I cried the whole way home. Thatcher told me he knew something was wrong when Maverick came to pick up Bo. Other than that we haven't spoken much. We're both just so tired of everything. Ever since Rule and Ren died, we've both been so on edge and sad all the time. I think that contributed a lot to Marshall and I's fight.
Right now, Thatcher and I are sitting on my bed with our backs against the headboard. It has definitely been one hell of a night.
"So are you not friends with Maverick anymore?" He asks me after I've stopped crying.
"I don't know." I shake my head.
"I can't believe he left you there. I know Marshall was there but that doesn't seem like something Mav would do."
"I thought I knew him, but there were some guys at the ring that recognized him. I think they were scared of him." I take in a deep breath and exhale it slowly. "Clearly I don't know him as well as I thought."
"And Marshall?" He prompts, just trying to make sense of the whole thing.
"Marshall." I say, my eyes instantly refilling with tears at any mention of his name. "He told me that getting back together was a mistake." I feel the crying in my stomach and it boils up until the tears rain out of my eyes. "I think we broke up."
"You know what Rach?" He asks, putting his arm around me and letting me cry into his chest. "Fuck him. You don't need to be treated like this anymore."
"I can't just say 'fuck him' and move on Thatch." I explain, blinking desperately trying to calm down. "I love him."
"I know you do, but at some point this is just gonna keep causing the two of you pain." He tells me, rubbing my shoulder. "I just don't like seeing you hurt Rach, that's all."
I cry only for a moment or two longer and then just lay there with him. This sucks. I hate fighting with Marshall so much. He becomes so hateful and knows exactly what will hurt me the most, it's almost like he's a different person. His anger speaks for him, and I know he doesn't mean much of what he says but I feel like if he loved me as much as he said he did he would've done something to control it. He can't say that stuff to me, I would never throw something like that in his face no matter how mad I am.
I sit up again and check my phone, I had put it on silent because I knew he would try to call me. He's texted twice, no calls. I don't want to open them but I know that I have to. They're from an hour ago, and I pull them up.
Marshall: Tell me when you're home, please. I need to know you got home safe.
I should've never let you walk. Rachel I know you're pissed, just answer me.
I'm in this midst of typing a response when there's knocking on our front door. Thatcher rolls his eyes and stands up. We both know who it is.
"Let me guess." He says. "His sorry ass is here to apologize."
"Will you just go down there?" I ask him and he looks at me with concern in his eyes.
"What should I tell him?" He asks, crossing his arms.
"I don't know." I say.
"Well do you want to talk to him?" He tries again as the knocking persists.
"I don't know." I rub my eyes, I want this over with.
"I'll send him up, you can always kick him out." He tells me, and disappears down the stairs.
I start to breathe rapidly, I don't know what's going to happen. I wish I'd had more time to think. I wait very anxiously in my bedroom until I hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. They stop momentarily in front of my bedroom door and then he gently opens it. I pull my knees to my chest, holding them tight trying to literally hold myself together.
He enters and shuts the door behind him, officially separating us from Thatcher and the rest of the house. I'm expecting him to come onto the bed with me but he sits down with his back against the door, leaning on it. He's being careful, keeping his distance.
