

  “Calm down?” He gets to his feet, and I take a step back, unable to recognize the man I’ve looked up to my entire life. “What the fuck, Dad?”

  “Micah, listen to me—”

  “Listen to you? Are you serious right now?”

  He takes a step toward me, but I curve around the table, keeping my distance. “It was a long time ago. Your mom and I aren’t perfect, and just like everyone else, we had our own issues to work out.”

  “Issues to work out? You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m sorry, son. I am. It’s true. Your mom probably told her hoping you might give her another chance like she did with me.”

  “Another chance? Another chance, Dad?”

  He tries to get closer to me, but I continue to back away from a man I don’t recognize anymore. “Just sit down, Micah. Let me explain—”

  “Fuck you and your explanation.” The pain on his face is as if I just hit him.

  I’m lost. Adrift in an ocean I thought I knew my way around and now everything—everything—is completely upside down.

  “Micah—”

  “No!” I scream at him, throwing the chair I was sitting in across the backyard, sending it into the pool. “I can’t believe this.” He’s gotten closer and reaches out, giving my shoulder a squeeze, but I recoil. The hurt on his face is worse than when I told him off. “Don’t touch me! I don’t even know you anymore.”

  “I’m still your father. I’m still the same—”

  “There’s nothing about you that’s the same! Don’t you get that? Nothing.”

  Without waiting for anymore possible explanations, lies, or deceptions, I whirl around and dash through the house. Getting to my truck, I sit inside for a moment, trying but failing to digest everything that’s happened.

  “Micah!” Dad calls out.

  I see him standing at the front door, but don’t answer. Instead, I turn over the engine and speed off, unsure of anything in my life anymore.

  Chapter 32

  Veronica

  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.

  Micah: Veronica please call or text me. Please.

  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.”