Dirty Little Secret

by Amber Rides

  She stood up, too, leaned in for a hug, and spoke into my ear. “I wasn’t allowed to love you like a mom, but I loved you too much to be your sister.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “If you could go back to the very beginning, when you first met Andrew…Would you change it?”

  Julie answered immediately, and I knew it must’ve been something she thought about often.

  “Not a thing,” she replied. “I wouldn’t trade my time with him for anything. Love like that doesn’t happen often, and when it does…It’s worth the pain.”

  “I get it,” I said.

  And maybe, almost, I did.

  CUTTER

  If I was a good man, I would’ve stepped in the second I realized Melissa was inside my apartment.

  I think, though, that I’ve made it abundantly clear that while I was many, many fun and exciting things…A good man was not one of them.

  So instead, when I stepped out of the shower and heard the sound of her voice, I chose the very unkind – and somewhat unmanly – option of eavesdropping. If I wanted to justify it at all, I could say that I just really wanted to hear her speak again before I had to tell her how badly I’d fucked up.

  Brandy’s annoying giggle came first. “You’re not the delivery man.”

  “Where is he?” Melissa sounded strained.

  “The delivery man?”

  “Cutter.”

  “Showering. He felt a little dirty. He’ll be out in a minute. We ordered Chinese. I just had to have some. A craving, I suppose. I didn’t realize they happened so quickly. But Cutter was happy to indulge.”

  If I wasn’t dull as a fucking butter knife, I would’ve interceded then. I didn’t clue in to what Brandy meant. Because all I could focus on was Melissa. Maybe she knew right away what Brandy was implying, but if she did, she didn’t let on.

  “I’d like to speak to Cutter,” was all she said.

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “I think he might say otherwise.” Melissa had turned on the snobby, get-what-I-want voice, and I smiled in spite of myself.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there was anything between you,” Brandy said frostily. “Didn’t you have him arrested for assault?”

  “It was a misunderstanding.”

  My ex turned on her best, bitchiest self. “I’m sorry. Again. But did you, or did you not tell your friend that Cutter assaulted you?”

  I held my breath, waiting for her to answer.

  “Yes, I did.”

  Fuck.

  Her affirmation, which cut at my heart, was enough to bring me striding into the room.

  “How?” I demanded. “How could you do that?”

  Melissa’s eyes widened, and then her perfect, blue gaze went from me to Brandy and then back again.

  I could see her mind working, see the assumptions playing out in her face.

  Me, in a towel.

  Brandy...being Brandy.

  Melissa turned her pleading eyes to me. The pain in my heart was like fucking shrapnel.

  She looked at Brandy again.

  “Bullshit,” Melissa whispered suddenly.

  “I was surprised, too,” Brandy said, rubbing her perfectly flat stomach affectionately. “We used protection and everything.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I demanded.

  “Cutter, she’s pregnant,” Melissa stated.

  My head swiveled toward Brandy, and I laughed derisively. “Yeah, right.”

  She shrugged. “A few weeks along.”

  Jesus. The last thing the world needed was a miniature of that crazy bitch running around.

  “It can’t be your baby,” Melissa said.

  I opened my mouth to deny it.

  Brandy beat me to the punch.

  “I almost wish that were true. It would be easier, since Cutter and I rarely get along outside of the bedroom.” She laughed. “But what kind of people would it make us if we didn’t at least try for a relationship? For the sake of the baby.”

  I didn’t like the way she kept saying “we”. I didn’t like the way she linked herself to me.

  Melissa was whiter than one of my canvasses. “Cutter?”

  Double fuck.

  Bile crawled up the back of my throat. “Like fuck it’s mine.”

  Brandy shrugged. “The dates line up.”

  “Cutter?” Melissa said again.

  “Just because Brandy says it’s true, doesn’t make it true,” I told her quietly.

  “But it could be?”

  There was no point in lying. “We slept together once. We used a condom. And it was only three weeks ago.”

  “It was four weeks,” Brandy corrected. “And condoms fail.”

  “That doesn’t make it mine.”

  “All right. Tell yourself what you need to. But we lived together for three years, Cutter. You know as well as I do that my cycle is spot on.”

  “DNA test.” I spat the words out.

  “Sure. But the second this little bastard is born, with your blue eyes in his face, the whole world will know he’s yours.”

  “No one is going to know.”

  “I’ll know,” Melissa said, and her voice still had a wooden quality that made me nervous. “It’s a baby, Cutter. A person. You need to do the right thing.”

  “I swear to you…You and I hadn’t met, Melissa. I know that’s a lame excuse. But I don’t want this baby.”

  My ex interrupted then. “Melissa’s right, though. And if anyone should know about how it feels to be an unwanted baby, it’s her.”

  Triple fuck.

  “You told her?” Woodenness was gone. In its place was abject fury.

  “I was mad, baby-doll,” I pleaded. “It slipped out.”

  “That’s your M.O., isn’t it?” Melissa asked. “You get mad, you fuck up. And when you fuck up, everyone suffers. Tell me about the guy you sent to the hospital. Tell me about the house you burned down. Is that because you were mad, too?”

  “I - ”

  She didn’t even let me start.

  “I came here to apologize,” she told me. “To ask your forgiveness for what I said to my friend. And to tell you that I could see past what you’d done, even though you didn’t tell me the whole truth. Because we’re human, right? You made me promise not to give up. You told me you loved me.”

  If I had been wondering at all which one of us was living higher on the doing-shitty-things scale…Well, I had no doubts now.

  She was protecting herself from me and all the fall-out that came along with being near me.

  Did it matter that the man I assaulted had basically let his friends rape my sister? Did it matter than the house I lit on fire belonged to my shitty best friend? No. Not at all. Because it was a fucking pattern. I used those things as an excuse to let out my rage.

  For the first time ever, reality slapped me in the face. My vigilante justice, my revenge…I was fucked up. I was the asshole. The criminal. Now. And always.

  “Goodbye, Cutter.”

  The words had a finality to them that I almost couldn’t take. As she strode out of my apartment, on out of my life, my knees gave way, and I fell to the floor.

  MELISSA

  My heart was in a million pieces.

  It was the feeling I should have had when I caught Danny and Shelby together.

  And at that second, I knew.

  I loved Cutter Lane.

  If I didn’t the pain wouldn’t have been so acute.

  A million tiny swords, stabbing into my chest, again and again.

  I stepped into the street blindly, oblivious to the screech of tires, oblivious to everything but my pain.

  I turned, just in time see the truck swerve.

  And suddenly the swords were everywhere on my body.

  Cutter!

  I don’t know if I called his name, or if I just cried it out in my mind. But my last thought, as the world went black, and true oblivion came
, fast and hard, was how much I was going to miss him.

  CUTTER

  Brandy’s tirade rained down on me and bounced right off. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let Melissa go. Not angry like that. Not without doing my damnedest to convince her I was worth it. I had to try, even if it meant getting myself tossed back in jail.

  I jumped to my feet, ignoring the way my ex squealed as I shoved past her. I ran for the front door, ignoring, also, the angry shriek as my ankle monitor sprung to life as I stepped out onto the lawn.

  What happened next stopped fucking my heart.

  Melissa moved quickly, head down, in an attempt to cross the street. A grey pick-up came out of nowhere, rumbling toward her.

  “Melissa!” I hollered at the top of my lungs.

  I was two seconds too late. The driver slammed on his breaks and turned the wheel frantically, but he wasn’t fast enough either.

  My feet pounded on the pavement just as the front bumper clipped Melissa and sent her sailing into the air. The truck skidded sideways and slammed into a tree.

  By the time Melissa hit the ground with a sickening crunch, I was at her side and on my knees. I ignored everything I knew about first aid and dragged her gently from the ground so I could cradle her in my arms.

  She was too fucking still. Her eyes were closed and her chest was barely moving.

  “Please,” I said into her hair. “Just keep fucking breathing. Please.”

  I leaned back, trying to get a handle on her injuries. There was no blood. Was that good? Or bad? I didn’t know. Fuck.

  “Cutter!”

  Brandy’s voice cut into my clouded thoughts. When I looked up at her my eyes burned with unshed tears.

  “Help me,” I whispered.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Call 911. An ambulance.”

  She reached into her pocket just as sirens rung through the air.

  Thank God.

  “It’s not your baby,” Brandy stated suddenly.

  “What?”

  “I’m really fucking sorry, Cutter.”

  “You’re really fucking sorry?” My voice sounded like ice but the words burned like fire.

  Brandy shot a frantic glance at Melissa’s unmoving form and took a step away. The sirens were getting louder.

  “It wasn’t my idea,” she said.

  “Whose goddamned idea was it?”

  “Her mother’s.”

  Jesus H. Christ. Of course it was.

  “Are you even pregnant?” I demanded.

  “Yes, but it’s Billy’s. He kicked me out when I told him. Then Joan Stover approached me, and I was desperate and I couldn’t say no to all that money. Cutter, I - ”

  I cut her off. “Give me your phone.”

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The best fucking lawyer I know. My dad.”

  MELISSA

  Cutter.

  I struggled to pull myself to consciousness.

  I felt like I was in a dream.

  I could smell wood. It was earthy. Intoxicating.

  Hands, rough but gentle, combed through my hair. They stroked my face, and were accompanied by a deep, soothing voice.

  A voice I knew and loved. My heart raced.

  Cutter.

  My stomach dipped, and I struggled to remember why. It seemed faraway.

  Brandy.

  A baby.

  Cutter.

  Tires on wet pavement.

  Pain.

  Cutter.

  “Baby-doll,” he murmured. “I don’t know if you can hear me or not…The doctor said you were just sleeping, and not in a coma or anything, and that they gave you something to keep you out a while longer…But I’m so worried.”

  His words dragged me from the edges of my drowsy state, making me aware of little things. The steady beat of my heart, in time with the soft beep of a machine. This hiss of oxygen, and the plastic tubes pressed into my nose. And Cutter’s long body, hard but comforting, tucked in beside me.

  Thank God.

  I latched onto anger and hurt, held them tightly, then – somehow - let them go.

  “Are we still fighting?” I asked.

  My voice was a croak, but when he answered, his was much worse – raw and deep and regretful.

  “Oh, shit. Baby-doll. You’re awake. Thank fucking God.”

  “Cutter, are you okay?”

  He chuckled, and it sounded both relieved and regretful at the same time. “Jesus. Baby-doll, do you know where you are? What do you remember?”

  I blinked. The light was dim, and I could see tubes and monitors. The room wasn’t clinical or cold, but I couldn’t quite place where I was.

  “Not a hospital,” I stated.

  “Not quite. This is my dad’s house.”

  I frowned, thinking maybe I’d heard wrong. “Your dad’s?”

  “Yes. He’s helping me. Helping us.”

  “Why?”

  I struggled a bit against the sheets, trying to sit up so I could ask for clarification, and Cutter’s hands found my shoulders. Gently, he pushed me back onto the pillow.

  “Stubborn girl,” he murmured. “We can talk about it later. Right now, you have a broken arm, and your body is covered in bruises. Lie down and relax.”

  “Was I unconscious?”

  “The doctor said not really. Your head is the one place you didn’t get bumped. They gave you something to help you sleep, and it really knocked you out. Said you could be out for twenty-four hours.”

  “Oh. Are you supposed to be in my bed?”

  “From a medical perspective? No, probably not. I just –“ His voice broke a little, and he cleared his throat. “I know what the doctor said, but you were so fucking still. I was scared you weren’t going to fucking wake up, and it would be my fucking fault, like so much other shit in your life as of late –“

  Gingerly, I leaned over and cut off his tirade with a kiss. For a second, Cutter didn’t move. I was glad. It gave me chance to explore his lips with mine, probing the width of them. Soft but firm, tasting just a little bit of salt.

  “Perfect,” I breathed.

  He pulled away. “Baby-doll.”

  “Mmm.”

  I leaned in and kissed him again, this time a little more forcefully. Ignoring the way my body hurt pretty much everywhere, I wrapped my free, un-casted arm around Cutter and pulled him close.

  He let me kiss him, but kept his mouth sealed when I tried to tease it open with my tongue. Frustrated, I bit down on his lower lip. He drew in a pained breath, and I immediately took advantage of his parted lips, darting my tongue insistently into his mouth.

  For one, sensuous moment, he yielded to desire. His tongue met mine, and his hands roamed my back. Then he dragged himself away and started to sit up.

  “I need to call the doctor to let him know you’re awake. He’ll come in to check on your…vitals…your memory…whatever.”

  My memory? Did he think I forgot everything that just happened right before my accident?

  “You said I didn’t hit my head,” I reminded him.

  “You didn’t.”

  “I remember it all. Right up until I thought I was going to lose you.”

  “You lose me?” he replied, a begging-to-be-smoothed frown creasing his forehead.

  “I’m sorry for saying goodbye,” I told him. “For walking away when it got tough.”

  “Baby-doll, that wasn’t tough. That was you finding out what a fucking monster I am.”

  “You’re not a monster.”

  “You’re the only person who doesn’t think so.”

  I took a breath, and said the words I had to say. “Your baby won’t think so. He – or she, I guess – will love you just as much as I do.”

  His eyes widened, like he couldn’t decide which part of my statement to deal with first.

  “It’s not mine,” he said vehemently.

  “But it could be.”

  Cutter shook his head. “The second you left, Br
andy started in on me. She was screaming so loud, especially when I went after you. If I’d just been a bit quicker…A little less weak…” He paused, his face full of regret. “Brandy followed me, and we both saw it happen. You…The truck. Jesus. I’ll never forget the way you crumpled against its bumper. The fucking sound of it. Brandy told me the truth right away. It doesn’t change what I did before you and I met, but it’s not my baby, Melissa. It’s not even a possibility. She’s two months along already. It’s her boyfriend, Billy’s, but he kicked her out when she told him.”

  I felt a small, strange tinge of sadness. I squeezed Cutter’s hand. He took a breath.

  “There’s more,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “Your mother found out about Brandy’s pregnancy and then about Brandy and me, and tracked her down. She paid her to say the baby was mine.”

  I swallowed against the thick lump in my throat. “Where is she now?”

  “Your mother?”

  I nodded.

  “My father fast tracked a restraining order,” Cutter explained.

  “You did the right thing,” I replied softly.

  “Did I?” There was a nervous desperation in his voice. “I had myself appointed as your next of kin. Your mom called that move ‘pretty fucking ballsy’. It’s all temporary, but shit, baby-doll. She wanted me arrested for this. She wanted to have me charged with aggravated assault. Whatever the fuck I did – whatever the fuck I do in the future – I would never put you in danger. But your mom had the cops on me for parole violation and they were dying for an excuse to drag me away from you. I had to keep her away and give myself a legitimate claim for doing it. Even then…I had to threaten to expose her before she stopped.”

  “None of this changes what I said about you not being a monster,” I told him.

  “I took the money she gave me, Melissa. I took every penny she gave Brandy, too. I used it to hire my dad’s law firm and to pay for all this medical equipment. Pulling this shit together in twelve hours cost more than I made last year. And I’m sorry.” His face was filled with pain. “I know I’m not the kind of man who deserves a second chance.”

  I brought his palm to my cheek.

  “Yes, you are,” I said simply.