Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel

by Ashley Suzanne

  “Excuse me.” I brush past Cutter putting in the DVD and haul ass to the bathroom, barely making it before my stomach explodes and nothing but yellow bile comes out, leaving an acidic taste in my mouth. If I could just get to my bag, I could pull out my travel toothbrush, but I’m sure Cutter’s going to have questions.

  “Can you bring me my purse, please!” I yell, thinking up every objection he might have, but he doesn’t say anything when he hands the bag through the crack in the door. Not a word. Feeling as if I got away with something, I brush my teeth and make sure all the toothpaste is washed down the drain just like the guilt eating away at my gut.

  “Feeling okay?” he asks, concerned, the moment I step out of the bathroom.

  “Yep,” I answer, refusing to meet his eyes. Finding a comfortable place on the couch, I put my feet out in front of me, hopefully to pass along the message I want to be alone, but with you at the same time, so sit over there. He doesn’t take the hint.

  Cutter stands at the cushion directly next to me and motions for me to lift my feet. Curling them up so my knees touch my chin, I’m uncomfortable as all hell. Then he sits and pulls my feet back out over the tops of his thighs, gently running circles on my calves. “Better?” he asks.

  “Cutter, I’m pregnant,” I blurt, and the word vomit doesn’t stop there. “I am so fucking sorry. God, I was stupid, and this doesn’t change anything.”

  Pushing my feet from his lap and rising from the sofa, he paces the length of the coffee table, finally taking a seat in the armchair, his elbows braced on his knees, leg shaking violently. “You’re pregnant?” he asks, as if needing to hear it again to make sure I wasn’t dicking with him.

  “Yes,” I whisper, once again pulling my body close, hugging myself around my calves, doing everything I can to disappear into the couch.

  “And you don’t think it changes anything? I’ve never done this before, but I’m pretty sure this changes everything, Josette.” His voice gets louder and I no longer have the strength to hold my head upright. I give up and burrow into my folded legs and arms.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears fall freely onto my lap.

  “No, Jo,” Cutter says sympathetically, coming to sit next to me and pulling me into his chest, where my cries turn to gut-wrenching sobs. “We’ll figure it out. Please don’t cry. Please.” As he rocks me, I can feel his unease through his bravado. He’s just as scared as I am.

  “I’m not keeping it.”

  “We don’t have to make any decisions right now. We have time.”

  Pulling away from him, I use the back of my hands to wipe under my puffy eyes and prepare myself to tell Cutter my decision. It’s what’s best for both of us.

  “Listen,” I say, desperately trying to find my voice. “I have to finish school. I can’t work for Garrett forever. You’re leaving tomorrow. You have dreams. We both have dreams. There’s absolutely no reason to bring a baby into this world because we made a mistake. It’s only been two weeks since we decided to give this a try, and I’m pretty sure being pregnant right now wasn’t in the cards for either of us. We have bigger plans. Ones we can’t achieve with a crying newborn. All this will do is put us in a situation where we feel obligated to stay together forever. We won’t get a fair shake. I’ll resent you. You’ll resent me. It’ll be a shit show in the making. And I love you, dude, you’re my best friend and I don’t ever want to hate you or you to hate me. This is what’s best.”

  “Are you sure? This isn’t a decision you can take back, Jo. I’m with you however you want to go. But you need to take some time and think. I’ll call Max and see about pushing things back. I doubt my spot’s going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll stay with you until you figure it out. We figure it out. I love you, Jo. I really do.”

  I’ve never been so relieved. I seriously thought this was going to be a fight, a huge one, with Cutter ending up being pissed at me. It doesn’t make the situation any easier, but knowing that no matter what, I have someone in my corner, makes it easier to stomach.

  “Please don’t do that. This is what I’m talking about. You’re already pushing back your dreams. It can’t happen. I’m going to be fine. I have an appointment for Friday.”

  “Who’s going to go with you?” Cutter asks, his brows furrowed in worry.

  “I’m fine, dude. I’m a big girl,” I say with a smile, trying to disguise the fact I’m scared as shit and I don’t want to do this alone. I want someone, but he’s all I have, so I’m shit outta luck.

  “I’ll call Rian. That’s my condition. I’ll follow your lead. Your body, your choice, all that, but you’re gonna give me peace of mind. I need to know you’re okay and I know Rian will take care of you. You’ll give me that?”

  “I can do that,” I answer, some of the fear evaporating from how much he cares for me. “Ya know, I kinda love you, too.” Cutter Greer’s a pretty spectacular guy, and someday will make an excellent father. A sick feeling hits my gut when I let my mind drift to a place it shouldn’t, not now…Cutter is a dad…a parent who won’t get the chance to raise his child. Neither will I.

  “Okay, come on over here. We’ve got a day date to get to.”

  Putting my defenses away for the next twenty-four hours, I curl into Cutter’s side while he strokes my hair and we watch funny movies for the rest of the day. We don’t speak of our situation for the rest of the day; there’s nothing but making memories and enjoying each other’s company. Cutter refuses to let me leave when it starts getting dark, dragging me to his bed and pulling off all my clothes. Laying me down on the sheets, he makes love to me in a way nobody’s ever done, promising me the pregnancy changes nothing between us. That we’re still together and he’s not disgusted by the choice I made without talking to him, even though it was only a few weeks ago that I lost my mind about him doing the same thing. I agree with him just to appease him, but in my gut, I know that after I do what I plan, he’ll never be able to look at me the same. There’s no way our relationship will be able to withstand the blow; as much as I dream it could be different, the logical side of my brain overpowers the dreamy, romantic side. I’ve just signed our death warrant, no matter what he says.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Cutter whispers, buried to the hilt, my legs wrapped around his back and my nails slowly grazing his back.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” I say, smiling up at him as my orgasm rolls over me slowly, beginning to pull me to its murky depths.

  “Thank you for telling me. God, I love you. I want this and so much more,” he admits, making my heart soar and plummet at the same time.

  “Okay,” I mumble, fighting back tears.

  “I won’t be in Vegas long. Even while I’m gone, we’re together. I swear, I won’t be that guy. We’re gonna try. Every single day. You and me, Jo. I’ll make you so happy.” Instead of responding, I pull him to me, kissing him with every ounce of emotion rolling through my body. There’s no getting out of this unscathed.

  This is a prime example of why you don’t sleep with your best friend and then try to date him. Because you’ll fall in love with the amazing man he is, then, just when he falls for you, you’ll have to do something so drastic that he’ll never be able to be anything…not even friends.

  For Cutter, this night is something to hold on to, to get him through whatever he must to achieve his dream and to have someone to come home to. For me…it’s a bittersweet goodbye. One I’ll probably regret for the rest of my life.

  After Cutter’s passed out cold, I climb out of bed and gather all my stuff. Taking his phone from the nightstand, I reject my call as soon as the screen lights up so it doesn’t wake him. As his voicemail prompts me to leave a message, I take both of our phones into the bathroom and tell him everything I’m feeling. It’s a coward’s way out. Once he wakes up, since his flight leaves so early he’ll have no choice but to wait until he lands in Vegas to call me back. He’s going to be upset and hurt, as am I, but this is the only way. He’d end up throwing away
everything for me—worrying about what I’m doing and how I’m handling everything—so he’d come home and ruin any chance at a real life. I’d do the exact same if he asked me to. We started as friends, and this is what I would expect Nichelle or any of my other friends to do for me if I was about to make a stupid decision.

  “Cutter. It’s morning and I’m not here. I’m really sorry, but I couldn’t face you. When I said I loved you, I meant every single word, but I don’t think love’s enough. I need you to be happy and enjoy every single thing you’re getting ready to do without having to worry about me. So, this is me breaking up with you. We tried. We gave it a shot. It wasn’t ever going to work. If you love me like you say you do, please don’t contact me. Please, let me get over this in my own time. I’ll call you when I’m ready. I love you. Give ’em hell and show them the guy I know you truly are.”

  Ending the call, I wait for the notification to pop up on his phone and silence that one as well. Placing his phone back on the nightstand, I lean over and gently give him a kiss on the top of his head and wipe away a stray tear. It hurts like hell now, and I know it’s only going to be worse tomorrow and probably even worse with each day that passes, but what matters is that he’s going to get over it and live a great life, one that’s not filled with drunk moms and abusive stepdads and girlfriends who can’t remember birth control. He’s going to make something of himself. He’s going to give the world hell.

  Chapter 11

  Cutter

  PRESENT, THREE YEARS LATER

  The pilot’s voice comes over the intercom, advising all passengers to put on their seat belts, raise their seats, and prepare for landing. After I follow all the directions, my leg nervously bounces. It’s been a few years since I’ve been home. It’s been even longer since I’ve felt this nervous. I should have come home sooner. I should have come back as soon as Josette stopped answering my calls and after she quit the gym, but I thought she wanted space. At least that’s what her email said.

  I’d pleaded with her to reconsider, but she wouldn’t. I’ve read that email she finally sent me hundreds of times over the years. Each time I wanted to break down and call her, I’d remind myself why I hadn’t before. Every time I wanted to jump on a plane to see her, I’d recall the words she sent to me in such an impersonal way, though our relationship was anything but impersonal.

  Cutter,

  I hate to do this. I hate that you’re going to hate me. I hate that I can’t bring myself to call and talk to you, but it would hurt too bad. I think it’s best that we end whatever it is that we started. It was silly thinking it could all work out with you following your dreams and me going after my own. Maybe one day, when life doesn’t get in the way, we can try again, but right now it’s best if we don’t. Please don’t contact me. I need time to get over you. If you ever cared for me, you’ll respect my wishes.

  All my love,

  Josette

  All her love…The more I think about her closing, the more I want to punch things. All her fucking love wouldn’t have sent me a bullshit breakup email. All her love would have at least had the balls to call and talk things through and try to figure them out. More than anything, she was my best friend—the only person other than Garrett and Rian who’d ever been in my corner. All her fucking love, my ass.

  But regardless of my feelings—mostly anger—I respected her wishes and didn’t try to contact her. Okay, that’s a lie. I sent her one email in response to hers, but as I figured, it went unanswered. I tried to have Garrett keep tabs on her for me, but no more than three weeks after I went to Vegas, she quit the gym, telling Garrett she needed to focus on her last year of school. He understood, yet I knew it was nothing more than an attempt to rid her mind of me and move on.

  Long story short, I haven’t been home since. I’ve had a few opportunities, but it just seemed easier to stay and work out with the guys, which has paid off tremendously. I’ve received sponsors from places most fighters can only dream of, I’m in the best shape of my life, and my undefeated record speaks for itself. Yet there’s still something missing, and I’m praying to God that I find it on my spur-of-the-moment trip home. Hopefully, Garrett and Rian can put some perspective back into my life. I left with all these hopes and goals, each one now accomplished, and now I feel like I’m just fighting for the sake of fighting. I’ve lost my passion and have absolutely no idea where to go from here. I’ll miss the paychecks, but that’s about it. I’m pretty sure I miss home more.

  —

  Anticipating I’d be taking a cab over to Garrett and Rian’s place from the airport, I’m shocked to see both of them standing on the opposite side of the ropes outside baggage claim, holding a sign with my name printed in what appears to be crayon, as if I’d ever forget what either of them looked like. The moment Rian’s eyes meet mine, she tosses the sign aside, ducks under the ropes, and, despite the commands and glares from the security guards, barrels in my direction. I barely have enough time to drop my duffel bag before she’s hurling herself into my arms, squeezing the life out of me. She feels like home and comfort and all the good things that people remember when they don’t see their family for a long stretch of time.

  One thing appears to be different. Unless she’s put on some serious weight, there’s a very pregnant belly pushing into my stomach. Pulling out of her embrace, I hold her at arm’s length and look her up and down: there is in fact a basketball-sized lump in her shirt. Her eyes light up and her smile widens so big I can count the cavities on her molars.

  “If you stay gone this long again, I’ll kick your ass and ruin your record my damn self,” she jokes, pulling me back into a hug, using all her might to hold us together.

  “What’s going on here?” I ask when she finally lets go and I’m able to gesture toward her abdomen.

  “There wasn’t much to do while you were gone. Garrett was always whining about his golden boy running off to the big time and leaving his trainer behind. I had to do something to pull him from his funk.”

  I bend down to pick up my bag as a security guard approaches us wearing a mean scowl. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step back behind the ropes. This is a secured area,” he growls.

  “ ‘Ma’am’? Are you kidding me? How old do you think I am? It sure as shit isn’t old enough to be anyone’s ma’am.”

  “Please. Other side of the ropes,” he repeats, dropping the term that so easily offended her.

  “I’m going, I’m going,” she yells as he places his hand on her shoulder to direct her. “You don’t have to be so damn pushy. I haven’t seen my boy in forever. Breathe a little and maybe those veins in the side of your neck won’t pop out so much.”

  Instead of responding to her, he shakes his head and heads back to his podium on the other side of the secured area. Probably good for him that he moved so quickly. From what I’ve heard over the years, Rian’s a little spitfire and always has been, plus she has a huge issue with authority. We could have just as easily been sitting in the interrogation room if he continued.

  After jumping on the shuttle that leads to the parking structure, we walk to the car, Rian asking a million questions about how it’s been fighting in Vegas and me catching up on how things are going with the family. Garrett chimes in once we’re driving down the highway, informing me how great the gym is doing. Apparently, once the locals—and some outsiders—found out that one of the gym’s very own was scouted to fight professionally, Zan’s has been the place to be. If nothing else came from my career, knowing that business is good for the Rhodeses would be enough to make me happy about my choices. I owe them so much for how they helped me and I never thought I’d ever be able to make good on my word to pay them back.

  In even better news, they’re expecting another baby—a girl this time—and in only a few weeks. Rian had said before she didn’t want any more kids. Something about having one arm equals one kid, but Gregory asked for a baby last Christmas, and God knows Garrett can’t say no to that kid and Rian
gives him whatever he wants. I really have been gone a long time, and the more we talk, the more it sets in that while I’ve been away, I’ve missed so much. It’s enough to make me want to stay so I don’t lose any more memories I could have been making.

  “I hope you’re ready for a party. The baby shower’s in a few hours,” Rian says as Garrett takes the off ramp closest to the gym.

  “I could have taken a cab, guys. You have to be pulling your hair out with all the stuff you still have to do.” I don’t know much about baby showers, but I know women, and women are crazy when it comes to planning parties, especially ones that are for them or their children.

  “Oh, shut up. We couldn’t wait to see you. Plus, it’s just a small party at the house and everything’s pretty much done,” Rian answers, and waves her hand in the air above her head.

  “Well, you still could have told me. I don’t even have a baby gift for you. I can’t walk in there empty-handed.”

  “You’re my gift,” she gushes, spinning around in her seat despite Garrett’s pleas to keep her seated properly. “And my car’s already at the apartment. You’ve got about enough time to freshen up and maybe even make a detour to Target if you really wanted to get us a gift. I’ve had my eye on this bottle maker that’s just like my Keurig. I won’t even have to get out of bed. It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, but Garrett won’t let me buy it. He says it’s silly and I won’t use it, but I promise I’ll use the hell out of it. Every chance I get.”

  Garrett starts mumbling something about it being unnecessary and stupid as he pulls into the parking lot of the gym.

  “You got it, Ri,” I whisper just loud enough for Garrett to hear and I know he does when his eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. I’m sure if I could see his jaw, it would be clenched.