Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel (10 page)

I wonder if it’s considered stalking if you’re sitting at a diner across the street from the business where your ex-girlfriend, mother of your surprise child, works, trying to get up the nerve to go inside and talk to her? Probably is, but I’m going to need all the time I can take so I don’t walk in there and completely lose it on her. Bottom line is there’s a little girl who belongs to both of us, and she’s my only priority. I should have had this family from the start, but since nobody has a DeLorean to help me travel back in time, I need to work on being the best dad I can be right now. It’s going to be hard, because as much as I hate the hell out of Josette right now, I also just want to hold her, smell her hair, and remember all the amazing times we had. Because I’m a fucking pussy and am still hopelessly in love with the woman who keeps shattering my world piece by piece. Looks like I’m a glutton for punishment.

Around noon, after I’ve been here for a few hours and drunk more coffee than one person should consume, I watch Josette casually stroll through the revolving doors of her building like nothing’s wrong, laughing and smiling with another woman. They turn right and start walking down the sidewalk. Tossing a twenty on the table, surely enough for my coffee and the time I’ve occupied the booth, I wave to the waitress and walk out the front doors.

Crossing the street, I wait for Josette to go into a small deli. I’m only a few paces behind her, but she’s yet to notice me.

“I’ll take a BLT on wheat, please,” she says to the cashier behind the counter.

“And hold the mayo. She hates mayo,” I offer, and watch her body still at the sound of my voice. “And go heavy on the tomato if you can. It’s her favorite part.”

“Cutter.” She sighs, and her entire body sags with defeat. Before she turns to face me, I watch her shoulders straighten to a more authoritative posture, as if she’s giving herself the confidence she needs to look me in the eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Again with that question. I figured we had a few things to iron out. I’d prefer to do it in a more intimate setting, but if you’d rather talk here, I’m game.”

Her coworker leans in and whispers in her ear, “Are you okay?” I can make out every word.

“She’s perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about. You might want to tell her boss she’s going to be out the rest of the afternoon. Think you can pass that message along?”

“Josette?” she questions. “Tell me you’re okay. This guy’s kinda scary.”

“Yes. Yes, he is, but I’m perfectly safe. He’d never hurt me,” Josette answers, never taking her eyes off mine. “Tell Barry I’ll finish my work from home and I’m not feeling well. Or don’t tell him anything at all, I’ll email him later.”

“Okay. If you say so. Please call me later so I know that dark-and-scary hasn’t murdered you or put you in a basement or something else out of a horror movie. I need to know you’re okay.”

“Drea, I’m good. I swear. I might need you to get Bethany from daycare if that’s not a problem. I’m not sure how long this is going to take.”

“Anything, you know that, babe. Just text me and let me know.”

With another angry “if you hurt my friend, I’ll kill you” look, the woman now known as Drea leaves the deli with her sandwich. I place my hand on the small of Josette’s back and lead her out of the building.

“My place or yours?” I ask.

“Yours is fine.”

“Is it because you don’t want me knowing where you live?”

“No, not at all. I just feel more comfortable with you at your house. You’ve never invaded my private, safe place and I’d like to keep it that way until we figure this out.”

“Your wish is my command.”

After pulling up in front of the gym, I usher Josette up the back staircase as I’d done so many times before, only this time it feels so final, like we’re deciding the rest of our lives, and we both know we can’t be together because she kept me from knowing about our daughter.

“Tell me about her. Bethany. I want to know everything.”

Josette’s face softens when she begins to talk about our daughter. “She’s perfect, Cutter. She’s a dream. Everything we ever could have wanted. She’s smart and kind and absolutely, utterly perfect. There’s not a single thing I’d change about her,” Josette gushes like any proud mother.

“Does she know she has a dad?” I ask, hoping she does, but guessing she doesn’t.

“Yes, Cutter, she knows. She knows it’s you, but not you, if that makes any sense. She asked me one time about her dad, since she hears other kids talk about their dads, so I gave her the specifics. I told her how wonderful you are and how amazing you can be. I told her that you’re working really hard and that’s why you’re not here. And I told her how much you love her. We actually talk about you all the time.”

“I want to know her, Josette. I deserve to know her and be able to tell stories about her the way you can. I’ve already missed so much, I can’t bear missing any more. We need to find a solution, because I live in Vegas and you live here. There has to be some kind of custody agreement we can come to without getting lawyers.”

“What? You’re wanting to take her from me? Cutter, you can’t do that. I’m her mother. She needs me. You can’t just come in after two years and take my baby away from me.” Her panic is written across her face. There’s no way I want to take my daughter from her mother, but I need my time, too. I have to make up for the last two years of missing all those milestones.

“I’d never take her from you. That’s why I wanted to talk. To see what we could work out. I can come here between training and fighting. I can be here for her. Get to know her. I could be the dad she deserves, but you have to let me try.” Josette relaxes, but not much.

Reaching out, I take her hand in mine, and all the familiar sparks I felt years ago flood back. My memories are getting the best of me, yet I manage to push them aside to try to comfort Josette, even though at this time she doesn’t deserve my comfort. “We’re in this together. We have to be.”

“Please just don’t try to take her from me. I could never afford the kind of attorneys you could. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.” She squeezes my hand and looks up at me with the eyes I fell in love with as a tear falls down her cheek. Out of instinct, I brush away the moisture with the pad of my thumb, and don’t miss the sharp intake of air from Josette or how I’ve suddenly stopped breathing.

“Can you show me some pictures of her? I’m sure you have a bunch.” I need to break the tension. I’m close to letting autopilot take over and picking up where we left off before I went to Vegas.

“Absolutely.” Luckily, Josette pulls her hand from mine, reaches for her purse, and pulls out a phone. Flipping through apps, she comes across her gallery. Instead of passing me the phone, she leans into my side, pulls her feet up underneath her body, and rests her arm across my midsection while she starts going through different albums.

Each time she scrolls from image to image, her arm grazes my groin, and each time, it gets harder and harder to ignore—pun totally intended. Josette shares the story behind each picture: why it was taken, and how amazing or sad or silly the day had been. There’s no denying that Bethany’s been the light of her life since she was born. As glad as I am to see Josette so happy, it burns like liquid fire in my gut. I shouldn’t have to be told these stories. I should have been there. They should be my stories to share with people about my daughter.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jo?” I ask softly as we continue to look at the gallery of Bethany.

Josette goes into telling me how she figured it would be better this way since we had already agreed on an abortion. How much more she wanted for me and my life, and how much I deserved some sort of freedom, since I had been screwed over so badly as a kid. I can understand her motives, but it doesn’t erase the hurt.

“I wanted to keep her, you know. I never wanted you to have an abortion,” I say honestly. “I just knew how important your future was to you, and I never wanted to stand in the way of you making something of yourself. I knew you were your own backup plan. But I wanted her. I would have given up everything, just like you did, or at least put it on hold until after she was born, because you were all I ever wanted, and a baby would have just been the icing on the cake.”

“I know you say that now, Cutter, but there was no way to know if we would have ever survived a baby. We were so new. Yeah, best friends, but going from best friends to instant family could have gone really bad. I wanted you to achieve your dreams, and you did and I’m so proud, and I had to protect Bethany. What if you left her? What if something happened to us and it got ugly? I wasn’t trying to steal her from you, I wanted to be her protector.”

More tears start to fall from her eyes, and I can’t stand it anymore. Reaching around her waist, I pull her into my lap and let her cry on my shoulder as I rub her back gently. “I’m not going anywhere and I’ll never let it get ugly. But you have to let me get to know her. I’ll go at your pace, but you have to give me a chance to be in her life.”

“Okay.” She sniffles, picks up her head, and stares into my eyes and I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with her all over again.

“Cutter,” she murmurs, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her. Put my lips to hers and remember how perfectly we fit together. From the couch cushion, her phone lights up and a generic ringtone sounds. I glance down at the screen and the name that’s illuminated is “Colton.”

She jumps out of my lap, grabs the phone, and walks into the kitchen. Josette tries to lower her voice, so I quietly move closer to hear what’s going on.

“No, everything’s okay. Drea’s exaggerating. Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon. Can you feed her some dinner for me and I’ll be there as soon as I can? Colton, don’t. Please don’t start with this. She’s his daughter.”

Knowing they’re talking about me now, and my daughter, I storm into the kitchen and snatch the phone from Josette and put it to my ear. “What aren’t you supposed to be starting? She’s my fucking child.” The line goes dead and instead of throwing the phone across the room like I want to, I hand it to Josette and walk back to the living room.

“Cutter,” she whispers, coming up behind me and placing her arm on my shoulder. “Can we talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about? You’ve moved on, have some other man raising my kid, and now you’re standing in my living room, and just a few minutes ago you would have let me take you to bed if I’d asked. What happened to you, Jo? You used to be so strong. Now what? You’re just whoring yourself out to anyone who will help you take care of my kid instead of coming to her father,” I seethe, unable to control my anger.

“This conversation is fucking over.” Before she walks out the door, she writes something on a piece of paper and tosses it on the end table. “That’s my number. You can call me to set up a time to see Bethany. I’ll talk to you whenever.” Then she stomps out the door, and before I can make it downstairs she’s at the curb and jumping into a cab.

“Son of a bitch!” I yell, and punch the brick wall behind me, immediately regretting the decision as my knuckles crack against the scratchy surface and blood forms across my hand.

Running back up the stairs, I pull out my phone and dial Max, my agent, who’s pretty good at finding information people don’t want found. “Max,” I bark, “get me anything you can on Josette Morelli. Address mainly. And I need it right now.”

“You got it, boss. Give me five.”

It’s less than three minutes before a text comes through with Josette’s last known address, which, from what she’s told me, appears to be where she’s living. I haul ass out of the apartment, jump in the car Rian’s letting me borrow, punch the address into my GPS, and fly down the highway. The hell if this conversation is over. We’re not over. Nothing is over.

Who the hell does she think she is, storming out of my apartment because I’m pissed? I have a valid fucking reason to be angry. She didn’t even see it coming until I whipped my car directly behind hers when she pulled in the driveway. Our eyes meet in her rearview mirror and her look of sheer terror doesn’t escape me. That makes me almost as angry as her keeping Bethany from me. I’ve never put my hands on a woman in anger and I’m sure as hell not going to start now, especially with the mother of my child. Rushing out of the car, not even shutting the door behind me, I reach her before she’s able to flee her own vehicle and run into the house.

“Cutter, we can’t do this here,” she says, flipping her head back and forth between me and the front door. The realization settles hard in my stomach that she’s probably got a boyfriend or husband inside and doesn’t want to explain to him what the hell some other dude is doing here. But as far as I’m concerned, I had her first and until we get shit straight about our daughter, I’m not leaving, whether she’s married or not. That dude can kick rocks. This is
my
family.

“We were talking, but you got a stick up your ass when I laid your shit bare. I’m sorry if I can’t sugarcoat this bullshit, Jo. You owe me a lot more than running away because your feelings got hurt. She’s my daughter, I want to know her, and I want my fucking family. You don’t get to decide when that happens. You’ve done enough of the choice making, wouldn’t you say?”

“Please,” she begs, pushing at my chest, but I don’t budge.

“No,” I growl, stepping in to her. She tries to close the door, but I’m able to grab a hold of her hand and pull her out of the car. Dragging her out of the way, I slam the door behind her and push her up against the car. Towering over her, I watch her switch rapidly from fear to anger and finally to acceptance that I’m not the kid I used to be. I’m not going to be pushed to the side and left to hang. And she’s not the powerful, confident woman I first met, either. Something more than the shit I threw at her earlier changed her, too. I can almost smell her insecurity; it’s pouring out of her.

“Josette? Everything okay?” a man’s voice asks from the front porch. Probably a boyfriend, because a husband sure as shit wouldn’t allow some strange man he’s never met to be this close to his wife. At least Garrett wouldn’t stand for this shit. I’d already be laid out on my ass.

“Yeah, Colton, I’m good. You can go back inside,” she responds, never breaking eye contact with me.

“I’ll just wait on the porch for you,” he says, and I snap.

“Listen, bro. She’s fine. I’m not going to hurt her. I just got a few things I need Josette to clear up,” I boom. I look up from Josette and see the man starting to walk my way and that’s the second I recognize him.

“Colt,” I sneer, curling up my lip as I look back to her. “Seriously? That fucking asshole? That’s who you decide to start fucking as soon as I’m gone? Wow, Josette. Just fucking wow.”

I back away and raise my head to look back at him. “I fucked you up once before, dude. Don’t make me do it again.” That’s the second he recognizes who I am, and I can tell by his body language he’s confused. One part wants to advance, give it back to me as good as I gave him all those years ago, and the other part knows I fucked him up when I was nothing but a hundred and fifty pounds, and there’s a lot more I can do with the extra fifty pounds of muscle I’ve put on since he saw me last. I’m sure he’s seen me fight. I’m not the emotional kid I used to be, and he’s not in the best shape of his life. He’s as good as dead if he takes another step.

“You should go, Cutter,” Josette whispers.

“I guess so. Looks like he got what he wanted all along, huh? Did he get to bend you over the desk and fuck you in nothing but your heels?”

“Cutter,” she snaps. “Enough. It’s not like that.”

“Sure as fuck looks like that. You’re coming home from work to him. Probably cooking dinner for him and going to bed with him. That’s cool, Jo. You’re free to fuck whoever the hell you want. I’m out.” I thrust my hands in the air, palms raised toward the sky. “I’m fucking done. Take care of yourself, Jo.” Leaning in close, our noses almost touching, I whisper one last thing to her. “But he doesn’t take care of my kid. You do what the fuck you want, but none of this fake-ass family bullshit, not with Bethany.”

She reaches out for me, as if she wants to pull me back, but drops her hands to her sides. I can’t believe I ever gave a shit about her when she clearly only cares about herself. There’s no damn way she’s gone through as much as she’s put me through in the last twenty-four hours. I wanted to mend fences, make a connection with my kid, maybe, possibly, see if there was anything left for us together, but I can’t be associated with a selfish bitch like her, not after having known such selfless people as Garrett and Rian.

As I walk back down the driveway, the screen door slams shut and I assume it’s Colt going back into his house with what should have been my woman. Then a little voice stops me dead in my tracks.

“My mommy,” a little girl squeals, her voice reminding me of what Gregory’s used to sound like when he was a toddler. I know immediately it’s Bethany. I want to go to her. I want to hold her. I want to smell her perfect little head. I want to be her dad.

Shaking my head, “Fuck this,” I mutter, and rush to the porch. Josette glares at me with a warning in her eyes and Colt stands off to the side, unsure of his role. If I had my way, he’d have no fucking role.

“Hi, baby girl. How’s Mommy’s baby?” Josette picks up Bethany and dips her head into Bethany’s little neck, and all I see is green. Green, hot jealousy.

Bethany’s eyes scan me, and she looks back and forth between me and Josette. Pointing her dainty little finger in my direction, she smiles and asks a question. “Who, Mommy?”

A perfect little angel. My heart recognizes her immediately, just as it did when I saw her at Rian’s, seeing my features in her face and a pair of eyes identical to mine staring in my direction. God, this girl is perfect.

“That’s Mommy’s old friend Cutter, baby girl. Can you say, ‘Hi, Cutter’?”

“Hi, Cuddo,” Bethany whispers, trying my name on for size.

I take a moment to relish my daughter saying my name, then realize she’s saying my given name when she should be calling me Daddy. “Friend, Jo?”

She doesn’t say it out loud, but her mouth and eyes clearly scream,
Oh fuck
as she sets Bethany down.

“Yeah. You’re right.” Turning to my daughter on the front porch, I soften my expression so I won’t scare her and switch my tone. “Mommy said I can stay for dinner. Would you like that?”

The little girl’s face lights up, and Josette’s falls. Colt, standing stupidly on the porch, looks to Josette for answers she isn’t giving him. And me—I put on a smug smile and start up the stairs, past Josette. When I get to the porch, I turn to Colt and give him his final warning. “I’ll take it from here, dude. Thanks for looking out for my kid, but you’re no longer needed.”

“Josette?” he asks, seeking her approval to stay.

“Just go on and go, Colt. Thanks for getting her from Drea, but it looks like I’ve got some things to take care of tonight.”

Nodding, he carefully steps around me and pauses by Josette, placing a kiss on her cheek. All I want to do is tackle him and rip off his head, but I remain in place. He gets into a pickup truck and squeals his tires as he rounds the corner out of Josette’s neighborhood. Well, as pissed as I am that fucker’s here playing house with my kid, it’s a relief to know he doesn’t live here, too.

Bethany runs into the house and Josette walks past me, stops when she’s a few stairs above me, and turns around, looking me dead in the eye. All the fear she was feeling has been replaced by a protective look in her stare. “If you scare her, make her sad, or God forbid make her cry, I’ll fucking kill you.” Josette’s voice comes out low so Bethany doesn’t hear, but it’s a definite warning, nonetheless.

“Calm the hell down,” I say, moving to pass her, and she steps in my way.

“You’re a lot bigger than me and won’t have much issue getting past me, but I promise you this, Cutter. If you hurt my child, I’ll gut you like a fucking fish. You don’t get in my home until you give me your word.”

As much as I want to snatch her up and flip out because she’s hidden my child from me this long, I can’t help but feel all kinds of pride about how protective she is of this little girl. There’s no doubt in my mind she’s dead serious. Placing my hand on her shoulder, I squeeze gently and soften my features and tone the same way I did with the little girl.

“I’d never hurt her, Jo. I’m pissed as hell, but she’s a kid. My kid. I won’t scare her. I won’t make her uncomfortable. And obviously she doesn’t know I’m her father, and I won’t push it just yet either. I need to get to know her before you drop that bomb. And yes, you will be the one to do it, but not tonight. Breathe and introduce me to my daughter.”

Together, Josette and I step inside the house and I follow her into the kitchen. The tiny blonde is standing on the counter reaching for what looks like a kid’s plate and cup set with princesses all over it. I step behind the little girl, lift her up a little higher so she can reach what she’s going for, and then place her on the floor.

“Thank you,” she whispers, obviously nervous with a stranger being in her home. “You sit by me.” I help by setting the plate on the table in the eat-in kitchen, she smiles up at me, and again, her eyes confirm everything Josette never told me. This little girl belongs to me.

Josette comes around the island and places the inner shell of a slow cooker on a mat in the center of the table. Scooping some meat onto our plates, she follows it up with vegetables and walks back into the small kitchen area. “What would you like to drink?” she asks me, but the little girl answers.

“Milk, Mommy. Please…” She pauses and turns to me, probably having forgotten my name.

“Cutter,” I respond weakly over the lump in my throat.

“Me and Cutter want milk. Fank you.” Josette looks up at me for approval and I nod. I’m pretty sure if this little girl said I wanted battery acid, I’d agree too. I don’t even know her middle name and I’m wrapped around her finger.

I wait until both the girls take their seats before taking my own. I grab the salt and pepper, generously season my meal, and just listen to mother and daughter talk about their day.

“What color card did you get today?” Josette asks.

“Red,” the little girl mutters, looking down at her plate, then picking up a carrot and popping it in her mouth.

“Bethany Lorna Greer! What for this time?”

Bethany Lorna Greer. Her name is Bethany Lorna fucking Greer. My daughter has my name. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Smiling like a kid on Christmas morning, I continue to listen in on their private conversation.

“Billy sayed girls stink. I don’t stink,” she says indignantly, then spills the beans as to why she got in trouble. “I knocked over his Legos and kicked ’em.” Luckily, Bethany lowers her head, so she doesn’t see me start to chuckle so hard I nearly spit my milk across the room. Looking over at Bethany, I see that her little face is so serious. She really means it. I glance at Josette and see she’s also fighting back laughter, the inside of her cheek sucked between her molars, biting down hard enough to keep her face straight.

“Bethany, you have to follow directions and be a good girl. How are you going to be ready for preschool if you keep getting red cards?”

“This isn’t the first time?” I quietly ask, leaning into Josette. Her side eye and tight lips are answer enough. Apparently, our daughter is a little hellion.

“I going to the zoo tomorrow, remember, Mommy?”

“I remember, baby.”

“I wear my pink dress. Don’t forget.”

“I swear I won’t, Bethany.”

“And pretty hair.”

“I know, honey.”

I honestly don’t want to interrupt their conversation, but I really want to talk to Bethany, too. It’s odd, because I feel like I’m a kid again, fighting for attention. I really need to get my shit in order. “I’m an old friend of your Mommy’s. We used to be best friends when we were younger,” I say, giving Bethany, who probably doesn’t comprehend any of this, a little background information on how I might fit into her perfect little bubble. “Your mommy was the best video game player I ever met.”

“Video games are for boys,” Bethany snarls.

“Nope. Anyone can play video games, baby,” Josette says, and the rest of the conversation starts freely flowing.

“And she was the prettiest girl I’d ever met,” I offer, making Josette’s cheeks pinken.

“Just like me. I’m Mommy’s pretty girl.”

Smiling back at Bethany, I nod. “Yes, you are the most beautiful. Absolutely perfect.”

Underneath the table, Josette grabs hold of my hand and squeezes. Somehow, I peel my eyes from my daughter and look over at Josette, who has tears in her eyes and the biggest smile on her face.

“Absolutely perfect,” I whisper to Josette, and a tear slips from the corner of her eye.

Thank you,
she silently mouths.

“No, thank you,” I softly respond, squeezing her hand in return, and look back to Bethany, who is completely oblivious, picking away at her dinner.