Page 20 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

Trying to shake it off, I knocked on her door, my knuckles hitting the wood harder than I meant to. I shifted my weight, glancing down the hall again. Then I let out a breath, telling myself I wasn’t crossing a line by showing up like this.

The muffled sound of footsteps approached from the other side of the door, followed by a pause. I thought I caught the faintest intake of breath, and then Sofia’s voice called out a shaky, “Who is it?”

Too bad these old-fashioned doors didn’t have peepholes. I hated the idea of causing Sofia any more unease after whatever I’d witnessed at the cafe this morning. If I’d had her phone number, I would’ve texted her with a heads-up.

“It’s Hudson,” I replied.

I’d needed to make sure she was okay. I’d been thinking about her nonstop since I walked out of the coffee shop, and nomatter what I did, I hadn’t been able to banish the image of all that worry etched into her face.

Especially after spending the afternoon with Ida. Earlier, when she’d texted me to come down to the coffee shop because Sofia was there, I’d come, solely for the purpose of telling Ida to her face that I had no intentions of starting something with Sofia when I’m planning on leaving after Christmas.

And yes, I knew I didn’t have to tell my aunt that news to her face when it could’ve been in a text, but that was my story and I was sticking to it. The alternative meant admitting that I’d wanted to see Sofia again.

I just hadn’t imagined walking up to such a strange scene when I did.

The door opened a crack, and Sofia’s dark eyes peeked out. “What are you doing here?”

“I got lost on the way to my room,” I said lightly, letting the corner of my mouth tilt up. “Can I come in?”

Sofia hesitated, her gaze flicking down the hall and then back to my face. She stepped back, but not far enough to fully relax. Her hand lingered on the doorknob, her eyes flicking to the hallway as if expecting someone—or something—to appear.

Finally, she opened the door all the way. “Okay. Sure.”

I stepped inside, and the door clicked shut behind me. The room was similar to mine. It was small but cozy, with a quilted bedspread and antique furniture that gave it a lived-in charm. But the decorations were different, more feminine than the patterns on my walls and curtains.

My eyes strayed to the desk near the window, catching sight of a familiar envelope with a candy cane stamp. The letter itself was next to it, folded neatly, and I was instantly curious. It wasn’t that I wanted to read the letters from Sofia’s pen pal—I had my own, and I liked her a lot.

No, this curiosity stemmed from wanting to read whatever Sofia wrote in response.

“So…” Sofia started, crossing her arms and leaning against the dresser. Then, her eyes darted to a slightly open drawer, and she used her elbow to knock it closed. “What’s up?”

I hadn’t missed the way her eyes had bulged as she’d shut the drawer. Was there something inside she hadn’t wanted me to see?

“I wanted to check on you,” I said, meeting her gaze. “After earlier. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk about whatever that was.”

She stiffened slightly but didn’t look away. “It was nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought she might snap at me. Instead, she let out a long sigh, her arms falling to her sides. “Fine. It wasn’t nothing. But I don’t need to talk about it or anything.”

“I’m a pretty good listener.”

I wasn’t even sure why I cared. I hardly knew this woman, and yet, there was something about her that made me want to be there for her. It was laughable to think of it as something so intense that I’d vow to slay dragons for her, but… I probably would if she asked me to. Maybe even if she didn’t.

Then again, this concern might not be entirely because of Sofia. It could be thanks to growing up watching Ida take care of everyone around her, always putting herself last. I’d seen how people took advantage of that kind of kindness, and it made me twitchy when I saw someone trying to carry the world alone.

Sofia pushed off the dresser and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, her fingers knotting in her lap. “His name is Dane, and he’s my ex that I told you about the night we met. But something tells me you’ve already heard that from other people, too.”

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, but I didn’t confirm or deny.

She glanced up, and judging by her expression, she got the message. “Small towns, huh?”

“I take it you weren’t expecting him to show up here?”

Her eyes went dark with something that looked like regret. “Nope. And I thought leaving Philly would mean leaving him behind for good, but I guess not.”

I stayed where I was, giving her space. I’d learned to read people long before I’d put on a uniform, but the Marines had sharpened those instincts into a skill I used daily. Every glance or shift in body language told a story, and right now, Sofia’s was written in the tight line of her shoulders and the clear hesitation in her eyes.

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