Knockout

Chapter 33

~Marshall's P.O.V.~

What the fuck was that message? She doesn't get to end it with me over a fucking voicemail. She doesn't get to end it with me at all, I love her. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, I'm going over there. This'll be the first time I'll be seeing her in four months now. The first time I'll be speaking to her.
My stomach tightens, I can handle this. It's just Rachel. But at the same time, it's just Rachel. My heart beats harder every block I get that's closer to her house. What will I even say to her? I'm sorry? I am sorry, but I can't ask forgiveness for what I've done. I feel horrible about it, but I didn't want her to see me like that. I didn't want anyone to.
It would've been hard for her, maybe a little too hard and I didn't know what I might do. I was so angry and sad and pissed I was scared I might've hurt her. But I guess that bit me in the ass given that I hurt her by leaving. I was in a bind, I didn't know what else to do. She knows I'm not good at making the best decisions. That was always her.
I turn down her street, almost throwing up as I do so. I reluctantly drive down the block, eventually stopping in front of her house. Shit it's late, maybe I should just go. No. I have to do this, it's time I make this right and let her know I still want to be with her.
I get out of the car, walking up the steps to the front door. I stop in front of it, inhaling a deep breath before knocking twice. There's a very long pause before I hear any signs of life on the other side. The door opens, and there stands Thatcher, unchanged. His expression immediately shifts when he sees me, and he leans against the threshold.

"You know you've got a lot of fucking nerve coming back here." He tells me, sizing me up. Is he drunk? "I should beat the shit out of you."

"Is Rachel here?" I ask, ignoring his slurred threats.

"Rachel?" He laughs, covering his mouth to contain the giggles. "Since when do you care about her?"

"Is she here or not?" I ask impatiently, his words hurt but that's all they're meant to do.

"Why should I tell you where she is?" He narrows his eyes at me. "As far as I know, she broke up with you."

"You don't just break off an engagement." I hiss at him, and he widens his eyes, laughing again.

"No, you don't just pack up and leave and ignore your fiancé for four months. That is what you don't do Marshall." He says matter of factly. "I can't believe I was right." He giggles again. "I knew I shouldn't have believed that crap when you asked for my blessing. I should've known better. For all our sakes."

"Tell me where she is." I demand, my breathing quickening. I'm getting angry, but I wouldn't dare hit Thatcher. That's something she wouldn't forgive.

"No." He shakes his head. "Marshall you aren't her boyfriend anymore. I don't just have to tell you where she is."

"Jesus Christ Thatcher this doesn't concern you." I say, losing it for a minute. "And I wasn't her boyfriend I was her fucking fiancé."

"This doesn't concern me?" He asks, stepping onto the porch to stand directly in front of me.  "You don't know a god damn thing do you?" He snarls. "You weren't here when she needed you. You didn't help her through anything. She cried for you, she wanted you, and you weren't there. So I was, and Maverick was, but you were nowhere. So don't you dare tell me that this doesn't fucking concern me."

"Maverick?" I ask, and the course of the conversation changes immediately.

The look on Thatcher's face tells me that he realizes he's said something he shouldn't have. I narrow my eyes on him, and he opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. You could cut the tension with a knife, and Thatcher drags his teeth across his bottom lip in angst. I feel like five hundred pound weights are placed on my chest, I need him to tell me what's going on.