Page 63 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

I looked down at the book in my lap, realizing for the fourth time that I’d lost the plot. I sighed and gave up, letting my gaze wander back to the snow-covered world outside. The soft crackle of the fire was the only sound in the library, and I was just about to force myself to actually read again when the door creaked open.

I glanced up as Hudson walked in, wheeling a suitcase behind him. It was a plain black one, but the absurdly oversized red bow tied to the handle made me burst out laughing.

“What is that?” I asked, shutting my book and sitting up straighter.

He grinned, stopping just a few feet from my chair. “A gift.”

“You do know it’s not Christmas yet, right?”

“It’s four days away,” he said, shrugging as his lips quirked up and to the side.

“That’s my point.”

“Well, I couldn’t wait.” He gave the suitcase a little spin for emphasis. “And you’re going to want this now anyway.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s a suitcase. Where am I going? You ready to send me packing already?”

It was meant to be a joke, but my stomach flipped. He was starting his new job in January, and I knew he’d been looking for a place to live in Harrisburg. Had he found one? Was he leaving? And if so, did that mean he’d gotten me a new suitcase because it was time for me to pack up and head to Tommy and Grace’s like I’d planned?

He rolled his eyes, stepping toward my chair with the suitcase in tow. Then he bent, placing a hand at the back of my neck before searing me with a brief, fiery kiss. “You’re not going anywhere. It’s what’sinthe suitcase that matters.”

“Ohhh,” I said, drawing out the word as he straightened. “Had me worried there for a second.”

“Open it.”

I climbed out of the chair and knelt next to the suitcase, giving him a skeptical look. “You’re really bad at this whole ‘waiting until Christmas’ thing.”

“And you’re stalling.” He nodded toward the zipper. “Go ahead.”

Shaking my head with mock exasperation, I tugged at the zipper. I had a feeling I already knew what it was, but that didn’t stop my heart from skipping a beat as I opened it. The suitcase was packed—stuffed—with books. Some had shiny new covers,their spines unbroken, while others had the familiar worn look of well-loved paperbacks.

I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. “Hudson…”

“I wrote down which ones were ruined in the break-in before I threw them away,” he said, his voice tender now. “I replaced as many as I could. The rest…” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “Well, I figured I’d try my luck with some new ones I thought you might like. The woman at the bookstore helped.”

I reached for one of the replacements—a copy of a coffee-themed cozy mystery with a dog on the cover that I’d reread at least a dozen times before it was destroyed.

My eyes stung, and I quickly blinked away the threat of tears. “This is… Hudson, this is amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

“‘Thank you’ is fine,” he teased, but there was a flicker of relief in his smile, like he hadn’t been sure how I’d react and was grateful that I seemed to like his gift.

“Thank you,” I said, and then, without warning, I launched myself at him. His arms caught me mid-air as I wrapped my legs around his waist, burying my face in his neck. “You’re the best. You know that, right? The actual best. Full stop.”

He chuckled, his hands steadying me as I kissed his cheek. Then the other one. Then, finally, his lips. It was loud and enthusiastic, and I loved that it made him laugh.

That was another thing that had changed over the last two weeks. The discovery that we were each other’s pen pals seemed to bring both sides of our relationship to the forefront. We still had our quiet, emotional intensity… but we laughed so much more. Teased, joked, and used that lightness between us to banish the dark whenever it tried to creep in.

“Good to know I earned some brownie points,” he said, his voice rumbling against me as he set me down gently. “Though I don’t think that counts as a proper thank-you.”

I smirked up at him. “Oh, it doesn’t?”

“Not until you agree to sit and read one of those with me.”

“Marines can read?” I asked, feigning surprise. “Tommy always said they couldn’t.”

He lunged for me, and I squealed as I attempted to dodge his grasp. But I wasn’t fast enough, and when he caught me around the waist, he nipped playfully at my neck. “Excuse me, but you’re mine now. You can’t throw insults from your soldier brother at me. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

I giggled, settling into his arms. “Fine. But you’ll have to teach me some of the stuff Marines say about the army, then, so I have some ammo.”

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