Undoing.

Christian Xavier Ortiz. 33. Former war correspondent. Future novelist.

[chrisxortiz]

Chris was itching. Not literally, of course, but he may well have been. The need to get on a plane and go somewhere anywhere was like a physical itch under his skin. It got like this sometimes... Whenever he’d stayed in one place for too long. He hadn’t left Westwick since he’d returned nearly six years ago. He’d told himself that he’d had to stay -- for his mother, for his sister, because he was writing a book -- but now that his family had finally realized that he was alive and as well as could be expected and everything on his end of the bookmaking process was complete, he really had no excuse. “So here’s what’s going to happen,” Chris began, balancing the weight of the dart in his hand. “I get on a plane to where ever this bad boy lands. You’re free to join me. Or not. Your choice.” 

[chrisxortiz]

mscarleighaortiz:

Carly smiles softly and shrugs. “People are gullible. I mean how many ponzi schemes are out there. You see one go down or get caught there’s probably dozens of others going on in the same city.” 

She chuckles and looks up to him with a sheepish smile. “A bit of both. To be honest I started out just playing around seeing what I could get into because i was bored. And then one day I ventured in to something else. I’ve done more re-purposing of ill-gotten gains than I have taking people down. I haven’t done that in a long time though. now its more just to see what I can get into. That’s how I met Atlas actually. He’s taught me quite a few things over the years.” She smiles softly and nods “I know, I think on some level Ma and Pops do as well. Just the next time you venture off. i want weekly postcards. Just so I know you’re safe” 

He was so proud of her, his little Robin Hood. True, in his career, Chris had learned that vigilante justice made for a good story but not necessarily a good lifestyle choice, but he would never say that to Carly. Each Ortiz seem to have that drive for justice, they’d all done things that could be deemed as being a bit outside of the law in the pursuit of that outcome; she’d just taken a route that was a bit more nontraditional than what was expected of an Ortiz. 

He loved the way her eyes lit up whenever she was allowed to taalk about her job. The library made her happy, but this was different. Mayve the fact that it was mostly a secret added to the allure. It certainly would for him. Which was why he found himself now promising to always be in contact with his family when he was overseas. “I’ve promised you that already. Video chats, phone calls, postcards. Whatever the hell you and ma want.” Not that he planned to head out any time soon. “Have I told you lately that the world’s a better place because of you?” Chris ruffled his sister’s hair gently before settling his arm around her shoulders. “Now tell me more about this job. How’s that secret project of yours going?” 

[vwilscn]

@chrisxortiz​

Some nights, Gabe just never slept. He’d pass out for a nap sometime after the sun rose, surely, but sometimes sleep just didn’t come during the night. On this particular night, he’d managed an hour or so before waking from a particularly violent dream. He was sweaty, nauseous, and out of breath when he found himself sitting bolt upright in bed. He took a few minutes to breathe through his nausea before taking a cold shower to wash the sweat from his skin.

That’s why he was walking down a pier at three in the morning. He’d passed a cab in the street as he walked, but hadn’t encountered any other people. Till now, that was – he recognized a figure on a bench not too far from him and wondered whether he should turn and walk in the other direction. He recognized the face, though, and figured that the other might appreciate the company. If he found himself in the same situation as Gabriel, that was. Then again, Gabe didn’t know whether Chris Ortiz liked companionship at three in the morning.

He sat down next to the other, leaving space between the two of them, and was quiet for a moment. “Ocean’s nice,” he eventually commented, voice low enough that it wouldn’t pierce the quiet as harshly as it would’ve at a regular volume. “Relaxin’. Don’t have this where I grew up. We’d just use sound machines to fake like there was one outside while we fell asleep.”

[chrisxortiz]

Chris had had so many good days recently that he wasn’t even a bit shocked when he woke up in a cold sweat one night, images from his time abroad flashing in his mind; he’d been waiting for this to happen. Maybe his anticipation had caused the bad days to come sooner than they should have or maybe the Universe had taken one look at him and realized that he was growing too comfortable in the rhythm of his life; so, of course, it was time to disrupt that. 

Usually, on the nights when he woke up in a cold sweat, an unvoiced scream rubbing his throat raw, he’d throw on a hoodie, some running shoes, and run until he’d outrun the demons nipping at his heels. He’d always, somehow, end up at Shea’s doorstep with nothing to offer but haunted eyes and terror, but Shea accepted him in a way that few others did. Tonight, though, he was much too amped up to go to Shea. He’d already logged four miles, but he could still taste the taint of blood in his mouth, so he’d found himself at the beach, desperately hoping that the sound of the waves would drown out the voices in his head. 

“Hmm...” was the noncommittal answer. Chris hadn’t expected anyone to be around at this hour and in the poor lighting provided by the overhead streetlights, recognition took a while to come. “Gabriel, sorry,” he apologized -- he was always apologizing. “I didn’t notice you, but yeah, the ocean’s a blessing.” 

[saying]

[chrisxortiz]

jcvxrgxs:

He chuckled “It’s okay man, totally understand, I know how that it, I can forget about eating when I’m in the zone, but just giving you some heads up for when you see her.” Juan loved Chris mom, he figured if his mother was alive, she would probably very much like her and would complain just as much, for the times he would skip a family meal because he was trying to get some work done. “I’m sure that when you finally finish it, it would be totally worth it and it would be great.” Even if he knew that it was all in his publisher’s hands, he still wanted to let Chris know that he would love to be a part of it “Hey, it’s all fine, if not we’ll make something amazing for when it’s out and everyone will want to read it” He smiled. Juan would always be amazed for how great and smart Chris and Carly were, they both could talk about books for hours and even when sometimes he would get lost and just help their mother with the dishes, he would always admire that about them. “Oh I had a date but they moved it, so I need to re-check with them, but once I get the official date you will be one of the first to know.” 

Chris shrugged off Juan’s compliments easily. He’d been praised for his writing since he was child; he was used to it by now, but this was different. This entire project was different, but he doubted that anyone would truly understand the magnitude of it all. “Enough about me. What’s new with you? Besides all of this talk about rescheduled dates, which I hope works out for you, by the way.” 

[hedonist--poet-deactivated20240]

“Your deep blue eyes would mean nothing without your beautiful soul.”

— Hira (via hedonistpoet)

[chrisxortiz]

mscarleighaortiz:

Carly can’t help but chuckle and nod. “He’ll appreciate that. I think he enjoys how paranoid he is and his conspiracies. He does good work though. Pretty skilled coder though ironically not so much a hacker.” She nudges his side softly. “No one can be as smooth as James Bond. He sets the standard. and yeah it is a bit. I mean some hackers are all about the rush of seeing what they can get into, but for others its about exposing those who think they can’t be touched.” 

She smiles and shrugs. “Book club material or not they will all be buying a copy You know how Ma is. She’s just proud of you and so am I. It’s pretty amazing to write a book even more to get it published.” She smiles softly a bit flushed. “It is, I’m just glad he took a chance on me here. It really pushes me to live up to it.”

There was always that one paranoid person, it seemed. Chris had encountered an unnatural number of conspiracy theories during his time working at the paper and not all of them had come from the people he’d interviewed. Some of them had been steadfast beliefs held by his coworkers. “I’m always surprised by the things people are willing to believe.”

“Which one is it for you?” Chris was sure that he already knew the answer. Despite her job as a career, Carly was upstanding and had a fierce moral code. They’d just never really talked about this before; it was just one of those topics – like his time abroad and her health – that they both knew about, where complicit in, but never really discussed; even siblings could have secrets. “It can’t all be about justice. I mean, journalism is about justice for me, but there’s a thrill to it that I would never give up. Not for anything.”

[chrisxortiz]

violettajane:

Violet nodded at his response. He’d already shared much more than he ever had before, and she couldn’t fault him for wanting to keep some things to himself. She’d heard the stories of many of his traumas already, but he’d never had an actual conversation like this with her before. Maybe she needed to try to encourage this kind of conversation with him more often – maybe, if she was able to, he’d feel that she were more trustworthy. “Lacrosse,” she laughed. “I can’t see you playing lacrosse. You look more like a soccer player to me, maybe football.”

When it came to disappointing mothers, Violet knew she could relate, though not on quite the same level as Chris – her job wasn’t life-threatening and she wasn’t ignoring any part of her heritage. Hell, she was white – she didn’t need to embrace her heritage. It wasn’t like anyone was telling her she was less because she was white. She’d been afforded every privilege. “You wanna have children, then? I think I used to want to have them, but…” I’d be just as bad at it as my mother was. “You get older and then you get tired and start to wonder if you’ve even got the time, you know? Or if you’ll ever find someone you want to have babies with.”

“I am a soccer player,” Chris responded with a shrug. “But I’m nowhere near good enough to play professionally.” Soccer was a game that Chris had grown up playing, but he could have never made a career out of it; it was simply a game he’d played with the other neighbor kids. “I mean, I’m nowhere good enough to be a lacrosse player either.” Actually, he was abysmal. He’d learned within the first week of practices that he was not built to be a lacrosse player. He’d hung up his stick and filed the experience under something he would never again attempt. He’d learned a lot about himself during that week, though. Namely that he would go to great lengths for love, something that he still hadn’t outgrown.

Chris rapped his fingers gently against his thigh as he listened to Violetta. The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn. When he’d arrived earlier, he’d mostly been expecting a run of the mill meeting with his editor – one where they discussed the manuscript and writing, but here he was talking about his secret desires. “Do I want to have kids,” he repeated, thoughtful. “Yeah. I always have. Two, maybe three of them. But now I’m not so sure.” It was difficult to think about getting involved in a long term relationship, much less having children after everything he’d been through. He was still plagued with night terrors and he would never want to burden a significant other or children with that. “I’m sure you’ll find your someone, though. Life has a way of being surprising.”

[wordsnquotes]

Almost dead yesterday, maybe dead tomorrow, but alive, gloriously alive, today.

Robert Jordan (via wordsnquotes)

[chrisxortiz]

mscarleighaortiz:

Carleigha’s head shot up the second she heard Christian’s voice. Her face grew red as she heard the murmurs from her coworkers as they also peeked up to see who made noise. She shakes her head and ushers him inside the office so she can close the door. “Only you would walk into a tech company and yell Big Brother’s here.You are going to give Rodger out there a coronary he’s already paranoid enough about the government watching him. I guarantee my next break will be spent explaining to him that you are not a government agent sent here to watch him.”

She chuckles softly and pulls him into a hug. “I am glad to see you though. I hear your book is in the next stages, you know I am dying to read it. Mom has informed her book club that they will be reading it too” She smiles up to him and shakes her head. “I’m not sure you can call me a superhero..my job is to literally try and break through Ronnie’s work. Essentially hacking for a living.”

Chris couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He’d always been curious to know if hackers and techies were as paranoid in real life as they were in the movies. Carly didn’t seem to be paranoid — careful yes, but paranoid? She’d never really spoken of conspiracy theories or government spies, so he’d simply assumed that the movies had exaggerated the level of paranoia, but if the looks the man in front was giving him were anything to go by, there was a grain of truth in Hollywood. “He can go on believing I’m a government spy. I’m cool with that. I’m not nearly as smooth as James Bond but he doesn’t look like the kind of guy that would know that.” Chris chuckled again as he threw one last glance over his shoulder at the man. “Guess journalism and hacking aren’t so different. We’re all trying to bring big brother down.”

Chris allowed himself to be pulled into a hug. Hugging Carly always amused him — she was just so small. “I don’t think the book’s book club material,” he argued. Leave it to his mother to embarrass him like that. “See? That sounds like a great job.”

[chrisxortiz]

@mscarleighaortiz

Now that Chris had submitted the final draft of his manuscript, his days were much less structured. The problem with having free time, though, was that he didn’t know what to do with it. He’d spent so much time sequestered away in his house writing that he couldn’t think of any other way of spending his day. He’d already visited his mother for the week -- she wouldn’t complain if he chose to spend another day with her, he knew -- but he’d give her a break, if just for a few hours. Instead, he’d bother Carly. What kind of big brother would he be if he didn’t visit her at her new job with the intention of embarrassing her? 

“Big brother’s here,” he announced, unceremoniously walking into her office. He’d had so many good days recently that he was waiting for the string of bad days to come, but thinking of them would only keep him from enjoying his good days and that would be a waste. “I want to know everything about this new job. What do you do? How much of a real-life superhero are you?”

[chrisxortiz]

violettajane:

Violet smiled at that. She was enjoying this softer side of Chris, and she sipped her scotch before leaning forward again to rest her chin in her palm. “So you did, then?” she asked. “That’s a story I want to hear.”

She’d been in plenty of bad relationships throughout her life – mostly, she’d been taken advantage of. She came from a known family, and men she’d dated had used her as a way to get a foot in the door before dumping her. One would have thought that she’d have caught on rather quickly, but Violet was simply used to being left behind, so she hadn’t thought too much that the problem could’ve been with the others. She hadn’t had a serious relationship in years – she was too tired, she supposed. All that to say, falling in love in a desert overseas sounded… exhausting. Though, maybe it became easier to connect in those settings. There was less superficiality to worry about.

“I learned Spanish to impress a foreign exchange student from Spain in high school. Had my nanny teach me. Tried to impress him with it, but he just said I was cute and looked like a baby doll. Said I had chubby cheeks. So… backfired, clearly.” After a pause, she returned to their previous topic. “D’you think it makes your mom sad? That her son’s an adrenaline junkie who likes war zones and doesn’t speak Spanish anymore?”

“Perhaps another time.” There were stories of his time abroad that Chris hadn’t shared with anyone and had no intention of ever sharing. Some stories were just too big to share. Chris tapped his fingers against the glass, smiling softly at Violetta’s story. It wasn’t something that was unusual. In fact, he was pretty sure that everyone had, at some point, done something embarrassing to impress a crush. “I once attempted to play lacrosse in high school for a crush. It was definitely the dumbest decision I’ve ever made. That sport wasn’t for people like me.” Looking back, he could laugh at the foolish things he’d done for the sake of love. Even now, he knew he would do foolish things for the sake of love. It was just in his nature.

As the conversation drifted back to more serious things, Chris inhaled once, held the breath, and then exhaled. It was difficult for him to talk about disappointing his parents, especially his mother. She was the most important person in his life and the idea that his decisions could have potentially cost him his life, hurting his mother in a way he’d never intended to, weighed on him heavily. “I’m sure it does,” he answered finally. “She worries about me rushing into war zones, but she would never want me to choose a career simply because it makes her happy. As for Spanish, I think she dreams of sharing the language with my future children.” 

[chrisxortiz]

violettajane:

“Everything about me is fire,” she responded, a mutter into her glass. Violet had been through enough that she’d had to have been tough. She’d lost her protector early on and had learned to pull herself up by her bootstraps, so to speak. She hadn’t had anyone looking out for her, and being small hadn’t ever helped – she’d constantly had to prove herself, repeatedly, even to the same people. She appeared delicate and had made it a mission of hers to not, in any way, be delicate.

Violet had never gotten the impression from Chris that he was a romantic, so she eyed him a bit. His parents had met because of their shared profession, and it begged the following question: “You expecting to meet the woman of your dreams out there in some desert, then?” It was almost teasing, but she was painfully curious to hear his answer. In all honesty, Violet wasn’t even sure if Chris was in a relationship. She was sure that at some point in their working relationship, she’d urged him to go home and be intimate with someone he loved – it was something she advised a lot of writers she knew to do. It helped, sometimes, so she never shied away from suggesting it as a fix for writer’s block or struggling with a certain truth for whatever they were writing.

“A lot of journalists feel a responsibility to help drum up support for the military in times of war,” she responded. “I can’t say I wouldn’t, if that’s what I were. I think some people think that if you get out there and do that kind of reporting, it just seems like you’re trying to shit on your own country and military while they’re at war. Kicking them while they’re down, you know. You clearly don’t feel that way. You’re… loyal to humans, not a country. – Ever feel like it’s harder for you to criticize your country and get away with it because you’re Latino?”

Chris simply smiled at the question. Had he been thinking about love when he’d left the States? Definitely not. If love had been on his mind, he would’ve stayed and poured all of his attention into the relationship he’d only entered a few months before the job had presented itself, but the opportunity had arisen and he hadn’t thought twice about moving himself across the world. Still, love seemed to find Chris where ever he went. He was the sort of man who wore his heart on his sleeve and fell in love as easily as he could pick up his life and start again. “Who says I didn’t? Meet the person of my dreams over there, that is?” 

He didn’t believe in soulmates, didn’t believe that there was one specific person created just for him. His parents had been together for over thirty years and Chris respected that; their paths continued to be intertwined, but he strongly believed that relationships, both platonic and romantic, lasted for as long as they were necessary and then they died. Love, like life, moved in cycles and that was okay. 

“I met amazing people over there. People who just wanted to go back to living their lives. They weren’t monsters. I also met some amazing soldiers over there, some of whom even gave their lives, and I hope that this book honors their stories but I would never be the kind of journalist who presented a skewed perspective. Soldiers should be honored for their service and held accountable when they misuse their power.” He sipped at the scotch as he considered her question. “You mean, is it more difficult for me because I’m not a white man? Yes, and there’s a lot of my culture that I’ve sacrificed. I don’t speak Spanish anymore. At least, not unless I’m around my Ma and even then, only rarely.” It was one of the things that he regretted the most, but it had been one of the decisions Chris had had to make in order to further his career. “For better or worse, I am relatively white passing and blue eyed. So that’s that.” 

[chrisxortiz]

depravedmammals:

“It’s OK to live a life that others don’t understand.”

— Unknown (via quotefeeling)

[chrisxortiz]

violettajane:

Violet didn’t think she’d ever heard Chris laugh like that. He’d always seemed a bit nervous to her, always a bit uncomfortable. She couldn’t help but laugh, too – it was a contagious sound. If she were honest, he was one of her favorite authors that she had worked with lately. She wouldn’t tell him that, but she liked how uncomfortable he seemed. She could tell that writing was cathartic for him after suffering trauma – some authors that she met with simply wrote to be whimsical, and Violet couldn’t find it in herself to work on a manuscript that had no heart. She wasn’t God – she couldn’t give a manuscript a heart if it lacked one. That had to come from the author themselves. That being said, she’d always felt heart in Chris’s work.

She leaned over to pull open a drawer on her desk, from which she produced two glasses and a bottle of scotch. Violet shrugged as she poured her glass. “Sometimes you just need it,” she explained. She pushed an empty glass towards him and set the bottle down within his reach – she didn’t want to force it on him, so she didn’t pour any for him to feel obligated to drink.

“I guess I can’t complain much,” she responded, taking a sip. “I appreciate that you’ve never called me little lady.” Her wrist turned slowly, swirling the amber liquid in a gentle motion as she eyed Chris. “I don’t think I understand why you do it,” she finally spoke up. “You put yourself in the worst of the worst places, in battlefields, far away from anyone you love, and it’s not like you’re a solider. I don’t think it’s patriotism. So what is it?”

At the sight of the scotch, Chris’s eyebrow rose. He had not been expecting that, but it did seem to fit the informal feeling of their meeting. “Goodness, I would never call you little lady. My sister’s about your height and I can just imagine how much she’d hate me if I ever called her that so I’d never do it to you. Plus, I’m starting to feel as if all short women have fire in their veins. I’m too smart to mess with that.” He smiled as he picked up the scotch bottle and poured some of it into the glass she’d provided. 

He was doing well kicking his smoking habit ever since giving it up for Lent (maybe there was some sort of divine intervention involved), but he still took a drink every now and then. After all, Chris wasn’t a saint, and he didn’t make a habit out of lying about that. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

Chris smiled. His choice to become a war correspondent wasn’t one that was easily understood. Even his parents, both journalists in their own right, hadn’t understood why he’d chosen that career path. “It’s got nothing to do with patriotism, I assure you.” Chris wasn’t patriotic in the least. He was grateful for the opportunities he’d been afforded having lived in the United States for the majority of his life, but he didn’t feel obliged to the country enough to give his life for it. “Journalism’s in my blood. Both of my parents are now retired journalists. It’s how they met. I considered going the investigative route. For a few years, at the beginning of my career, that’s what I did. I wrote some pieces on gang activity, met with a few whistleblowers, but nothing that would get me a Pulitzer. Not that that’s what this is about.” 

Chris wasn’t usually one to talk about himself -- he found it difficult to explain his motivations in a way that didn’t seem reckless. “Then I stumbled on this. As much as we’d like to believe that our media isn’t biased, it’s a lie. Journalism is incredibly skewed, especially when it comes to wartime reporting. Americans can’t understand what war’s like because we’ve never actually seen or lived through it. I wanted to get to know the other side, to give those people a voice and a name so that they were more than statistics and monsters. It’s not all noble, though. I’m no saint. I’m just an adrenaline junkie and have a tendency to find myself in dangerous situations.” 

[chrisxortiz]

violettajane:

“To be clear, if you ever write something as cliche as ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ in a book, I will hit you with it,” Violet warned, holding up a finger. Christian continued on, and she listened again. She understood what he was saying – she’d been impressed with his ability to write his pain since she’d met him. Men tended to mask it, hide it, make it seem okay, but what she’d read from him had been unbridled.

She looked down at the manuscript next to her and took a deep breath, pressing her lips together. “I know you’re hesitant, but… I appreciate that you keep coming back. I mean, all the things I’ve said and we’ve worked on, yet you keep handing it back to me. That means something to me. You’re letting me help you and you’ve taken my advice. As far as I know, you didn’t go home and cry after I gave it back to you the first time. At least I hope you didn’t.” Violet laughed gently and then pushed her fingers through her hair.

“There’s a lot of pain in there.” She nodded toward the manuscript, then made eye contact with Chris. “I’m not really much of an empath. I kinda shut that part off as much as I could, you know? I read a lot of people’s pain. And I… love books. I know that happy fiction stories are hiding immense pain, and I don’t think I could cope. So I try not to relate too much.” Her head shook gently at his question. “No, Mr. Ortiz,” she answered, hoping that he’d realize how awkward it felt to be called by such a formal greeting. “I’m not creative enough to do it myself. Plus, I’m too stubborn.”

Chris laughed at that, a loud booming sound that came from deep in his belly. “If I ever wrote something that cliche I’d do you the favor and hit myself.” He’d been writing so long, had been surrounded by writers for so long, that he would be incredibly disappointed in himself if he ever produced something that could be classified as cliche. He felt secondhand embarrassment for writers who did it, he couldn’t even imagine how he’d feel if he put himself into that bucket or how disappointed his parents would be. 

“Hmm... pain is part of my job. I used to be a war correspondent. You can’t imagine the amount of pain I’ve seen and had to synthesize. It makes closing your eyes difficult sometimes.” It was a more honest statement that he would have usually made, but Violet had already read his pain on those pages. “I’m not offended by your edits, believe me. If I was offended every time an editor did their job, I wouldn’t have survived this long. Journalism’s a bit more cutthroat than you’d imagine.” 

Chris smiled when she referred to him as Mr. Ortiz. He realized how awkward the formality must have felt, and she had told him to call her Violet, but he didn’t feel that that was appropriate. “You have the power in this relationship, Ms. Reeves. I apologize if that makes you feel awkward, but I was raised to respect power. Guess I’m stubborn too.”

[chrisxortiz]

violettajane:

Violet made a point to cradle the manuscript just as gently as he had once it was in her hands. She set it down gently next to her and patted it tenderly, assuring him – albeit in a teasing way – that he could trust her with it, that she’d be gentle, too. Violet was capable of being gentle – sometimes. Her job was to be blunt, and she often thought that people tended to harp on that. Sure, she had to be blunt and to the point, but did they forget the fact that she loved books? She loved books more than the average person, and she couldn’t even begin to explain how thrilled she felt knowing that she got to see the first copies, the second edit, the third, etc. Violet got to experience worlds long before the general public consumed them – if they ever did.

“How so?” Violet asked, leaning forward and cupping her chin in her hand. She’d dealt with a fair amount of authors struggling with writers’ block, and when they struggled, sometimes the easiest things pulled them out of it. She knew that Chris had had a hard time with it, and hoped that maybe having a conversation about it might pull something out of him. Plus, she hadn’t missed that he’d chosen not to answer whether or not he trusted her – and she wanted to work on that.

Life in Westwick. What life? “Haven’t had much of one yet,” she answered, shrugging. “Moving… throws me off my groove. I’ve been settling back into it for now. I’ve been working a lot, so… haven’t seen much of anything yet, but I’ll get there. The beach, though– that’s nice. I’ve missed California.”

Was there a polite way to explain away trust issues, especially when they had nothing to do with the person in question? Chris wasn’t entirely too certain. “It’s not you, it’s me,” Chris began, the cliche phrase bringing a slightly sardonic smile to his lips. “This isn’t just some book I’ve written. It isn’t like creating Narnia or Hogwarts or Fillory.” They were all fine universes and he sometimes wished he was capable of creating something that long lasting, but he’d never really been gifted in the art of fiction. Nonfiction was simple; it was all about the facts. Fiction, though, was a different creature altogether. It required that you tap into the story that lived inside of you.

Christian felt as if this book had been a mixture of both. There had been moments during the writing process when he had felt as if the events -- true as they may have been -- had happened to someone else. “I’ve lived through these events,” he continued to explain. “There are things in there that I haven’t ever said aloud and now I’m trusting you and the entire world with those secrets. You’ll have to forgive me for being hesitant.” The only person that knew the extent of his experiences overseas was Shea, but even she didn’t know all of the details in their entirety. Chris could only imagine how his mother would react when she read all that he’d written in that book, but had never been able to say to her. 

“It’s just raw, you know?” Chris shrugged, not entirely sure that he’d done a good job of explaining himself. “Have you ever written a book, Ms Reeves, or has editing always been your dream?” Was the too personal a question? “I understand. I moved around a lot for work. Granted, I never really stayed in any one place for too long. Westwick’s always been home. It’s a special place. It may not seem like it, but there’s a lot to see here.”