I haven't seen or heard from Thatch since Marshall and I heard him and Cash screaming at each other. Hesitantly I unlock the front door, feeling uneasy for some reason. I feel like it's been forever since I've been here almost like I'm not welcome in my own home. But the minute the door opens Thatcher comes walking down the stairs. Physically, he looks a hundred times better. The redness is gone from his eyes, the scruff trimmed close to his cheeks, and the bags barely visible underneath his eyes.
"Well you look good." I tell him, kind of half smiling at him.
"Back at ya." He says, scratching the back of his head.
I don't know why this is so awkward, we have never been like this before. I bring my eyes up and Thatch glances at me for a second before walking forward and hugging me. I hug him back, tight. When we pull away he leads us towards the kitchen where I sit on one of our bar stools at the island and he leans against the counter.
"You first." He prompts, crossing his arms and eating a few grapes out of the bowl beside him.
"We got into a roaring fight last night." I say right off the bat.
"About what?" Thatch asks, chewing.
"I'll give you three tries." I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
"He's really still on that Maverick thing huh?" He says, shrugging. "It's not like you asked him to love you so I don't know what Marshall is trying to accomplish by fighting over it."
"I think he's more mad at himself for not being able to get over it." I explain, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Thatch, it was so bad last night..."
"What happened?" He asks, leaning on the island with his eyes full of interest and worry. "Did he hit you?"
"No of course not." I dismiss that immediately. "Someone heard us screaming and Marshall bumped into his end table and broke a lamp. One of his neighbors called the cops."
"Are you serious?" Thatcher asks, covering his mouth with his hands in shock. "What the fuck?"
"I know." I shake my head, rubbing my temples. "And we barely talked about it. I was so done and tired I couldn't do it. And this morning was a whole other story."
"What happened this morning?" He prompts, pulling up the other bar stool to sit across from me.
"We basically started getting into it again, like the same fight." I tell him. "But I stayed and instead of talking we...anyway we didn't talk about it."
"You basically fucked the problem away." Thatch says bluntly, sitting back in his chair.
"I mean I guess." I shrug, not even phased by his remark. "But that doesn't make it stay away. Like here I am and I still feel it hanging over me. I want to talk to him but for some reason I just can't."
"You know what darlin'?" He asks, leaning forward onto the island again. "I think you and Marshall aren't the ones that need to work this one out. He needs to talk to Maverick."
"I tried to tell him that but he just won't have it." I shrug. "He thinks if he sees him he'll kill him."
"Look, here's what you gotta do." Thatcher says, hiding his smile. "You withhold sex until he talks to him."
"Thatch!" I say, knowing something along those lines was coming.
"I'm telling you Rach, he would be there within the week." He says. "And it won't be hard for you because you don't live there anymore. You can just hide out here until he does it."
