Ricochet Read online

  Ricochet

  Ricochet

  A Rise & Fall Novel

  Book 1

  By Jessica Wilde

  Copyright © Jessica Wilde 2015

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover Design by: Jessica Wilde

  Cover Image by: Shutterstock Images

  ISBN-13: 978-1507574621

  The author acknowledges all copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of any wordmarks, songs, and/or quotes used from songs in this work of fiction.

  *Intended for mature audiences only*

  This book contains strong language, sexual situations, and some violence.

  This content deals with aspects of domestic abuse and may be triggering to some readers.

  If you or anyone you know are in an abusive relationship, call the National Domestic Violence hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or TTY: 1-800-787-3224.

  If you are being abused, even a "little", it's too much. Why? Domestic violence can often escalate from threats to verbal abuse to physical abuse. NO ONE deserves to be abused.

  For you,

  You are not an object.

  You are not weak.

  You are no different from him, except for your beauty, your compassion, and your heart.

  You are a woman and that in itself is all he needs to know.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bonus Content

  Ricochet Playlist

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Other Titles by Jessica Wilde

  Ricochet

  A Rise & Fall Novel

  Book 1

  The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.

  – Ernest Hemingway

  Prologue

  Fear.

  It's the last thing I remembered.

  I was afraid.

  Afraid to fight, afraid to run… afraid to breathe.

  Then, everything had gone dark. As if life was finally hearing my pleas, my cries to end the torment. To end the fear.

  But even in the dark, I still felt it.

  I always felt it.

  The rush of useless adrenaline, the sound of my heart frantically beating against my chest like a drum. The churning in my gut that made me want to fold into myself for some kind of reprieve, to close my eyes and imagine that none of it was really happening, that it was all just some fucked up nightmare that would go away with time. But it never went away and I was still afraid.

  But this time… this time there was something new that came after the fear. There was light, there were soft voices instead of the harsh, cold one spitting in my ear to wake up, only to be afraid all over again. There was still pain, but this time, someone was waiting for me to wake up that didn't want me to be afraid.

  "Don't let him win," the voice said. "Don't let him have your strength. Take it back… take it back and never let it go."

  Then, the darkness came over me once more and instead of fear, I felt hope.

  Instead of pain, I felt peace.

  And instead of doubt, determination.

  My life had been a ricochet of one event leading to the next. Bouncing back and forth from good to bad. Happiness to despair. Hope to fear.

  I was done.

  Enough was enough.

  Chapter One

  "I don't really know where the world is but I miss it now."

  Jason Walker 'Echo'

  A Calm and a Storm

  Most people don't pay attention to what is going on around them. They live day to day in a world they create, a world they alone know everything about, a world they are constantly trying to control. They never stray from that world, they never doubt.

  Most of the time, these people keep their heads down.

  There are some, however, who worry more about what the people beside them are doing or experiencing than they do about themselves. These people observe. Ever watchful of the world around them - the one they didn't create - they tend to interfere at the most critical moments. The moments that send a person down one of two roads.

  The first road is a paradise, a saving grace. A path you never thought you would reach and a life you never knew you could have. It's the path to a happily ever after if you are lucky enough to get to the end.

  The second road is a purgatory.

  Pretty self explanatory.

  There is no way for those who interfere to choose on which road their self acquired charge will be sent. Seems like a pretty steep gamble to me, but these people continue to observe, they continue to worry and wonder, and they continue to infiltrate those critical moments no matter how much of a risk it truly is.

  I have no positive thoughts towards either type of person.

  One way or the other, they will continue on with their lives, keeping their heads down or up. It makes no difference to me. Neither kind has done anything significant for me and you can't change people.

  I have learned that the only person I can control is me.

  The only person I can change, is me.

  The only world I want to be a part of, is mine.

  I lost that world years ago. Misplaced it somewhere along the way and never got the chance to go looking for it.

  Until now.

  It was three months since I was discharged from that hospital. Three months and five days since my neighbor, Margaret, a 73 year old widow, found me unconscious and bleeding on the steps leading up to my apartment; the apartment I shared with a man who never deserved me. Three months since the world I had been buried in came blissfully crashing down. It wasn't my own world, but it served its time as a replacement for the one I lost. It wasn't beautiful, in fact, it was downright ugly.

  But I was still alive in it for the most part. Alive is better than dead, right?

  The collapse made me think otherwise.

  Death was a beauty compared to the alive I was living.

  I just never found the courage to change my circumstances. Until now.

  Once I was out of the hospital, I left that hell behind and found myself living again. I moved across five states, found a job worth having and a place worth staying. At 24, I had discovered my reality, the reality that a day didn't have to be filled with criticism, pain, and anguish. So I had moved to the same small town my brother lived, the one he always begged me to come to.

  "Need a clean up on five and seven, Ari."

  "Thanks, Janet," I replied to the bright and cheery blonde who never frowned and pulled out a new cleaning towel to wipe down the tables.

  I never thought I would end up waitressing. My dream had been marketing since I was in high school and I had only been able to experience a small glimpse of what I could do. Didn't matter, though. I chose this job and I chose this town. I made those decisions and I was ecstatic about it.

  I started clearing the tables and occasionally glanced around the small pub. Several locals came in regularly just to shoot the shit, but once in a
while there was someone that had just had a bad day altogether and at this time in the evening, they were always on their fifth or sixth drink.

  We had one tonight, but he was harmless. Janet made sure she was taking care of him for the most part while I covered the floor. No one had to ask to know that I didn't play well with drunk people. It took five minutes into my first day to figure that out, so they accommodated.

  I didn't play well with most people these days, but I was trying to change that. Jake was trying to help me.

  After three years, I had finally done it. I had taken my life back. Or what was left of it.

  But there is always a calm before the storm, isn't that right? A stillness before the wind. A break in the chaos. It creeps up on you, taking you by surprise and turning your world back around and then you forget how to breathe. You forget what that little glimpse of peace felt like and wonder if it was all a beautiful dream.

  That is where I found myself at that moment, looking behind me, at the life I thought I had discarded and finding out that I hadn't gotten far enough away. I hadn't even covered my tracks. I was looking at the storm I thought had passed and I couldn't see any way out of it. I should have been more careful. I should have known he would look for me. I left him without one word, without even seeing him again. I should have prepared.

  But how do you prepare for something you don't understand?

  In the minutes before my life changed once more, that beautiful dream flashed in front of my eyes.

  When I came to this town, the first thought that popped into my mind was 'safe'. I was safe with my brother close by and people who had embraced me into their world.

  I found work in the pub across the street from my new apartment. McCall's. The place was clean and busy and the owners couldn't be more pleasant. Both Jim and Marie were in their late sixties, they worked every day to keep the place in good condition and only kept a few extra staff on hand. Janet, Molly, and me; the only one who didn't grow up in this town, but they took me in anyway.

  They gave me the job after speaking to me for ten minutes. Of course, Jake had something to do with that since my brother knew everyone around and was a regular at McCall's, so they had no qualms about hiring his little sister. The pay isn't great, but the people in town know how to tip and after a week of work, I had been able to put aside a full month of rent to have on hand, just in case.

  Jake had found the apartment for me the day I showed up - a favor from a friend - and he paid the first couple of months with the understanding that I would pay him back immediately. He didn't argue, but he didn't expect it either. That's the kind of guy he is. Something that I should have kept in mind during the three years I had spent with no one. Letters, e-mails, phone calls… none of them came through thanks to Roger. He had torn me away from my family, from anyone that would have thought to save me.

  I shook his image from my mind and hauled the dishes from one table back to the kitchen. I had my family back now. That's all that mattered.

  Jake had welcomed me with open arms and revenge on his mind, but we didn't talk much about it. He helped me move my few possessions into the cozy apartment that looked like something I would have picked out for myself in a heartbeat and made plans to show me around town. He owned a tattoo shop a few blocks away and he lived in the apartment above it and said I was welcome any time. I had yet to visit, but he didn't press me. He spent most of his time in the shop and even offered me a job there, but I had refused. I didn't need to take advantage of him any more than I already had.

  He is the only sibling I have and we have always been close. Growing up with him watching over me was almost a forgotten memory now. It was a time that I had felt like nothing could touch me. My parents loved us both and I had never known what misery was. Not until I left them behind to please a manipulative man.

  Looking back to the beginning of this new life, I realized how much I had actually hurt my family. If anything, I should have done things differently for them, not for him.

  I had been in the hospital for two nights before my parents showed up. Margaret had found them quickly and explained what happened. They didn't hesitate to come to their daughter, especially after not seeing me for almost three years. I had opened my eyes to my mother's tear filled ones and my father's clenched jaw. The conversation was stilted, but I think we all got our point across. They asked why I hadn't told them, I told them I hadn't been able to, they accepted my answer and pulled me gently into their arms. My broken ribs screamed at me, but I didn't let them go. It had been too long since I had felt a gentle touch.

  I spent a few months recovering in the house where I grew up getting to know my mom and dad all over again. They were still the same Nina and Scott West, owners of West Construction and talk of the town since my mother is Venezuelan and my father is as American as they come. Jake looked like my dad and I looked like Mom, but we both had a slightly darker complexion, dark brown hair, brown eyes and surprisingly enough, neither one of us could speak Spanish until high school when we took a class for it every year. Staying with my parents for those months brought back a lot of memories, but my parents had changed. The time I spent away from them with no word, no contact whatsoever had been a burden. They looked worn out, older. They were still the loving parents I always remembered, but life was awkward now.

  I had changed, too. I wasn't the same carefree and klutzy girl they knew and loved. I couldn't bring myself to find her either no matter how much I wanted to. She was gone. Beaten and broken. Buried under a cloud of darkness that I had no hope of dragging her away from. Not when it was still so fresh.

  Listen to me, being all negative and broody. This wasn't me. I knew in my gut this wasn't me, but how do you change it when all you have known for the longest time was fear and loss?

  I think, in a way, my parents understood my need to move on and my need to discover myself again, so when I told them my plan to move closer to Jake, they did everything they could to help me. To keep me safe.

  Safe.

  A fucked up word with a fucked up meaning. There is no safety. Not when you have to rely on others to provide it. I would realize that I had to provide it for myself. It would be the only way the nightmares would stop. The only way to forget.

  "Arianna, you get your butt out of here. You've been working all day and you look dead on your feet." Marie crossed her arms as she blocked my path back to the kitchen, yanking me out of my thoughts.

  For an elderly woman, she certainly had the attitude that would challenge a teenager. Her grey hair didn't stop her from trying to look younger either. She had a regular appointment to keep some color in it. "I may be old, but no one will ever be able to guess my age," she always said and it was true. She moved quickly and efficiently and enjoyed every minute of running this pub.

  "I just have a few more tables to clear. I don't want to leave them for Molly."

  Marie rolled her brown eyes, "I'll get them for you. You've done enough today." Her wrinkled hand landed on my shoulder and the smile on her face reminded me that I was in a good place. "Now, get out of here and go see that handsome brother of yours, it's nearly six right now."

  I shook my head, "Gross, Marie. I'm his sister, I don't think of him as handsome."

  She chuckled, "Everyone else does. Why do you think the nights he comes in are our busiest. He has his own damn fan club."

  "Marie, everyone knows you're the president of that fan club," I chuckled.

  She waved a dismissive hand between us, "Heavens no, I'm only vice president. Jane is president, you should know that by now."

  I did. Marie's sister, Jane, was probably the biggest flirt out of all the women that surrounded my brother every day. She was also the oldest and she went so far as to pinch his butt whenever she could and Jake never stopped her. I think he secretly loved it.

  "I have so much competition for his attention," I said with an exaggerated gasp and dramatically pressed the back of my hand to my forehead. "How will I ever make it
through?"

  Marie laughed and gently pushed me toward the exit. "Well, you better go while you have the chance to spend some time with him tonight. I know he missed you."

  I smiled, but didn't respond. He did miss me. My entire family had missed me and if Marie knew why he had missed me, she might not be so kind to me.

  "You are gaining quite the fan club yourself," she chuckled and gestured to a group of young men in the back corner of the pub.

  I glanced back and one of them smiled at me. A normal girl would probably get butterflies in her stomach because he wasn't bad looking. A normal girl would probably absently check her hair. I didn't feel or do any of that because I just didn't care. My long brown hair was almost always in a braid or ponytail, and my makeup was never more than a few swipes of mascara, maybe a little shadow on a good day to make my brown eyes a little bigger. I couldn't wear lipstick because it made me look like a stripper and my clothes weren't revealing in any way. I wasn't ugly, but I wasn't devastating either. I'm short, five feet four inches on those good days when I can lift my shoulders a little higher. I'm skinny, but not in the way that looks healthy at all. I could gain some weight and still be too skinny. I was still having a hard time finding my appetite, but I knew it would come back. It would just take some time, right? Then I would be gaining all the weight in the world because I had an addiction to fried foods and McCall's specialized in fried foods. It was only a matter of time before I was caught sneaking the breaded and fried zucchini from random plates waiting to be delivered.

  "They aren't looking at me, Marie. Always at you," I smiled and let her guide me to my purse.

  "You are getting a raise, my dear. Keep that shit up and I'll give you the whole pub," she gushed and kissed me on the cheek. "Goodnight, dear."

  I dropped off my apron and waved goodbye to Jim who was still behind the counter. He smiled just as big as Marie did, but he always gave me a wink. He was a good looking man at nearly 70 and he knew it. His silver hair was always styled perfectly and the scruff on his face added to his character. Scruff that Marie always scolded him for, but secretly loved whenever he walked up to her and buried his face in her neck. The wrinkles on his face didn't make him look old, just wiser. He was a good man, a strong man, and a flirt. Marie was always slapping him on the shoulder for flirting with the girls, but we all knew it was in good fun. Watching the two of them together was like seeing two pieces of one soul come together.