Page 37 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just curious. You seemed so against the idea at first, but now… well, you sure do manage to get a letter out every day, now don’t you?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with something to deflect. But the truth was, she wasn’t wrong. I’d been writing every day—more than that, really. I’d started carrying paper with me everywhere, jotting down thoughts and questions as they came to me, so I’d be ready when it was time to write back. How could I not? This woman’s letters had this way of cutting through the noise in my head, offering something simple and grounding that I craved.

But admitting that to Ida felt like walking into a trap.

“They’re good letters,” I said cautiously.

Ida’s eyes sparkled. “Good enough to make you wonder if your pen pal is more than just some stranger with nice handwriting?”

I snorted. “Okay, let’s be real. How heavy is the matchmaking angle with these letters?”

Her mouth curved into a smile that wasn’t quite a denial. “Hudson Green, what makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“Because you’re you,” I said flatly. “And you’ve never been subtle about wanting me—and everyone else in this town—to find someone. You’ve always been straight with me. Is this one of your schemes?”

“Schemes?” she echoed, pretending to be offended for a beat before sighing with a short laugh. “Is it really so bad for me to want you to fall in love with someone wonderful? Someone local? Someone who might make it easier for me to see you more than once every few years?”

I let out a breath and leaned back in my chair. “I get all that, but it’s not that simple.”

“Would it feel that complicated if I told you how gorgeous and kind and smart your pen pal is?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Because she is, you know.”

“I can tell that from her letters,” I said quietly, though I wasn’t even sure how it was possible to know that she was gorgeous from her handwriting alone. Maybe it was the smile I could read in her words, and somehow I knew it was a pretty one. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

Ida’s smile widened. “Well, then. Sounds like you don’t need me to do much else. My plan’s working just fine.”

I shook my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “Did it ever occur to you that my pen pal might not want to be matched up with someone who’s leaving town and about to be extremely busy with work? Now I kind of feel bad for her.”

Ida tilted her head, her smile relaxing into something gentler. “You know, you’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Always looking out for everyone else. Even when you were a kid, you’d go out of your way to make sure everyone else was okay before you even thought about yourself. It’s a wonderful thing, Hudson—one of my favorite things about you. But you deserve someone who’ll look out for you, too.”

“Ida…” I groaned, running a hand over my face. Didn’t she get that if anyone was to blame for that, it was her? She modeled that kind of thing perfectly.

She shrugged, clearly unfazed. “I’m just saying, if you let yourself really open up to the right person, you might be surprised by how good it feels to be the one taken care of for a change.”

Her words lingered as I took another sip of coffee, staring out the kitchen window at the snowy backyard. Taking care of people was second nature to me. It always had been. After learning how it felt to be taken care of by Ida, I’d spent years putting my unit, my family, everyone else first—and now, somehow, that instinct had kicked in with Sofia.

Even though she wasn’t making it easy.

I thought about the way she’d stiffened when Dane showed up at The Hearthstone, her spine straight but her eyes weary. She didn’t want my help, not really. She didn’t want anyone’s. But that didn’t stop me from wanting to give it.

But then there was my pen pal.

She was taking care of me without even knowing it, giving me something I hadn’t realized I needed until those first few letters started arriving. In yesterday’s letter, she’d told me about how much fun she’d been having participating in the town’s Christmas traditions this season, and her enthusiasm practically jumped off the page. It reminded me of why I’d always liked this time of year, even if I hadn’t had much chance to enjoy it for years. More disconcerting, however, was the amount of hope it filled me with.

Ida’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Hudson?”

I blinked, turning back to her. She was watching me with that knowing look of hers, like she could read every thought that had just passed through my head.

She tilted her head, watching me carefully. “Do you want to know who she is?”

The question hit me harder than it should have. Did I want to know? My immediate instinct was yes. I’d been trying to picture her as I read each letter, wondering who she was, what she looked like, if she smiled as much in real life as her words made me think she might.

But then my mind flashed to Sofia.

The idea of knowing my pen pal’s identity and trying to build something with her while Sofia was right there, close enough to reach but still so untouchable, felt impossible.

---