Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel

by Ashley Suzanne

  Before I get out of the car, I slowly pick up my bag and attempt to nonchalantly check on other matters here in Lexington. “Anyone hear from Josette lately?”

  “Nope. Not for a few years now. Since she quit after you left. I did hear that she’s working at some CPA firm downtown. I sent an invitation to her at work, hopefully she got it and can make it. Felt wrong to not try to include her in this for some reason. I always liked that girl.”

  I wipe my sweaty palms down my denim-clad legs and try to decide which would be more difficult for me: Josette not showing up to the baby shower and disappointing Rian, or actually coming face-to-face with the woman who ripped my heart out of my chest with one single email.

  —

  An hour or so later, I’ve quickly showered, put on some clothes that don’t smell like traveling, stopped by Target for that bottle maker Rian had to have, and am pulling up into Garrett and Rian’s driveway, which is already littered with cars. Since I don’t know what Josette drives these days, I push her from my mind and walk into the house, telling myself that I’ll handle that situation if it arises. If she’s not talked to the Rhodeses in all this time, chances are she won’t show up.

  Pink streamers hang from the ceilings. An extremely large pink cake decorated with pacifiers and ruffles makes the centerpiece of the formal dining room table and other types of snacks are scattered all around it. The coffee table in the living room is covered in large gifts expertly wrapped in pink paper. Seeing how much thought and consideration went into decorating the gifts, I’m ready to take my present, still dressed in the red-and-white bull’s-eye bag Target supplied me with for free, and run. Instead, I move some other gifts out of the way and try to build a pyramid around mine so that by the time Rian gets to it, everyone else will have stopped paying attention. Then Rian steps into my sight, hand on her hip.

  “Knock that off, Cutter. If that’s a baby Keurig, it could be wrapped in a T-shirt and I’m going to love it more than anything else on this table. Now, stop screwing with everything and come here.”

  Nodding, I walk into her embrace and lift her off her feet and spin her around once or twice. Setting her down, I look at her, like, really look at her: her dark hair spilling over her shoulders in wavy curls, her eyes sparkly, even her skin glowing. A pang of sadness hits my gut as I think that Jo and I could have had this kind of happiness. It’s sad when Rian’s radiant beauty is enough to break my heart all over again.

  “Stop looking at me like the cat pissed in your cereal and go out back with Garrett. All this girly stuff is probably giving him a coronary. I’m sure he needs a little testosterone in his life right about now.”

  Hugging her again, I kiss the top of her head and whisper in her ear, “Congrats, Ri. You look so happy and absolutely beautiful.”

  “You’re damn right I do. Sexiest one-armed pregnant woman you’ll ever see.” She tosses a sarcastic wink over her shoulder as she waddles away to greet more guests and I head out back to check on the poppa-to-be. And of course I find him sitting at the patio table, five empty beer bottles in front of him and one more nestled in his fist.

  “Pretty sure you can’t drink this away,” I tease as I pull a beer for myself from the cooler under the table.

  “I was okay with another baby. Hell, I wanted one. But a girl? I’m fairly sure I’m not sane enough to be the father of a girl,” he grumbles, and takes a large swig of the amber liquid.

  “You’ll be just fine. Don’t worry,” I offer, trying to soothe his unease.

  “You don’t understand. You didn’t know me before. Before the gym. Before everything. Rian was my whole world. I lived and breathed for her. The things I’ve done—had to do—to keep her safe and protected,” he says, shuddering, a hint of rage mixed with desperation in his voice. “I’ve done some fucked-up shit to protect that woman and she’s not a piece of my body. I didn’t create her. I didn’t watch her be born or feed her in the middle of the night. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if someone ever tries to hurt Evelyn.”

  “Is that the name you guys picked? Evelyn?” I ask, wanting to distract him from the dark and twisty place his mind seems to be wandering to.

  “Yeah.” His features soften at the sound of someone else saying her name. “Rian’s only aunt, who took care of her after her mom died, was named Elaine, but we thought it would be too weird, so we settled on Evelyn. Evelyn Jaymes.”

  “I like that. Boy names for mom and baby. And I happen to think Jaymes is pretty fucking cool, since I’m Cutter James and all.”

  “I knew there was a reason she pushed so hard for that name. My wife adores you, kid.”

  “Yeah. I’m her favorite.”

  “I’m too drunk for you to be talking like that about my wife. Family or not, I’ll beat your ass right here on this lawn.”

  I start to get a little nervous, then he cracks a smile and all is right in the world again.

  For the next hour, we slam back beer after beer, then more beers after that. Way more beers than either of us should have. And we don’t stop until Rian shows up outside and asks us to come in to help her with gifts, or something about presents. All I can think about is going to the bathroom before my bladder bursts.

  The bathroom door is closed and I’m about to divert to the master bathroom when the door opens. Too quickly, I rush back to the door, and a petite blonde smashes right into my chest, her hands grasping my shirt to keep from toppling over. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Long blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a body built to pleasure any man alive. For a brief second, I think she could be related to Josette, but she’s older than Jo, and I don’t remember her telling me about any close relatives. Not to mention, I’m pretty buzzed and could be imagining the entire thing and having a Shallow Hal moment. Then she speaks.

  “C-Cutter,” the goddess stammers. “What are you doing here?” The voice. Oh God, that voice. It’s the very same one that haunts my dreams.

  “Jo?” I ask, needing to confirm that my eyes and brain are communicating properly—needing to make sure this is real and not some drunken mirage.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” she whispers, almost angrily.

  “You look fucking amazing. God. I’ve missed you.” I reach for her, but Jo takes a step back and looks down the hall, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “I’ve got to go.” She seems panicked, scared even.

  “Hell no. I’ve waited almost three years to touch you. I deserve an explanation. Don’t run from me again. This time I’ll chase.”

  “Cutter, please,” she begs, and tries to maneuver around me.

  “We need to talk.” All of my drunken haze has worn off, and the anger and sadness she caused me resurface with a vengeance not even my screaming bladder can hold back. “And we’re talking right fucking now.”

  Grabbing her wrist, I drag her into Garrett and Rian’s room and shut the door. Josette looks around, probably seeking some sort of escape route, but her shoulders sag when she realizes that unless she wants to jump out a window she’s stuck with me for the duration of this conversation.

  “Can we do this anywhere but here?” she asks.

  “We should have done this a long time ago.”

  “If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come, Cutter. I said all I needed to say in that email. It was a dumb, childish crush. That’s all.”

  “You’re a damn liar,” I scream, my voice echoing off the walls. Regaining my composure, I look into her eyes for confirmation. She’s lying. Just like she did all those years ago, and probably still to this day. She loved me and, somewhere deep down inside, she might still love me.

  Someone knocks on the door and I yell for them to go away. When they don’t listen, but instead open the door, I whip around, ready to chew someone’s head off, until I see it’s Rian.

  “We’ll be out in a few. Sorry for the commotion and yelling at you,” I apologize to her, and then turn back to Josette.

  “I j
ust needed to bring something to Josette. You guys take as long as you need. You’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  And just as I’m about to go nuclear and tell Josette all her bullshit little email put me through, a tiny, little, two-foot-tall blond angel who is the spitting image of me as a kid toddles her way to Josette and raises her arms.

  “Momma. Up.” Two words is all it takes for me to fall in love with this pint-sized, perfect blend of me and Josette. But more than that, my heart shatters again and again, all because of this one woman. This time, I doubt I’ll ever heal as I look into a familiar set of eyes on this small body and know Josette stole at least two years of her life from me.

  Unable to be in the same room as Josette, I wipe at my burning eyes to keep the tears from falling and walk toward the door. My hand touches the handle and I risk a painful glance back at what should have been my family. The family I wanted more than anything in the world, even though I conceded to Josette’s wishes to have an abortion. I honored her choice even though it ate me alive. I didn’t fight her on what was the biggest decision of her life— but instead of telling me she kept the baby, she hid my daughter away like a dirty little secret.

  “You’re unbelievable” are the only words I can mutter before I clear out of the room. Out of the house and back to my apartment above the gym so I can think. Think of what, I have no fucking idea, but it seems like the appropriate thing to do at a time like this.

  Chapter 12

  Josette

  The last thing I ever expected walking into Garrett and Rian’s after years away was to be confronted by Cutter. I would have never accepted the invite had I thought for one second he’d be here. Shit, not even twenty-four hours ago, I was watching him fight at the MGM in Vegas. I had no reason to believe he’d be here, but I should have guessed, knowing how close he is to them.

  When Rian reached out, it seemed right to come. They are Cutter’s family and I figured I could seek some advice from Rian about how to approach the subject of Bethany with Cutter. She’d be the one to know if he’d be excited or pissed as hell. I needed her advice, but I never got the chance to ask. She said she’d talk to me after the shower, maybe even host a little sit-down between Cutter and me to keep things civil, but we didn’t get that chance because I had to pee. Cutter’s reaction, however, is the exact reason I kept my mouth shut.

  In our last face-to-face conversation, I’d told him I was having an abortion and spouted a bunch of shit about my life goals and how I couldn’t accomplish them and be a mother at the same time. We’d agreed on what to do and that was that.

  Then I changed my mind. I couldn’t go through with it. I decided that I’d have to be a mom and figure everything out from there. So I left that ridiculous message for Cutter, quit the gym, and started making plans to move on with my life. I wasn’t being mean or deceitful; I was being selfish. He and I had come to an agreement and decided to follow our dreams, but when I heard Bethany’s little heartbeat, everything I’d ever wanted for myself went right out the window.

  The night before my appointment, I tossed and turned about whether to call Rian to help me. I knew I should, but I couldn’t bring myself to dial the number. I knew what I wanted for my life, but for some reason I thought if Rian knew my plans, she would think less of me. So I went alone.

  I had a moment of panic as I drove to the appointment, reassuring myself that I was making the right decision for me and Cutter. I sat in the quiet waiting room filled with at least half a dozen girls who had the same solemn expression on their faces. I remember wondering if they were at the clinic for the same reason as me, and it made my heart hurt. So many girls, so few chances at a real life by having a baby so young; only one real choice to make.

  I filled out the paperwork. I waited for the nurse to call me to the back. When she finally said my name, I wiped my sweaty, shaky hands on my pants and followed her back to an exam room. I’d read online about what happens during the procedure, so I was as prepared as I could be, but in some twist of fate, the nurse didn’t ask me to undress from the waist down. Instead, she had me lie back on a bed, pull my shirt above my belly, and pull down my pants to my pubic bone. She placed a glob of goop on my stomach, reached for a wand, and pressed it firmly to my lower abdomen.

  Then I heard it. The strangest swooshing sound. I instantly knew what I was hearing: my baby’s heartbeat. My entire life changed in those few seconds. With every swoosh, I fell more in love with someone I’d never met but knew better than anyone else in the entire world. And as if I wasn’t completely in awe already, the nurse lifted her head to meet my eyes and smiled.

  “Everything sounds great, Nicole,” she said with a smile.

  “No. My name’s Josette,” I corrected. “Josette Morelli.”

  “I am so sorry.” She looked at the paperwork again. “It looks like I grabbed your folder, but I must have gotten the wrong chart to put inside. Give me just one second.” She barreled out the door, face flushed with embarrassment. But I wasn’t upset in the least. For whatever reason, she messed up that day and I’ll forever be grateful for her mistake. If she hadn’t thought I was there for a prenatal check-up, I wouldn’t have Bethany, and life doesn’t seem worth living without her adorable chubby cheeks, giant blue eyes, and smile to melt even the most frozen hearts.

  I pulled up my pants, wiped off my belly, pulled down my shirt, and fled that clinic. I knew my path had changed and what I was meant to do with the gift I was given. Only I knew that Cutter wasn’t ready, and we’d agreed on our decision just a few days before. It wasn’t fair of me to change my mind without giving him a chance to debate my choice, so I vowed to leave him be—let him live his life how he saw fit, without interruption from me or Bethany.

  I finished the semester of school, had Nichelle help me move into a small one-bedroom apartment the next town over, and got a job waiting tables. I saved every penny I made and did side jobs bookkeeping for a few smaller businesses from home in the evenings. I wasn’t wealthy by any means, but I was making it and had enough of a nest egg saved up for when Bethany came.

  And she came blazing into this world on a hot summer night in the middle of a tornado warning. I’d never been more terrified in my entire life. I wanted Cutter beside me. I wanted a familiar face, but I couldn’t have one there. I knew if I called Rian, she’d tell Cutter and that would defeat my plan. So I sucked it up and gave birth to a beautiful seven-pound, three-ounce little girl without anyone to share it with. I cried when she wouldn’t latch onto my breast, I cried when she cried, I basically cried for a lot of reasons, mostly because I was so in love my heart couldn’t handle it. And then I cried for Cutter.

  I missed him more than I cared to admit.

  Hell, I still miss him. A lot.

  Soon after Bethany was born, I started attending night classes to finish my degree. I took accelerated courses and graduated in one semester the year she was born. I took an entry-level position at a firm downtown, and after only one year, they realized my potential and drive and gave me a more lucrative job. I’m still not rich, but I’ve traded in my one-bedroom apartment for a three-bedroom single-story house just outside the city limits. It’s pretty amazing, and it’s all mine and Bethany’s.

  So, you see, I was giving—more like allowing—Cutter to have a chance to continue his path without adding the burden of a child to his already full plate. I had to break up with him. He would have known something was different. He would have come home and given up everything to do the honorable thing, and, for the first time in his entire life, he deserved to be selfish with his dreams. God knows his parents did a number on him. I couldn’t be another person in his life who stole things from him. He deserved more. Better.

  As the time went by, it got harder not to tell him. A few times I picked up the phone to spill the beans, but I could never stay on the line long enough for the call to connect. The last time I tried, I was dead set on pulling off the Band-Aid. Bethy was maybe six months old; she’d stopped looki
ng like a blob of baby and her features were 100 percent Cutter. I needed him to know we created something so perfect. I poured myself a glass of wine once Bethany went to bed, pulled out my phone, and made the mistake of opening my notifications first. A Google alert I had set on Cutter so I could follow his career said he was getting his first MMA televised fight.

  He’d made it. Set out to accomplish his dream and really, truly had done it. He was getting his dream.

  I cried while I finished the bottle of wine. Happy tears, of course. I felt so much pride. Then I cried myself to sleep knowing that telling him would do nothing but ruin his seemingly perfect life. It was my burden to bear.

  Now Bethany has everything she needs and most of what she wants, as a two-year-old, anyway. But now Cutter knows and he’s pissed. Rightfully so, but I’m terrified. Looking back, I still stand by my choices, I just hate that he had to find out this way, and even more I’m pissed Rian set me up like this.

  Storming out of the room with Bethany on my hip, I pause at a group of moms with toddlers of their own, all playing with dolls. Setting Bethany down, I take a deep breath and march over to Rian.

  “Can we talk, please?” I ask, anger and frustration dripping from my voice.

  She excuses herself from the guests and leads me out back where Garrett’s sitting.

  “I just came out again to escape the madness. Can’t you girls talk about girl shit someplace else?” Garrett whines, and I roll my eyes.

  “Did you set this up? Get me and Cutter in the same room to—what? Talk through whatever?” I ask Rian, ignoring Garrett’s request.

  “That’s what you want to be mad about? You’re going about this all wrong, young lady,” Rian responds, obviously taking Cutter’s side, although I shouldn’t have expected anything different.

  “Wait? What’s going on? Why are you fighting?” Garrett interjects, suddenly interested in our “girl shit” conversation. “We didn’t know Cutter was coming until last night. What does it matter, anyway? I know the boy has it bad for you, but you broke up with him.”