Page 15 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

My entire body stiffened, my fingers tightened around the warm cup.

Dane.

It had only been a few weeks since I’d last seen him, but his scruff was longer and his tousled brown hair looked a little messier than I was used to. Almost like he’d been raking his fingers through it. That wasn’t normal for Dane. He was one of those guys who had to put some work in to achieve that disheveled bad boy look, but this was different—like he wasn’t making an effort with his appearance at all.

I watched as Dane scanned the room, and when he found me, and my stomach churned.

This wasnothappening.

Grace followed my gaze, turning back to me with narrowed eyes. “Friend of yours?"

"Not exactly," I muttered. I tried to school my features into something neutral while I watched, frozen, as my ex strode toward our table.

"Sofia," he said, stopping a foot away. His voice was soft, but there was a slight edge to it. "We need to talk."

Grace’s eyes flicked between us, her lips pressing into a thin line.

I sighed, rubbing my temple before looking at Grace. “Sorry, can you give us just a minute?”

Grace looked like she was going to refuse, but something in my expression must have assured her it was all right to go. She nodded once before rising from her chair and walking to the counter. She wouldn’t go far.

"What are you doing here?" I asked Dane. My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care.

"I came for you," he replied, his dark eyes earnest. "I need you to hear me out. I’ve made mistakes—a lot of them. But I’m trying to change, Sof. For you."

I inhaled sharply, anger bubbling to the surface. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to show up and act like everything’s fixable."

"I’m not," he said. He leaned closer, his voice lower… more insistent. “I get that what I’ve done isn’t fixable, but let’s start fresh. I won’t do stuff that needs fixing from now on.”

“Dane—”

“I’m asking for a second chance,” he cut in.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Really? I’ve given you so many chances I’ve lost count.”

“What’s one more?” he asked, reaching out to trail a finger along my cheek.

I knew exactly what he was doing. It wasn’t cruel or manipulative, this change of his demeanor. It was just… Dane. We’d always been able to joke around to lighten the mood, using physical touch to remind us of our connection. It used to be something I loved about him—about us.

But right now, joking about me giving him one more chance fell about as flat as the flat whites they served at the cafe.

“That’s not funny,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on his so he knew I meant it. “Every time I give you another chance, you let me down.”

"I know," he said quickly. "I know I messed up, but I’m not the same guy I was before. I’ve changed. I swear I have."

"And you think following me here is going to prove that?" I asked, my voice rising slightly. Several heads turned, and I felt a blush creep up my neck.

Another scene.Lovely.

But I couldn’t help the outburst. If I had a dollar for every time Dane had sworn he’d changed, I could buy one of the gorgeous Victorian houses that faced Main Street and retire in Snow Hill tomorrow. It wasn’t fair for him to follow me here—to this place that was supposed to be a sanctuary after my embarrassing exit from Philly—and act like he wasn’t simply doing more of the same.

Dane started to reply, but movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned my head just as the bell jingled again, and this time, my brows rose for a different reason.

This time, it was Hudson entering the chat.

Andmy, oh my,my body’s reaction to his entrance was a heck of a lot different than when Dane had.

Hudson stepped inside, a gust of cold air swirling in behind him. The room shrank right away thanks his overall presence—not to mention his broad shoulders and tall frame. But there wassomething else about the way he carried himself that had my breath leaving in whoosh.

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