Page 61 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

“But you would have said something once you knew for sure, right? You weren’t going to keep pretending?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I said, taking her hand.

Her gaze softened, but the tension in her posture didn’t ease. “This is… a lot to process.”

“I know.”

“And it also doesn’t make sense. You’re so… different.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“My pen pal… He’s—well,youwere so funny.”

Blinking down at her, I shifted on my feet. “I’m sorry. Are you saying I’m not funny?”

“Well, apparently, I’m saying you’re only funnyon paper,” she replied, a ghost of a smile flitting over her lips. But then she shook out her hands, groaning as the humor in her eyes bled into that fear I hated so much. “Sorry, I’m just… processing. I’m surprised it’s you. Theyouin front of me is a lot different than the guy I exchanged letters with. But… that’s clearly something we can unpack later. When I can think straight, and I’m not completely freaking out.”

I squeezed her hand as I took a step closer. “I need you to trust me. Whoever left that letter is trying to scare you, but you don’t have to let him. I’m here.”

She looked at me for a long moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I echoed, the weight on my shoulders easing just slightly.

“I feel silly asking this, but when we talked about liking our pen pals…” Her head tilted slightly. “I don’t know what I’m asking. But the letters—they meant something to you, right?”

“Of course they did. They were this… bright spot. Something I looked forward to every day. And meetingyou—getting to know you in person—” I paused, taking a breath. “Sofia, I’m happy it was you I was writing to.”

She exhaled sharply. “I should’ve known. There were moments when it felt like I did, but then I told myself to drop it. I didn’t want to ruin anything by knowing for sure.”

“Nothing is getting ruined here,” I all but growled. I wasn’t sure where that intensity had come from, but hopefully, she wouldn’t hold it against me. “Look, I don’t like that either one of us found out like this, but I’m glad we know now.”

“Me too,” she agreed. “I just can’t believe we’ve been getting to know each other twice like this. Once in letters and once in real life.”

“And in both cases,” I said, closing the distance between us until she was a breath away, “I fell for you.”

Her breath hitched in surprise, and maybe like she wasn’t sure she’d heard me right. “You did?”

I reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers lingered, brushing against her skin as her gaze locked onto mine. “I know this is a lot, and I know things aren’t exactly good right now. But Ida always taught me to find some bright side to every situation, and as dark as this one is, what I feel for you is definitely bright enough to fight it. Andwin.”

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, and for a moment she just blinked up at me, her eyes a mix of wonder and disbelief.

I held my breath as I waited for her to respond, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Then she shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips, light and almost shy. “Wow. No wonder I liked you in your letters.”

That laugh was my undoing. My lips curved in response, and I inched closer, narrowing the space between us. Her eyes searched mine, and slowly, I leaned down, giving her every opportunity to pull away.

She didn’t retreat. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut, and when her mouth parted ever so slightly as she angled her lips toward mine, it was all the invitation I needed.

The first tentative, testing kiss made me shudder, and when she leaned into me, her arms looping around my neck, I let go of the restraint I’d been holding onto. My hands found her waist, my fingers pressing into the curve of her hips, pulling her closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left between us.

As the kiss deepened, everything else—the lingering fears, the chaos, even knowing there was more still looming over us—faded into the background. All I could focus on was her. I reveled in the warmth of her skin, the way her lips moved with mine, the soft hum in the back of her throat that nearly brought me to my knees.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, anchoring me in a way nothing else ever had. She tasted like peppermint, fresh and cool, and I drowned myself in her scent—something faintly floral and undeniably sweet. Time seemed to bend and fold, every space between heartbeats too quick and also went on forever.

When we finally broke apart, it was only because neither of us had remembered to breathe.

I rested my forehead against hers, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Her hands stayed on me, but she dragged them down, her fingers splaying across my chest like she wasn’t ready to let go yet.

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