Page 3 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

My lips twitched as I thanked Joan before following my brother up the stairs. “Maybe. Books are essential.”

“You could’ve just asked Santa for a Kindle, you know.”

“Blasphemy,” I deadpanned.

Tommy chuckled as he led the way to a door near the end of the hall. Pulling the brass key from the pocket of my hoodie, I unlocked it and stepped inside.

The room was just as I remembered it from last year: warm, cozy, and charmingly outdated. The quilted bedspread looked handmade, its soft reds and greens giving it a holiday feel without being overbearing. Antique furniture—a tall dresser, a vanity, and an old rocking chair in the corner—added to the room’s rustic charm. I walked to the window and pushed back the lace curtain, revealing a view of the snowy streets below.

“Same room as last year,” I said quietly, almost to myself. “No getting trapped in here during a scary snowstorm this time, I hope.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not.”

“Or a stalker,” I added. “Not that he was stalkingme,of course.”

Tommy winced as he set my suitcases on the bench at the end of the bed.

“Sorry, that was insensitive,” I said, eyeing him. “How are you and Grace doing after all that?”

He shrugged, his eyes shuttering. “She’s strong. I still wanna punch something every time I think about it. I hate that I didn’t see it coming. Even let my sister date him.”

At this—and his pointed look—I had to chuckle. “Right, right. Because you’re so good at controlling who I date?”

“I’ll always want to protect you, Fi. Whether you like it or not.”

Emotion clogged my throat, and I tried to crack another smile. “I sure know how to pick ’em, huh?”

I meant it as a joke, but it fell flat.

Thankfully, Tommy didn’t leave me hanging, chuckling darkly. “You’re a magnet for trouble. Always have been.”

He wasn’t wrong. But this time, it would be different. This time, I’d left trouble behind, and I wasn’t about to let it catch up to me again.

“You would know, as the guy who spends his days arresting half the trouble in town.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” he replied with a wink.

“Modest as ever.”

Tommy ruffled my hair playfully on his way to the door. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner later?”

“Yes, please.”

“Cool. Holler if you need anything.”

I nodded. “Thanks, Tommy.”

Alone at last, I sat on the edge of the bed, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. As I looked around my home for the next month, my gaze lingered on the dresser and the lamp glowing softly on top of it. I stared, but I wasn’t really seeing anything. My mind was back in Philadelphia, remembering the drama I’d left behind—the lies, the mess, the regrets that still clung to me like smoke.

It sullied the festive room, and I didn’t like it.

Pushing to my feet, I walked back to the window. Snowflakes drifted lazily in the air, and the ones that didn’t disappear landed softly on the streets below. They melted immediately, though, and I wondered if the snow would start sticking soon or if the streets would stay sludgy for the remainder of my trip. The snow was pretty as it fell, but it sure did make a mess when it hit the ground.

Like me and my life right now—caught somewhere between fragile beauty and a muddy, slushy reality.

Merry Christmas.

CHAPTER 2

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