Knockout

Chapter 31

*two months later*

So I've been hanging out with Maverick. A lot, actually. He seems to be the only other person that understands exactly what I'm going through. Sure the love of his life didn't just leave him but he understands that I'm in pain and makes me feel better. Somehow, hanging out with him and being with Bo, feels like the hole in my heart is almost fixed.
I've been sleeping better too, and talking to Sarah. I was only taking the insomnia pills for two weeks before I didn't need them anymore. My nightmares have been reduced to only once every few weeks instead of two or three times a night. Thatcher now sleeps in his own room, or at Cash's. He trusts me enough to sleep by myself but the nights he's away I arrange to stay with Maverick. It's not that I can't be alone it's just that I don't want to be.
As for Marshall, I still haven't heard anything. I miss him every second of every day since he's been gone. But I haven't called him in three weeks. Sarah thinks it's time for me to realize that Marshall may not come back. She thinks I should prepare for the worst and hope for the best. I promised her I would try, I really do like Sarah. If she wasn't my therapist I feel as though we might've been friends outside of that.

"So you're going to Mav's again?" Thatcher calls from his bedroom.

"Yeah." I yell back, searching for some pajamas to bring over.

"Don't forget we're going to my Dads birthday party tomorrow." He reminds me, shuffling in his rooms for something. "You have to be back here by three."

"I know." I say.

I open my dresser, searching for my pajama shorts amongst other things. I start to pull things out and my hand catches on a cold black t shirt in the bottom corner of the drawer. I know exactly what it is the minute I feel it. Or should I say whose it is. I watch my hand shake as I pull out the shirt and I hold it in my hands. I could cry at the sight of it, I remember the last time I wore this. Marshall was away in Ohio and I missed him so much I never took it off.
I hold the balled up t shirt to my chest and inhale its scent, his scent. My eyes fill with water and I sit on my bed. I stare at my phone sitting on the dresser, I could call him. I reach for it, stopping myself halfway. He won't answer, and I can't think of anything left to say in a voicemail that would make him come back.

"Did you hear me?" I hear Thatcher laughing as he walks down the hall towards my room.

He stops in my doorway and leans against the threshold. I glance at him quickly, I don't want him to see me cry, not over this. But it's Thatcher, and whether I like it or not he always knows when I'm crying. He walks over to the bed and sits next to me, putting his arm around my shoulders.

"I know you miss him." He says quietly, and I lean my head into his shoulder.

"He's the one, Thatch." I say, letting my tears fall silently down my cheeks.

Thatcher slides off the bed and crouches down in front of me, tilting my chin up to look at him.

"Honey, any man that leaves you with nothin' but a t shirt, ain't the one." He says, letting his southernness slip through.

"But I love him..." I whisper under my breath and some tears fall on the shirt.

"I know you do sugar." He grabs hold of my hands and squeezes them once. "You're gonna be okay."

"Thatch, I don't think he's coming back..." I whisper again, closing my eyes and letting some more tears slide out.

I cry for a minute or two more and then tell myself it's time to stop. I inhale deeply and wipe the remaining bits of water from under my eyes. Thatcher waits patiently for me to calm down and then gives me a quick hug. I stand up with him, composing myself almost instantly. The truth is, I just want to go see Maverick and Bo. Even if I forget for just a little while it's a while that I don't feel the constant pain accompanied by thoughts of Marshall.
Sometimes when I'm by myself I swear to God I can feel him holding me. Or I feel his lips pressing lightly against mine in his sweet way. Sometimes I hear the beat of his heart, like when I would lay on his chest while we slept.
My own chest clamps and I shake those feelings away. It will hurt more than it heals.