Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel

by Ashley Suzanne

  “The fuck it is, Josette. I’m her father. Not that dick.”

  “And nobody ever questioned that. He’s a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “This really something you wanna push, Jo? Choose your battles wisely,” he seethes.

  “Battles? Who the hell is battling? You’re over here acting like a damn caveman, placing restrictions on who I can and can’t be around, and have my child around. You’re not running this show, Cutter. It’s about time you get that through your fucking head.” I’m sure as hell that my face is just as red as his. How the fuck dare he dictate my life?

  “Our child,” he corrects me. “Had I known about her from the beginning, that asshole wouldn’t even be a point of conversation. So, like I said, never the fuck again, Josette.”

  “Seriously?” I can’t believe he’s brought up not knowing about Bethany. He knows how terrible I feel, and to use that as his comeback…that’s pretty fucking low. “You’re a fucking asshole. You should go.” I turn to walk back into Bethany’s room and Cutter’s arm flies out in front of me, blocking my path.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, and I can’t bear to meet his eyes. If he truly does feel bad, I’ll lose it right here. I need to really believe he’s an asshole. It’s the only way I don’t have a breakdown. The last twenty-four hours have been too much.

  “Go, Cutter,” I demand, pushing his arm up and out of my way. Thinking I’ve escaped, I’m proven wrong when he follows me into the room and sits in the armchair across from mine.

  “Come here,” he says soothingly, opening his knees and spreading his arms wide. Everything in me wants to crawl onto his lap, but I resist, opting to stay across from him.

  “It can’t be like this, Cutter. I can’t apologize enough for not telling you, but you can’t throw it in my face every time we don’t agree on how to raise Bethany. We have to be a united front, at all times.”

  “I just can’t stand the fact that fucker thinks in his own little head he’s got something over me. You guys are mine, not his.”

  “Well, back that train up for a second there, conductor. Bethany may be yours, but I sure as hell am not.”

  “Quit lying to yourself, Jo. You’ve been mine since the second I laid eyes on you. I just didn’t know it yet.”

  “I’m not anyone’s,” I say, but the words come out more as a pitiful sigh. It’s the truth, I belong to nobody—not Colt. Not Cutter. Not even myself since the moment I chose to be Bethany’s mom. If anything, I belong to that little girl.

  Shaking his head, he ignores my statement and decides to change his tone. “I’d very much like it if Colt wasn’t around our daughter anymore. I’ve never liked that guy after all the shit he said about you. He rubs me the wrong way, and our daughter deserves great people in her life that will help us make sure she turns into a wonderful young woman. Not some asshole like Colt.”

  I nod because I can’t fight anymore. The only thing that matters is Bethany getting well, and Cutter and me bitching back and forth about Colton isn’t going to change that. “Okay.”

  After my concession, the room remains quiet, except for the faint buzzing of the machines next to Bethany’s bed and the sound on the TV, until the doctor walks in, followed closely by Garrett and Rian.

  “I’m sorry, guys. Immediate family only,” the doctor politely tells Garrett and Rian, who look shocked that the doctor had the nerve to try to kick them out.

  “They’re Bethany’s grandparents. It’s fine if they stay,” Cutter speaks up, and I don’t miss the look of adoration on both the Rhodeses’ faces. Cutter’s always thought of them as his surrogate parents, so it’s only fitting they be grandparents to our daughter. Young as hell grandparents, since Garrett’s only ten years older than us, but they took Cutter in when he had nobody. Even though he was an adult at the time, he still had a lot of growing to do, so for all intents and purposes, Garrett and Rian are Cutter’s mom and dad, hence Bethany’s only living grandparents. The thought is sad and almost makes me want to cry, because my parents would have loved this little girl.

  “Okay, but you can only stay for a moment. Bethany needs her rest,” the doctor states, turning to Cutter and me, explaining what he believes Bethany’s problem to be. He uses a lot of medical lingo that I understand but it flies over Cutter’s head, so I put the more complicated things into layman’s terms for him. Basically, it’s just a random bug, nothing disastrous, and as soon as her fever breaks and stays gone for a few hours, they’ll discharge her.

  “Thanks so much, doc,” Cutter says appreciatively, shaking the doctor’s hand before the doc leaves the room.

  Cutter and I both resume our stations at the end of Bethany’s bed while she sleeps. Garrett and Rian agree to go on home since Bethany’s going to be just fine, hopefully by morning, but with our promises to call them if anything changes or if we need anything. As soon as they leave, Cutter reaches across the small space between our chairs, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward him.

  Accepting the fact I can’t tell him no or stop myself from wanting to be close to him, I curl up in his lap and lay my head on his shoulder. For the first time since Bethany started getting sick, a wave of relief washes over me and I’m able to fall asleep.

  —

  Over the next few days, Cutter never leaves. He asked Garrett to pack him a bag and drop it off at my house as soon as Bethany was discharged. Cutter’s set up shop in the living room, using my couch as a bed and the coffee table for a dresser. As much as I want to tell him to come to the bedroom, a part of me refuses.

  We’re in a decent place—able to stand each other’s company, even actually enjoy it—and a lot can go wrong if Cutter and I cross a line we can’t uncross. Bethany’s too important to risk my running him off and her losing so much. So, for the time being, things between us need to remain platonic and friendly, no matter how much I despise knowing he’s sleeping a few feet away, dressed in only a pair of boxers. I sneak peeks at his chiseled body when I go to the fridge for water in the middle of the night. Yeah, I’m becoming a complete creeper…and I’m okay with it.

  “What’s for dinner?” Cutter asks, walking in from his usual afternoon jog.

  “Thinking pot pie or something else like it. I’m craving comfort food,” I respond, tossing my wet slacks into the dryer from the washer.

  “How about pizza?” he asks.

  “We had pizza last night.”

  “And?”

  “Dude, you’d eat pizza every night if you could, wouldn’t you?”

  “After not having it for so long? Yeah, I could eat it every night,” he jokes, reminding me that the last three years of his life haven’t been cupcakes and rainbows. He may have been chasing his dreams and living his dream job, but he had to make sacrifices, like not pigging out on pizza, beer, and all the cupcakes I can bake. Small sacrifices, but sacrifices nonetheless.

  “Pizza it is.” I give in. Of course I do. Who am I kidding? Being away for so long couldn’t have been easy for him, and pizza is his comfort food. I should have remembered that from before Bethany and Vegas. We were always eating pizza, talking about eating pizza, or chowing on cold pizza after a round of super-hot sex. Oh dear. Hot sex. Hot sex with this grown-up version of Cutter could be better than all the pizza in all the world.

  “All right, I’ll go pick it up. I gotta run by my place anyway,” he says.

  Not thinking anything of it, I go about finishing the laundry and start straightening up the kitchen when Cutter leaves.

  Music. I need music. Picking a playlist on my phone, I prop it in the dock and let the sounds of Bone Thugs-N-Harmony blare through the living room, careful of the volume so I don’t disturb the resting Bethany. When the kitchen’s finished, I can’t seem to stop, noticing how much housework I’ve let slide since Bethany’s been sick and Cutter’s been setting up camp. I nearly have the entire living room disassembled and put back together when Cutter walks through the door carrying a few pizza boxes and not one but two large
duffel bags clearly full of his possessions.

  As I give him a questioning stare, he drops the bags on the freshly vacuumed carpet and takes dinner into the kitchen. Without saying a word, I follow him, noticing that he’s making his way through my home with ease, not worrying about anything other than pulling out the plates for supper.

  “Whatcha doing?” I ask softly.

  “Grabbing some dishes. Unless you want to use paper? The house looks great,” he says, stepping away from the counter and leaning into me to place a chaste kiss on my cheek.

  “Nope. Not the dishes. The bags. Whatcha doing?” I repeat.

  “I was out of clean clothes and I grabbed some movies. And the blender in case you wanted to make milkshakes later. I bet Bethany would love the way you used to make them. Remember?”

  “Cutter, can we talk real quick?”

  “Sure.” He plucks a piece of pizza from the box and follows me into the dining room. Sitting in the chair directly next to his, I grab his hand and softly squeeze.

  I cut straight to the chase. “You’re not moving in here, Cutter.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A lot of stuff’s changed over the years, but I can still read you better than anyone else. You’ve got nearly your entire wardrobe here. Your gaming system’s here. All of your toiletries are in the bathroom and closet. I’m pretty sure the only thing left in the apartment is the furniture. You can’t live here.”

  “Why the hell not?” he asks defensively.

  “Because. We’re not together. I don’t want you sleeping on the couch, but you can’t sleep in my bed. You can come see Bethany any time you want, but you can’t live with us. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want only sometimes with her, Jo. I want all the times. And can you please stop kidding yourself? We’re together. Well, mostly, anyway. All we’re not doing is the intimate stuff, everything else…yeah, we’ve been together since I followed you home.”

  “Cutter, we’re not like that anymore. You’re Bethany’s dad, nothing more.”

  “Wanna test that theory?” he asks, pulling my hand into his lap and setting it on his groin. “Wanna tell me that I’m not yours?” He raises my hand, places my palm directly over his lips, and snakes his tongue out to lick it, causing me to squirm slightly in my seat. “Wanna tell me you’re not mine?” He leans forward. I lean forward. Our eyes never break contact. Not until just before his lips touch mine, ever so lightly. “Wanna tell me we’re not meant to be? Cuz baby, if you’re trying to tell me any of this, you’re fucking nuts.” Then his mouth softly comes down onto mine again, and the kiss isn’t punishing like I wished it would be, but caring and loving and so fucking sexy I’m climbing off my chair and straddling his waist, grinding myself down onto him.

  “Cutter,” I moan quietly.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he responds cockily, and gives me the deep kiss I’ve spent the last three years yearning for. I haven’t had time for men since Bethany, not that I was really interested anyway. I kinda figured sex was out of my life for a while. Now with Cutter back, I feel like a horny teenage boy, wanting to jump him at all hours of the day. Only I can’t tell him, because I’m pretty sure he’d take me up on the offer. But, hell, one round with Cutter could last me a lifetime.

  He stands with me wrapped around his hips and starts moving toward my bedroom, fiddling behind me for the handle. We must have made too much noise, though, because a tiny voice drags both of us from the passionate moment.

  “You guys are getting mawwied!” Bethany squeals and runs over to us, hugging Cutter’s leg.

  I frantically pull away, sliding down Cutter’s body and straightening my clothes and smoothing my hair. “No, honey, we’re not.” I watch her sweet little face contort with sadness.

  “But one day we will,” Cutter interjects.

  “Stop it,” I demand.

  “It’s the truth.” He shrugs and picks Bethany up to carry her back to bed. “Let’s get you tucked back in. We can eat in bed tonight, then tomorrow when you’re feeling all better, we’ll go do something fun. Deal?”

  “Deal!”

  I give Cutter and Bethany some alone time while I process everything that’s transpired today: Cutter sneakily trying to move in, our mini makeout session, and then his declaration of commitment. This is a little too much to throw at someone in one day, especially a woman who just had a medical scare with her daughter. Do I want Cutter? Yeah, I’ve never wanted anyone more than him. Would we work? Maybe. There’s a possibility we’ll crash and burn. Is that a valid reason to not try to give Bethany a loving home with her mother and father? Fuck, I’m screwed, aren’t I?

  An hour later, Cutter emerges, tiptoeing out of Bethany’s room, using his stealthy ninja skills to keep from waking the princess I heard calling for more Doc McStuffins just moments before.

  “She’s finally out,” he whispers, and joins me on the couch. As usual, he picks my feet up, sits down, and pulls my feet into his lap and starts massaging.

  “You can’t marry me,” I blurt.

  “And exactly why not?”

  “Because we’ve never even been on a real date.” Yep. You guessed it. I’m caving yet again. Because in this world that’s wicked and evil, if someone can have the slightest chance at happiness, she’d be a damn fool to pass it up.

  Cutter’s always been my forever. At first, I was too young and stupid to realize it. Then I was too prideful to admit it. And now…there’s no use hiding from it or him. He caught me long before I gave in and all I can do is jump in with both feet, praying all three of us make it out unscathed.

  Chapter 19

  Cutter

  Date? She wants to date me? Aren’t we a little past the dating stage? I mean, we have a daughter and spend nearly every free minute together. I think dating would be taking a step backward, but if a date’s what she wants, a date’s what she’s gonna get.

  After straightening my tie—which I feel ridiculous wearing—I pull on a suit jacket and make my way to her house, stopping by the flower shop to pick up a small bouquet of lilies. When I pause outside her front door, nervousness hits me out of nowhere as I realize I’ve never taken a woman on a real date before. I almost sprint down the walkway, until I remember it’s Josette. She’s the one person I’ve always been able to completely be myself around.

  So I knock softly on the door and take a step back to wait for her to open it. And when she does, I’m nearly knocked on my ass by her sheer beauty. Dressed head to toe in black—a short black dress, the skirt resting mid-thigh, with a pair of black heels that add a few inches to her petite frame—she looks like a wet dream come true.

  “Hey,” she huskily whispers, her eyes scanning me much like mine are doing to her.

  “Hi. Where’s Bethany?”

  “Next door with Mrs. Finch. She helps me after daycare if I have to work late and sometimes comes to kidnap Bethy to give me a little break here and there. I’ve never asked her to babysit for a date before, so she’s determined to keep Bethany all night for us.”

  This is why the dating thing is fucking dumb. Here we are, with an all-night sitter, and we’re going out to dinner and maybe a movie, when what we really should be doing is spending the night in the bedroom, with me exploring every inch of Josette. But a date…I don’t know when she turned into a normal woman, and not the gaming, let’s-be-fuck-buddies kind, and started wanting flowers and dinners.

  Shit. Flowers.

  “I got these for you,” I say, awkwardly pushing the bouquet in her direction. Her face lights up and she accepts the offering.

  “Thank you, they’re beautiful. Give me a second to put them in some water. I’ll be right back.”

  I nod but have no intention of waiting outside. I’m going to see if I can derail her plans and spend the night indoors instead of going out. As she rounds the corner into the kitchen, I slip inside and quietly shut and lock the door behind me. Sneaking up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her in
to me, my front to her back.

  “Wanna skip dinner?” I ask, placing kisses down her neck and across her exposed shoulder.

  “Yes, but we’re going. You owe me an honest-to-God date, Cutter Greer, and I’m collecting.”

  I rest my palm on her outer thigh, then slowly and deliberately drag it upward underneath her skirt until I reach the hem of her underwear. Running light circles with the pad of my finger, I slip another finger underneath and graze her lip. “You sure?” I huskily whisper.

  “No,” she says. If I were more of an asshole, I’d take full advantage of the situation, using her body against her, but a date’s a date, and one that I promised her. I have every intention of making her mine—officially—and she demanded a real relationship. The least I can do is provide her with that.

  “Good.” I remove all parts of my body touching hers and back away quickly. She places the flowers in a vase, and as soon as they’re all set, I grab her hand and usher her toward the door. “Time to go. Plans to keep.”

  “And men say women are the teases,” she jokes, grabbing her purse from the chair and locking the door behind us. Once inside the car, she automatically goes for the radio and I playfully slap her hand away.

  “Tsk tsk tsk, Jo. My date, my rules.”

  “You’re impossible.” She sighs, and I chuckle. If she only knew.

  Taking the highway entrance ramp rather quickly, I wait until we’re at the speed limit before I flip on the radio. The song that starts playing sparks a genuine smile from Josette.

  “Why this song?” she asks as Ludacris starts rapping the opening lyrics of “My Chick Bad.”

  “Because this song was playing the first time I got my hands on you. God, it was so hard for me to stop when that creeper kid left. I wanted you so bad.” My words recall the first night at the bar, the night of my birthday, the night I met her while she was hanging out with her friends and I with mine, and how she asked me to pretend to be her boyfriend to get some guy off her ass. Start at the beginning was the advice Garrett gave me to win her heart, like he did with Rian.