Page 12 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

I shrugged. “Maybe I’m good at reading people, too,” I said, repeating her words from Friday night.

"Now you're just making me even more curious to read mine."

I held out a hand. "Don't let me stop you."

In another show of unexpected ease between us, we each focused our attention on our letters.

Itching for clues as to who my mystery pen pal was, I scanned the letter to see if I could figure anything out. I was sure the handwriting I’d admired looked distinctly feminine. But who was she? There were no other clues in her words.

But the better question was, why did I enjoy her writing voice more and more with each time my eyes scanned the page?

I looked up to see if Sofia was as intrigued by her letter as I was by mine, noting the way her brow furrowed slightly asher eyes moved over the words. I watched her, transfixed by the way the firelight played across her features. Her full lips moved slightly as she read, and my own letter was quickly forgotten.

As if sensing my gaze, Sofia looked up, her dark eyes ensnaring mine.

For a long moment, we simply stared at each other. But then the fire chose that moment to pop, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney and breaking our staring contest. We both jumped slightly, then smiled as we settled back in our chairs and refocused on our letters.

But the quiet pull of her presence lingered at the edge of my thoughts, making it impossible to concentrate on anything but her.

"How's your letter?" I asked, folding mine and tucking it back into the envelope.

"Thoughtful, but funny,” she replied. "It feels like whoever it is has a lot on their mind but they’re really good at looking at the bright side.”

I nodded, glancing toward the fire. "I wonder if writing to a stranger is easier or harder than writing to someone you know."

Sofia snorted. "I’m not sure, but writing my letter was a lot more fun than my past letter-writing experience. So, maybe it depends on the circumstances. I’m definitely not a fan of love letters anymore, so hopefully, that’s not what this whole secret pen pal thing is supposed to turn into.”

I chuckled, but I couldn't ignore the pang of curiosity—and maybe protectiveness—that her words stirred within me. I knew why I was done with love letters, but what happened to make her feel the same way? And why did I have the sudden urge to track down whoever had clearly hurt her?

I pushed those thoughts aside, uncomfortable with the fact that I’d even had them. I didn’t even know this woman.

“Sounds like you know Joan and Ida fairly well if you’re already trying to figure out their motives,” I said.

“I don’t know themsuperwell, but I know enough to watch my back when they’re up to something.”

I grinned. “Well, we’re on the hook now, so watch out.”

Sofia met my gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in her dark eyes. “Why do you think your aunt signed you up for this?"

"Who knows, with her? She’s great at meddling in general. Maybe she thinks it'll be good for me to connect with someone new, especially after..." I trailed off, the words sticking in my throat.

Sofia's expression softened. "After what?"

I hesitated, but something about the way she looked at me, without judgment or pity, made me want to open up. She’d opened up to me at the bar, after all. Sure, I could’ve told her about the first and only woman I’d ever loved breaking my heart in a letter, but that would be the easy way out. I wasn’t one for taking those, so instead, I said the harder thing. "After I lost someone. My best friend. We served together."

"I'm so sorry, Hudson." Sofia reached across the space between us, placing her hand on my arm. Her touch was warm, comforting. "I can't imagine how hard that must be, but I’ve heard this place has a way of helping people heal."

I looked down at her hand, then back up at her face. Her touch lingered, the simple contact sending a ripple of warmth through my body. I found myself leaning into it, craving the comfort and connection she offered so freely.

“I hope it helps you, too” I said.

Sofia smiled, giving my arm a gentle squeeze before withdrawing her hand.

I immediately missed her touch.

"So, are you going to write back to your pen pal?" she asked, steering the conversation to lighter territory.

“Yeah, you?”

---