Page 11 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

"I see… And what exactly does a Marine look like?"

She blushed. "You."

I had no idea what to say to that, but one thing trumped everything else as her earlier words sunk in. "You’re Tommy's sister. Sofia, right?"

Her mouth opened slightly, and then she let out a whisper of a laugh. "Let me guess—he's already warned you to stay far, far away?"

"Should he?"

"Didn't he?"

I wordlessly shook my head, smiling at her surprise.

"Huh. I don't normally come up without him mentioning I'm a trouble magnet."

"Oh, he definitely mentioned that.Verbatim," I allowed, and when Sofia tilted her head in confusion, I went on. "Just because he said you were a magnet for trouble doesn't mean he warned me away from you. Or that I'd listen, even if he had.”

Sofia blushed harder now, and I realized I had a new mission in life: Make that pop of pink show up on Sofia Sullivan's face as often as humanly possible, or die trying.

"Is he that protective of you?" I asked. "Takes the big brother thing to the extreme?"

"Actually, he's my baby brother, but you wouldn't know it from looking at us. He's got three older sisters, and he towers over us all. We think he might have been switched at birth, and our real brother was short like the rest of us. Either way, we do our fair share of protective older sister stuff, but he’s definitely protective like a big brother would be, too. So I guess we’re all just a bunch of bullies, now that I think about it.”

I smiled but didn’t reply. I enjoyed listening to her talk, but more than that, I wasn’t sure what I could add. I had a vague knowledge of what protective siblings would dotoandforeach other… but no personal experience.

"Do you have any siblings?" she asked, almost as if she could read my thoughts.

"Nope. It's just me.” I hated that I felt a pang of envy… a sort of longing for the kind of family I’d never had.

Well, not until the military, anyway. At least the friends I made there became my family when it counted. But there was just something about the lifetime of memories that must have caused the fondness in Sofia's voice. It was a warmth that spoke of an unshakable bond between blood siblings that I’d never known.

Despite that, however, we lapsed into a comfortable silence as we both stared at the fire. It felt natural to sit here with her. It was like we’d slipped into a routine that had existed long before this moment, long before we’d met the night before.

"What were you reading when I came in?" Sofia asked, tipping her chin toward the pocket where I’d stashed my pen pal's letter.

I fished it out, only slightly embarrassed. "Oh, ya know, just my attempt at being a good nephew."

"Is that one of the pen pal letters?"

I nodded. Participants were instructed to put their notes in envelopes with their own name on the outside so Ida and Joan would know who to deliver them to, but then they would swap out the envelopes to maintain the secrecy. And as such, once delivered, all of the letters were enclosed in the same cream-colored envelope with red writing.

It seemed like a heck of a lot of pointless work to me, but if it made my aunt and Joan happy, I couldn’t really judge them for it.

Sofia reached into the front pocket of her black hoodie, pulling out a matching envelope and wiggling it with a small smile.

“You too? My aunt signed me up," I admitted. "Withoutpermission."

Sofia grinned. "I feel like I signed up just to prove a point and not because I actually wanted to, so I guess we're in similar boats, huh?"

"Both here under duress. I'll show you mine if you show me yours," I suggested with a wag of my brows.

Sofia's head dropped back as she cackled, and the sound lit me up from the inside out. Yet another mission: make her laugh like that as often as she blushed. That sound held everything I’d wanted to come here to feel—free, happy, unburdened—and I wanted to hear it again and again.

"Nice try," she said, "but that feels like cheating. Besides, I haven't read my letter yet, and what if my pen pal is way cooler than yours, and I just give him or her away without ever knowing that?"

"Tragedy, for sure. But I will admit, I already like whoever mine is. I like the way she writes. It's honest and funny and real. I think I’ll keep her.”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

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