Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel (8 page)

“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.

P
RESENT, 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.

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.