Ricochet

by Jessica Wilde

  Jack watched me as I comforted my brother. He watched as I accepted my brother's excuse that he had work to do and wouldn't be back for a bit. And he watched as I did the impossible and held myself together.

  I don't know how long I had been sitting down, but I felt the cushion sink beside me and my muscles tensed.

  "You know, Jake never once forgot about you," he murmured.

  The sigh that left me was full of frustration and guilt. "I never thought he had, Jack. It doesn't matter anymore because there was nothing he could have done."

  "Nothing he could have done?" he repeated disbelievingly. "Ari, he spent every day of the last three years worrying about you, wondering if he should just find you and show up unannounced and take you back home after beating the shit out of that fucker."

  "It would have just made things worse."

  "Would it? You can't know that and neither did Jake. He beat himself up over it and -"

  "Listen," I interrupted and stood to leave, "I don't need you lecturing me or telling me more things that will tear me up so you can just save your breath. I'm here now."

  Jack stood and moved towards me slowly, like he was approaching a scared animal that would pounce if he moved too quickly or spoke too soon.

  "Yes, you are here. You could have been here a lot sooner, though, and that is exactly what is going through Jake's head."

  My anger flared at the nerve he had to tell me I could have done something more, done something different to change my circumstances. I already knew I could have changed them, but no one can understand what it was like inside my head. No one could understand what I was willing to do to protect the people I love. I had no doubt Jack knew what my brother had done, but did he know I would do anything, anything, to protect him?

  "I did what I had to do to survive and I'm going to continue doing it regardless of what anyone else says."

  He moved closer until he was inches away, our chests nearly touching and his spicy scent surrounding me. He looked disappointed and I wanted to be furious, but all I could feel was failure. "You can survive other ways, Ari."

  "No," I replied, shaking my head and taking a step back. "I tried the other ways and they left me empty. They left me as a victim."

  I started toward the hallway, but his gentle grasp on my arm stopped me. His face was soft, but serious and I couldn't handle it a minute longer. The guilt, the questions. I didn't have any answers and even if I did, they were mine to hold onto.

  I didn't want to see the softness in his eyes, the gentleness that was somehow only for me. I wanted him angry, bitter, hateful. I couldn't afford to feel weak and vulnerable.

  "You are not a victim. Not now. But being a victim… it doesn't make it your fault. It doesn't make you weak."

  "A victim can't always fight back. I'm not going to be that ever again, Jack."

  We faced off for a long moment, my resolve never wavering, before he stepped back and released my arm with a nod. I didn't want to feel the sudden emptiness when his touch was no longer on my bare arm. I didn't want to acknowledge that I needed him, that I had needed him all along. He wouldn't understand why. No one could. That's why I never said a word about my feelings for him back then and I wouldn't say anything now.

  I was different now. I refused to need anyone. I only let the people who had been hurt by me before help as much as I dared. It absolved some of the guilt, but not all of it.

  Without another word, I made my way to the bathroom and locked the door. Once I was closed in, I couldn't stop the rush of breath that left me. It felt like I had been holding it in since the moment I walked in the door and saw Jake's face.

  I stepped under the hot water of the shower and let it out. I cried tears that had been waiting to come out for years. I cried for my brother and everything he had been through, I cried for Jack and the life he gave up, I cried for me and the hell I had walked through.

  I let it go because being strong is too hard. I let it go because I had already fallen so deep when I had thought I was holding myself up all along. I had been so afraid to fall that I ignored the fact I was flat on the ground already and everyone could see it but me.

  I let it go because being indifferent is too exhausting. Being this woman was just too much. But I didn't have a choice. My brother's life was on the line. The life he had built for himself, the man he had become, that was all at risk if I didn't fix things. I had to protect him and I couldn't do that if I was weak.

  So, I let it go. The weakness, the fear, the vulnerability that I hadn't been able to shake. I forced it out until the numbness covered every inch of me and the hot spray of water felt as if it were only a small touch. Until the need for the man on the other side of the door subsided enough that I could pull my heart up and out of his hold.

  I told myself I was getting back up. No matter the cost, I was getting back up and I wasn't falling again. For anything.

  I dried myself off and looked into the foggy mirror. I could see the last traces of bruising fading out of my skin. The last traces of anything that contained Roger still on the outside of my body. The inside would have to wait. I needed it for just a little longer to remind me. Only me.

  My eyes shifted down over my breasts and to my side.

  That fucking scar.

  "You're still there," I growled.

  I was wrong. The outside of me would never be clear of him no matter how many bruises and scrapes had healed. My body would be forever marked by him.

  I dressed quickly and made my way back out into the living room. Jack's voice carried down the hall and I knew he was on the phone about something that had to do with West Ink. A client maybe? An idea started to form in my mind.

  "I'll draw it up and call you next week. If you want it any sooner, you'll need to go with Jake."

  Silence except for the tapping sound of his fingers on his laptop. I kept myself slightly hidden and found him sitting at the kitchen table. I could see the website for West Ink on the screen of his computer and wondered who was running it. I felt the familiar itch to create and wondered if I would ever get back to the dream I had when I graduated with my degree. Ideas were already swarming in my head for the advertising my brother could do for his shop.

  It was in my blood.

  It, too, would have to wait.

  "Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I'll talk to you next week then. Okay, bye."

  Jack tossed his cell phone on the table and raked both of his hands through his hair. The frustration was clear on his face.

  "Everything okay?" I asked quietly.

  He turned and smiled as his eyes slid down my entire body to my toes, making them curl against the hard floor. "For now."

  We stared at each other for a moment, neither one of us sure if we needed to continue the previous conversation or just let it go. I decided for us.

  "Is it possible to tattoo over scar tissue?"

  His brows raised in surprise, but he schooled it and got down to business. "It depends on the amount of scarring."

  I pointed to my side without taking my eyes from his. He closed his eyes and nodded, it was as he suspected. "Yes," he said firmly.

  "Okay then."

  "What did you want?"

  "Anything. Just cover the scar. Make it invisible."

  He studied my face for a moment as if he was waiting for me to change my mind and tell him I wanted a butterfly and rainbows or something happy like that. I didn't care what was inked over the scar, as long as I couldn't see it anymore.

  Jack stepped toward me and gestured to my side, "May I?"

  I took a deep breath to calm the quaking in my body. Heat filled my cheeks but I ignored it as best as I could. I was the one who had asked, so I was going through with it. His eyes were dark, but his expression was gentle. It was the Jack I always knew before all the crap and it made all the pain I had just rid myself of come flying back.

  I still wanted him to want me. To want the broken places that would never be strong again. To accept them a
nd hold them together any way that he could. I wanted it, but I couldn't have it. Not yet.

  I slowly lifted my shirt and stopped at the bottom edge of my bra. I watched him as his eyes shifted to my skin and he took a deep breath through his nose before he stepped toward me. I felt his fingers before I knew what he was planning to do and gasped.

  "Sorry, are my hands cold?" he asked, but didn't pull his hand away.

  I shook my head and closed my eyes. His fingers were warm and sent a slow current of electricity over every inch of my body, from my side to my fingers and toes. Get it together, I told myself. He doesn't want you that way.

  His fingers trailed over the raised, pink skin and down, looking for the start of it. His other hand came up to my exposed stomach and gently turned me away so he could follow the line down to the back of my hip. God, his touch just about sent me splashing to the ground in a massive puddle.

  "God dammit, I wish I could wrap my hands around that fucker's neck," he grumbled and his warm breath caressed my shoulder.

  I held my breath as I stated as firmly as I could, "That makes two of us."

  His lips twitched, but he didn't allow the smile I knew he wanted to give me. My need for vengeance didn't necessarily amuse him, but I realized that he found it interesting or intriguing in some way. I guess most women in these situations weren't thinking of revenge, but just trying to get past it.

  "Have you ever told anyone how it happened?"

  I shook my head and pressed my lips together as his fingers started moving up to my ribs. I felt goose bumps following behind his touch and prayed he didn't notice them.

  "You said anything?"

  My face was buzzing from trying to hold my gasps in so I didn't understand his question. "Huh?"

  "You said you don't care what goes on your skin, you just want to cover it?"

  "Well, not anything terribly ugly," I chuckled. "Maybe just a tree or something, I don't know. It doesn't have to be complicated."

  He shook his head, "I'm seeing something different. Do you mind if I share it?"

  I shrugged, attempting indifference that I didn't feel.

  His fingers lifted the back of my shirt a little more to follow the scar up under my bra to my shoulder blade. It took everything I had not to tremble. This was Jack. My friend. Nothing more no matter how badly I wanted it and no matter what signals he had thrown my way in the past. He had never been interested, hell, he probably didn't even realize that half my torso was exposed and it would only take a little tug to see my bra covered breasts. He was just a man and the little things that had happened between us over the last several weeks were just that. Little things.

  "I'm seeing something, not to cover it, but to replace it. Something elegant to match your body's curves," his voice broke a little and he paused to clear his throat. "Something to look at where you don't see an ugly past, you see a beautiful future. Something that won't distract from your beautiful body, but bring attention to the graceful lines you have."

  Beautiful body? Did he think I was beautiful?

  And never in my life had I been called graceful. I couldn't picture anything about me that was graceful.

  "Sounds like a lot of thought in a few minutes."

  The thickness in the room was stifling and I refused to let myself think about it too much. I was just nervous about being so close to him, that was it.

  He dropped his fingers away from my skin and took a quick step back and watched as I pulled my shirt back down. "Not a few minutes. A lot longer than that, Ari."

  I didn't get the chance to ask what he meant. His phone blared and the charge between us faded quickly. He nodded absently. "I'll draw something up and you can decide if you like it or not. I've got to go. You okay here?"

  He was desperate to leave and no matter how much I wanted some time on my own after what happened with Jake, I couldn't bring myself to be relieved. Time on my own was never productive.

  "Yeah, I'm heading down to Jake in a minute."

  His phone kept ringing and he pulled it out of his pocket and turned away with a quick, "Bye" before he gathered his things and walked out the door.

  I dropped down to the dining room chair and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

  What the hell was that?

  Chapter Seven

  "I can't take my eyes off of you…"

  Damien Rice 'The Blower's Daughter'

  Graceful Lines

  Thump, thump, thump.

  Inhale.

  Thump, thump, thump, thump.

  Exhale.

  My feet hit the pavement faster, lighter. My lungs filled with that fresh air, energizing every movement my body made. I was really starting to love the early mornings. That freedom that washed over me with the first breath I took when I stepped outside.

  I checked my watch as I started my second circuit around the cemetery. I was getting fast, lasting longer. It was an accomplishment that made it hard to concentrate on the area around me. It wasn't until I was only about twenty feet away that I noticed a man watching me from the gated entrance to the cemetery.

  My sudden panic quickly subsided and it didn't take long to see that it was Jack. I could probably tell if it was him just by the energy I felt coursing through my already buzzing body.

  He was leaning against one of the gate posts with his arms crossed over his chest. The position was becoming too familiar to me and I wondered what I had done to piss him and Jake off this time. Of course, I had only the slightest inkling that it was because I was alone again.

  "What are you doing?" I asked, ready for a fight if there needed to be one. They weren't going to decide what I could and couldn't do on my own.

  I stopped in front of him, but kept moving my legs so I wouldn't get too stiff from the short break I was taking to straighten him out. His brow furrowed and his arms dropped to his sides. Even though I was a good three feet away from him, I still had to look up.

  "I thought Jake told you not to take risks, Ari."

  "I'm not. I'm running. Across the street. With pepper spray," I taunted and waved the tiny canister in front of him.

  "You think pepper spray is going to stop this guy?"

  I sighed and started walking away so I could keep going, keep moving. I didn't voice my answer either. Roger would never stop. Neither would I. "I'm not stopping, Jack."

  He followed close behind, the heat of him crashing into my back the way it always did. I wanted to run. Sprint away from him as fast and as far as I could because I couldn't handle the feelings that came with him every time he was near me. Longing. Regret. Hope.

  "I like exercising and I like the peace. I need to stay sharp and sitting around the apartment every day in hiding isn't going to help," I said, walking away a little faster to keep my distance.

  "Then I'll be with you. I'll run with you and I'll train you. If it's the only way to keep an eye on you, then I'll do it," he said sharply and wrapped his fingers around my wrist to gently pull me to a stop.

  "I don't need a babysitter," I bitterly informed him. It pissed me off that the hum passing through my arm from his touch was so pleasant. That it made me want to do anything the man said.

  God, I was being ridiculous. This was Jack, my friend.

  "No, but you need to open your eyes! You're not a little girl with no worries anymore. You're a woman that has been through hell and needs to learn from it."

  I felt tears sting my eyes, my nose burned and the high I was feeling from my run and from his touch dissipated. How dare he?

  He regretted the words the moment he caught my glare.

  "You think I haven't learned from it? Why the fuck do you think I'm doing this? Because I have nothing else to do? No! I'm doing it because I learned from it. You don't understand -"

  "Then help me understand, Ari. Tell me what you won't tell anyone else. Trust me with it, with you." His tone gentled with those last two words.

  With me?

  He had nothing to do with me other than h
is involvement through Jake. He was a friend, well, more of an acquaintance nowadays. A man who felt a sense of protectiveness for his best friend's little sister. That's how it always had been. How it always would be. Trusting him wasn't an issue when it came to protecting me or caring for me. Trusting him with the things that I had suffered through and fought through over the last three years was an issue, however.

  I didn't want to feel the shame that came with telling him everything that was done to me, every little thing that humiliated me.

  "I can't."

  He looked down at the ground for a long moment, disappointed. "You will. Eventually."

  "Jack -"

  "We'll start Monday night. I'll help you, but for the love of God, don't tell Jake."

  I wasn't about to argue with that. If he was going to help me learn to fight, I was going to jump on the opportunity. Who best to learn from than the great Jack Garrett, according to everyone in town. I tried to contain my excitement. "Thank you, Jack. I won't tell him, but why not start tonight?"

  "You have a busy weekend, I'm sure, and you'll need to prepare yourself. Plus, we can't start tonight because we are going to start your tattoo tonight. It will take a while and it's better if the irritation from it isn't so fresh."

  "You already have it ready?"

  He nodded, then quickly turned around and started walking back to the gate. "Now finish your run and I'll walk you back home."

  It didn't take very long to get back to the apartment. Partly because I was too excited to run much longer and because I needed to get ready for my shift at McCall's. Jack watched me finish, his eyes staying glued on me when they weren't checking the surrounding area every so often. The second time I stumbled over my feet made me force myself to stop watching him. Even in the deserted cemetery, I could feel his commanding presence. Jack's pull was stronger and stronger every day and the more he surprised me, the more I realized that he had changed things for me. I came into this town thinking I would move on with the help of my brother.