5. Christian
Christian
H olly Ridge had the kind of quaint charm that belonged in a snow globe. As I strolled down Main Street, I noticed the shops decorated with twinkling lights and evergreen garlands. It was as if the entire town had decided to collectively embrace the festive spirit.
The aroma of freshly baked pastries wafted from a nearby bakery, drawing me closer. I stepped inside and was greeted by the warmth and the sound of Christmas carols playing softly in the background.
"Morning." I nodded to the woman behind the counter, her cheeks rosy from the heat of the ovens.
"Morning," she replied, her smile genuine. "Can I get you anything?"
I glanced at the display case filled with an assortment of pastries and bread. "A coffee and one of those cinnamon rolls."
As she prepared my order, I observed the customers, mostly locals by their friendly banter and familiarity with each other. It reminded me of home, though it felt like a lifetime ago.
"Here you go," she handed me my coffee and pastry. "Enjoy."
"Thanks." I found a corner table and sat down, savoring the warm roll and hot coffee. The combination was comforting, almost making me forget why I was here in Holly Ridge.
The door jingled as more customers entered, bringing with them a burst of cold air. Among them was an elderly man who settled into a chair by the window. His eyes met mine briefly before he turned his attention to his newspaper.
After finishing my snack, I decided to continue my exploration. The tree-lighting ceremony Claire mentioned would be later in the evening, and while I had declined her invitation, part of me was curious about this place.
Walking further down Main Street, I came across a small park where children played in the snow under the watchful eyes of their parents. The scene was idyllic.
I approached a bench and brushed off some snow before sitting down. The cold seeped through my coat, but I didn't mind. It grounded me in reality, something I'd been struggling to hold onto lately.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed when someone sat next to me.
"Lovely day, isn't it?"
I turned to see a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and an easy smile.
"Yeah," I replied, not quite sure what else to say.
"I'm Mary," she offered her hand.
"Christian."
We shook hands, her grip firm yet gentle.
"You new around here?" Mary asked, her curiosity evident but not intrusive.
"Just passing through."
She nodded as if that explained everything. "Well, if you need anything or have any questions about Holly Ridge, feel free to ask."
"Thanks," I said.
I couldn't understand how everyone in Holly Ridge could be so damn nice. It was like I had stumbled into a parallel universe where kindness was the default setting. After everything I had seen and done, this felt unreal. My experiences had painted a much darker picture of the world.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. I fished it out and glanced at the screen.
Where are you?
I quickly typed back. At a park. Be right there.
I stood up, brushing the snow off my coat. Cavil was waiting for me at the library, and I didn’t want to keep him waiting. Cavil and I went way back, to our days in the SAS. He had been one of the few constants in my life, a steady presence amid chaos.
As I walked towards the library, I marveled at how this town seemed untouched by the harsh realities outside its borders. The sound of children’s laughter echoed in the crisp air, and shopkeepers greeted each other like old friends. It was disorienting, to say the least.
I arrived at the library, an old brick building with ivy creeping up its sides. The door creaked as I pushed it open, and a blast of warm air greeted me. Inside, it was quiet except for the occasional rustle of pages being turned.
Cavil was already there, seated at a table near the back. His hair was shorter now, but his intense blue eyes hadn’t changed a bit. He looked up as I approached.
"Took you long enough," he said with a smirk.
"Had to take in the sights," I replied, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
"Right," he chuckled. "Holly Ridge must be quite a spectacle compared to our usual haunts."
I shrugged. "It’s different."
We fell into an easy silence. With Cavil, words were often unnecessary. We had seen each other at our best and worst; there was no need for pretense or small talk.
The library door creaked open again, and I glanced over. Three men walked in, their movements deliberate and eyes scanning the room. My gut tightened.
Cavil noticed my reaction and leaned back in his chair. "Just wanted to introduce you to some of the guys," he said.
The first man stepped forward, extending a hand. "Luke Taylor," he said, his voice steady. He had the build of a tank, broad shoulders and a square jaw. His eyes were sharp, taking everything in. "U.S. Marine Corps veteran, combat medic."
I shook his hand, feeling the callouses on his palm. "Christian."
The second man followed suit. "Noah Andersen," he said with a nod. He was leaner, with a wiry strength that reminded me of a coiled spring. His eyes were a piercing blue, contrasting with his sandy hair. "Sniper. Army."
I nodded at him, my mind racing. "Christian."
A third man approached from behind them. "Javier Rivera," he introduced himself with a slight accent, a grin playing on his lips. He had an easy confidence about him, dark hair cropped short and an athletic build that spoke of years in the field. "Most folks call me Javi."
"Christian," I repeated, shaking his hand as well.
They all took a seat in a semi-circle, and I noticed Javi's prosthetic leg. He didn't seem to care.
I glanced around at the group gathered around the table. "What is this, some kind of support group?"
Cavil gave me a long look before answering. "Something like that." He paused, gauging my reaction before continuing. "We meet twice a week here."
I leaned back in my chair, trying to process this new information. The library seemed like an odd place for such gatherings, but maybe that was the point—neutral ground away from prying eyes.
"So what do you guys do? Share war stories and swap survival tips?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.
Javi chuckled softly. "Sometimes," he admitted.
Luke nodded in agreement. "It's more about having people who understand," he said.
Noah crossed his arms over his chest, studying me intently. "It's about finding a way forward," he added quietly.
Their words hung in the air between us as I considered them carefully. Maybe there was more to this town than I had initially thought—a sanctuary of sorts for those like us who had seen too much and needed to find their footing again.
"I heard you rented the loft above the inn," Luke said, leaning back in his chair. "How is it?"
"It's decent," I replied, a little surprised by the mundane question. "Small, but cozy enough. Quiet."
Luke nodded. "Sometimes that's all you need."
I half-expected them to start prying about my time in the SAS or even what happened in China. But they didn't. They kept the conversation light, which felt... nice.
Javi leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. "Speaking of the inn, have you met Claire yet?"
"Claire?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"You know, Claire," Javi corrected himself with a wink. "Runs the place. Sweet girl."
"Oh, yeah." I nodded. "I met her."
"She’s great," Noah chimed in. "Always organizing events and making sure everyone feels welcome."
Luke laughed. "Remember that time she roped us into helping with the fall festival? Man, I thought I'd never get those pumpkins out of my head."
Javi chuckled. "Yeah, but it was worth it for those pies she got Emma to make."
"True," Luke agreed. "She’s got a way of making everyone feel at home."
I listened as they shared stories about Claire, their faces lighting up with genuine affection for her. It was clear she was a cornerstone of this community.
"She invited me to the tree-lighting ceremony," I admitted.
"And you turned her down?" Javi asked incredulously.
"I’m not really one for crowds," I explained.
"You should go," Noah said earnestly. "It’s more than just a ceremony. It’s about being part of something."
Part of something. The words echoed in my mind as I looked around at these men who had found their way to Holly Ridge and made it their own.
"Maybe I will," I said finally, surprising even myself.
They nodded approvingly, and we fell into a comfortable silence once more. For the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of belonging in this small town that seemed so far removed from my past life.
I took a deep breath and leaned back in my chair, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders just a little bit more.
The library's warmth enveloped us as we sat in a semi-circle, each of us nursing our own thoughts. The conversation drifted naturally, and before long, we found ourselves swapping stories about our time in combat.
Cavil leaned forward, his expression serious. "Had a rough night last night," he started, his voice low. "Another nightmare."
I shifted in my seat, listening intently. My leg moved up and down despite my best effort to stop it.
"I was back in Kandahar," he continued. "We were on a night raid, and everything went sideways. I could hear the gunfire, feel the heat of the explosions. We lost two men that night." He paused, swallowing hard. "In the dream, I kept seeing their faces, but I couldn't do anything to save them."
A heavy silence settled over the group. We all knew that feeling too well—the helplessness, the guilt.
Noah broke the silence, his jaw clenched. "I can handle a lot of things," he said quietly. "But what really gets to me is how we're treated by some people when we get back." His blue eyes flashed with anger. "Like we're some dirty secret no one wants to talk about."
Javi nodded in agreement. "It's like they want to pretend we don't exist until they need us again."
"It's not about getting thanks," Luke added, his voice steady but firm. "It's about being treated like a normal person."
"Yeah," Cavil said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sometimes it feels like they don't appreciate what we've done at all."
I looked around at these men who had given so much for their countries and found themselves struggling to find their place back home.
"It's frustrating," I admitted. "You go through hell and come back only to feel like an outsider."
"I heard what happened to you," Javi said, his eyes steady on mine. "After China. Were you told to stand down?"
I shook my head once, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. "I wasn't told to go in, either."
They nodded like they understood. It was a familiar story to them—following orders that sometimes never came.
"They still haven't thanked you for what you did, have they?" Cavil asked, his voice low and knowing. He understood the British government.
I clenched my jaw and shook my head. "The first acknowledgment I ever received from a high-ranking official was from the POTUS."
"So, what, the British government denies it?" Javi asked, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief.
"They don't like it," I said flatly. "They're angry it happened. Too much could have gone wrong and painted the government in a bad light."
"But you saved… how many people?" Luke asked, leaning forward.
I shrugged, trying to downplay it.
"Seven hundred," Cavil said. "Final number I heard was about seven hundred people."
"By yourself?" Noah's voice carried a mix of awe and incredulity.
"I went in alone, but I had help," I clarified.
"That's bullshit," Luke muttered under his breath, shaking his head in frustration.
"It is what it is," I said quietly. "In situations like that, you do what you have to do. Orders or no orders."
The room fell silent again.
I leaned back in my chair, the memories of that night in China flooding back.
It had been years since I talked about it, partly because I wasn’t allowed to, but mostly because I didn't want to relive the nightmare any more than I had to.
But now, in the company of these men who understood, it felt almost cathartic.
"Do you ever regret it?" Noah's voice broke through my thoughts.
I looked up, meeting his piercing blue eyes. "Regret what?"
"Going in without orders. Putting yourself on the line."
I hesitated before answering. "No," I admitted. "I did the right thing. I know that. And when I think about those people, their faces..."
Cavil and I shared a look. We didn't need words to communicate what we both knew—some things were worth the risk, no matter the cost.
"I had a feeling you'd say that," Javi said with a small smile.
We sat in silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts.
"Talking about it helps," Luke said finally, breaking the silence. "More than I thought it would."
I nodded slowly. "Yeah, it does."
For so long, I had kept everything bottled up inside, afraid to show any weakness or vulnerability. But here, among these men who had walked similar paths and faced their own demons, I felt a sense of release.
"We've all got our scars," Cavil said softly. "But they don't have to define us."
His words hung in the air between us as we sat there in that old library in Holly Ridge—a town that seemed almost too perfect for men like us. But maybe that's exactly what we needed—a place where we could start to heal and find some semblance of peace.
"Thanks," I said finally, looking around at each of them.
They nodded in understanding, no further words needed. In that moment, I felt a connection stronger than anything I'd experienced in years—a bond forged not just by our pasts but by our collective desire to find a way forward.