Page 44 of A Pen Pal for Christmas

“Yeah,” I said slowly, trying to piece together where she was going with that.

“I don’t think I want to be in pajamas when they get here,” she said quietly, her voice steady but low. “It feels too…”

As she let the sentence hang, I nodded and ran my hand through my hair. I should’ve thought of that. “You’re right,” I said. “That’s on me. Good call.”

She nodded but didn’t move, and I could see her fingers twitching against the fabric of her sleeves. My instincts told me to reach for her again, to offer some kind of physical comfort, but I held back. I wasn’t sure what she needed, but until I was sure it was that, I wouldn’t overstep.

Instead, I gestured toward the bed. “Sit. Take a minute to breathe.”

To my relief, she didn’t argue. She sank down onto the edge of the mattress, her hands clasped tightly to the edge on either side of her thighs. I sat in the desk chair, giving her space but staying close enough that she could see I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Sofia,” I said after a beat of silence. “I know this isn’t easy. But if you’re up for it, can you tell me more about… the letter? What it means to you? Why he might’ve left that behind?”

Her fingers twisted tighter, and for a moment, I thought she might shut me down completely. But then she let out a long, shaky breath and looked at me. Her eyes were glassy, but she was holding herself together.

I stayed quiet, letting her find her words.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she let out a bitter laugh. “You know, I really thought those letters would help him have hope while he was locked up. And his replies to me made me think it was working. One time, his cellmate even sent me a letter, simply to tell me how good Dane was doing and that I’d be proud of him when he got released.”

I wrinkled my nose, already knowing that wouldn’t be the case.

“But then he got out,” she went on, “and he was still… him. Still reckless, still a mess. Still wanting me to sit in the mess with him even though I couldn’t breathe. And now, seeing that letter thrown back in my face in the middle of aliteralmess… It just feels like all that effort was for nothing. How could I let it get this far?”

Her voice broke on the last word, and I was out of the chair before I realized I’d moved. I crouched in front of her, resting a hand on the edge of the bed, close enough to hers that she’d know I was there for her without invading her space.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said quietly. “You gave him a chance—a thousand chances, it sounds like. That says everything about the kind of person you are, not him.”

She shook her head. “I gave too much, and I didn’t know when to stop. And now, no matter how far I go, he’s always there, reminding me of how stupid I was.”

“You weren’t stupid,” I said firmly, leaning in just enough to catch her eye. “You cared. And you cared enough to hope—and to try to gift some of that hope to him. That’s not stupid, Sofia.”

Her breath hitched and I thought she might cry, but then she blinked rapidly, keeping the tears at bay as she held my gaze. “I just… I don’t want him to ruin what I’m trying to build for myself. Not anymore.”

“He won’t,” I promised. “I won’t let him.”

The words hung between us, heavier than I’d intended, but I didn’t back down. I couldn’t.

Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t get the words out. I knew the feeling.

The silence stretched, charged with something I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t simply attraction. That was there, obviously, and it had been since day one. But beyond the attraction there was also that connection we’d made light of the other night. Though, right now? There was nothing light about it.

There was something about the way she looked at me—raw, vulnerable, and yet so strong—that did something to my chest. I reached up to rub the spot over my heart, wondering how it was possible that it could ache and soften at the same time.

I dropped my hand but stayed where I was, my other hand still resting on the edge of the bed. Waiting. Watching. Letting her decide what came next.

Sofia’s breathing slowed, her shoulders gradually relaxing as she sat there, the tension in her body unwinding bit by bit. Her gaze remained locked on mine, though, wide and unguarded, as if she was searching for something in my expression.

“Why do you care so much?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t know,” I replied just as quietly. “Maybe it’s that era thing you mentioned.”

Light returned to her eyes as a small smile tugged at her lips. “We hardly know each other.”

“I know enough. Enough to see how strong you are. Enough to know you deserve better than what he’s put you through.”

She glanced down at her lap. “I don’t feel strong. I feel… stuck. And I don’t just mean because of Dane. It’s kind of a pattern. Like no matter what I do, I’ll always be the girl who couldn’t see the red flags until it was too late.”

“That’s not who you are.” My voice came out firmer than I intended, but I didn’t back down. “You’re the woman who fought to make a better life for herself, and a woman who deserves a man who would fight for you to feel safe in it.”

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