5. Sofia
CHAPTER 5
Sofia
I stepped into the cozy warmth of the local coffee shop, and the rich scent of roasted beans and chocolate was almost as welcoming as the bells that jingled above the door. How was it possible that every business in this town felt like a warm hug the second you stepped inside? No wonder Tommy had made his home here. No wonder I’d followed him.
Grace slipped inside behind me, unwinding her scarf with an exaggerated shiver. “I’m never going to get used to these winters.”
I took off my own scarf with a grin. “You will. Right now, you’re just fighting the urge to fly South for the winter.”
“What I wouldn’t give for a Mai Tai on the beach right about now,” Grace said with a wistful smile. “That’s the one thing I miss about travel blogging. Cold? Go somewhere warm. In the mood for hot chocolate? Pop into a snowy town just long enough to get the warm and fuzzies, but leave before you freeze to death.”
“Sounds nice, but I think the pros of leaving that gig outweigh the cons, right?”
“Your brother is quite a pro.”
I made a face as I tried to hold in my laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.”
We turned toward the counter as the cafe buzzed with quiet chatter. Holiday music played softly overhead, and I almost had the urge to hum along. Not enough to actually do it, but it was close. Snow Hill was getting its festive hooks in. I’d been here for a week now, and already I hated the ticking clock on my trip here.
Then again, what did I have to go back to?
"Sofia, Grace! Over here!" Ida’s cheerful voice called out from a table in the corner.
My lips curved into a smile as I spotted Ida and Joan. The women enjoyed their coffee at a table decorated with a poinsettia centerpiece, and it was nice to see Joan socializing anywhere other than the Inn. I had no idea what level of bribery it had taken for Ida to get her long-time friend to venture out, but I was glad for it. Joan Patterson took the concept of a workaholic to a whole new level despite how much of the family business was handled by her beloved son. But there were worse things than loving your job enough to make it your whole life. I could’ve been the same way with The Franklin if it weren’t for Dane ruining it for me.
“Morning, ladies," I said, giving them a little wave as Grace and I made our way over.
"Out for a girls’ morning, I see," Joan said, her eyes twinkling.
“Had to get our caffeine fix,” Grace replied, her tone playful. "How are you both?"
"Oh, wonderful," Ida said, wrapping her hands around her steaming mug. The foam of her coffee had a sprig of holly drawn into it, and that bit of artistry was just another reason I loved this place. "Joan and I were just discussing the pen pal exchange. We can’t believe how many people are participating!”
I still couldn’t believe I was participating, but over the last week, I’d exchanged letters with my pen pal every single day. They made it so easy with the letters to Santa box at the inn, and I loved that they delivered the letters every night.
That said, I was this close to asking the meddling organizers if we could switch this up and make it an anonymous texting thing. Somehow, daily letters for the past week weren’t enough, and I found myself constantly wanting to trade words with my pen pal.
Somehow, I doubted they’d go along with that considering the ridiculous amount of time they spent running this show.
I grinned at them. "You two did such a good job with it. I love the touch with the pretty envelopes and the different Christmas stamps you use on them. Makes it feel very official, but also really cute.”
"Well, you know us," Joan said with a wink. “We never do anything halfway.”
“We’re very proud of it," Ida added, chuckling as she reached for her phone, tapping away at something.
Ida always seemed to be coordinating some new project or group activity around town. I smiled down at her, wondering what it was this time.
Grace and I made small talk with Joan and Ida for a few more minutes before the call of the coffee was too strong for us to resist. We waved goodbye before making our way to the counter, ordering a peppermint mocha for me and a white chocolate mocha for Grace. Moments later, steaming cups in hand, we found a quiet corner table by the window.
"So," Grace began, settling into her chair, “am I a huge jerk for not signing up for the pen pal thing?”
I frowned at my sister-in-law. “What? Why would that make you a jerk?”
“Um, how about because the woman my husband treats like an honorary grandmother is so proud of it, but I’m blatantly pretending it doesn’t exist?”
“Grace, I say this with love: give yourself a break. Last Christmas, you got anonymous threats via email. No one would want you participating in an anonymous pen pal exchange on the heels of something like that.”
Grace wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want it to bug me after all this time, but it still does.”
“I know,” I said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. “But it hasn’t been that long. It makes sense that it bugs you, but that doesn’t mean you’re not one of the strongest people I know. Shoot, it still bugs me, and I wasn’t even his target.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you for also being torn up by all of that. I know you were really into him before everything got so horror-movie-like.” Grace squeezed my hand, then released it so she could pick up her mug. “Anyway, how’s your pen pal?”
I beamed automatically. “I think I’m starting to really like him.”
“ Like him , like him?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “No, it’s just that I can tell from his letters he’s really funny and warm. He’s probably some random old guy, but whatever. It’s not like the point of the exchange is matchmaking, right?”
“Um, have you met the organizers?”
Laughing, I stole a glance at Ida and Joan. “I wondered if that was their endgame, but that would be really hard to finagle.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” she said, lowering her chin and her voice. “Don’t forget, they chose all of the pairings. I’d be shocked if they didn’t factor romance into the equation.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but my gut reaction was to cringe. But then I thought about the last week sending letters back and forth with my pen pal, and maybe it wasn’t all that bad.
Wait, no. Hadn’t we just talked about Grace’s scary experience from last year? This could be a major catfishing moment. Better not get ahead of myself, no matter how many times I’d literally laughed out loud while reading my mystery man’s words.
I cringed again. He wasn’t my mystery man. Just a man, who’s identity happened to be a mystery.
Grace must have been able to see the conflict all over my face, because she waved a hand. “Don’t overthink it. I could be totally off-base about the matchmaking thing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“How are you liking The Hearthstone?"
“Nice subject change,” I said wryly, pausing to take a sip of my mocha. “It’s going well, though. It’s different from Philly, but in a good way. Slower pace, fewer… complications."
Grace raised an eyebrow, her expression equal parts curious and skeptical. "Complications, huh? Is it story time?”
Before I could respond, the bell over the door jingled, drawing my eye. At first, I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. But then, almost like a fog clearing, the man before me came into focus.
My entire body stiffened, my fingers tightened around the warm cup.
Dane .
It had only been a few weeks since I’d last seen him, but his scruff was longer and his tousled brown hair looked a little messier than I was used to. Almost like he’d been raking his fingers through it. That wasn’t normal for Dane. He was one of those guys who had to put some work in to achieve that disheveled bad boy look, but this was different—like he wasn’t making an effort with his appearance at all.
I watched as Dane scanned the room, and when he found me, and my stomach churned.
This was not happening.
Grace followed my gaze, turning back to me with narrowed eyes. “Friend of yours?"
"Not exactly," I muttered. I tried to school my features into something neutral while I watched, frozen, as my ex strode toward our table.
"Sofia," he said, stopping a foot away. His voice was soft, but there was a slight edge to it. "We need to talk."
Grace’s eyes flicked between us, her lips pressing into a thin line.
I sighed, rubbing my temple before looking at Grace. “Sorry, can you give us just a minute?”
Grace looked like she was going to refuse, but something in my expression must have assured her it was all right to go. She nodded once before rising from her chair and walking to the counter. She wouldn’t go far.
"What are you doing here?" I asked Dane. My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care.
"I came for you," he replied, his dark eyes earnest. "I need you to hear me out. I’ve made mistakes—a lot of them. But I’m trying to change, Sof. For you."
I inhaled sharply, anger bubbling to the surface. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to show up and act like everything’s fixable."
"I’m not," he said. He leaned closer, his voice lower… more insistent. “I get that what I’ve done isn’t fixable, but let’s start fresh. I won’t do stuff that needs fixing from now on.”
“Dane—”
“I’m asking for a second chance,” he cut in.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Really? I’ve given you so many chances I’ve lost count.”
“What’s one more?” he asked, reaching out to trail a finger along my cheek.
I knew exactly what he was doing. It wasn’t cruel or manipulative, this change of his demeanor. It was just… Dane. We’d always been able to joke around to lighten the mood, using physical touch to remind us of our connection. It used to be something I loved about him—about us.
But right now, joking about me giving him one more chance fell about as flat as the flat whites they served at the cafe.
“That’s not funny,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on his so he knew I meant it. “Every time I give you another chance, you let me down.”
"I know," he said quickly. "I know I messed up, but I’m not the same guy I was before. I’ve changed. I swear I have."
"And you think following me here is going to prove that?" I asked, my voice rising slightly. Several heads turned, and I felt a blush creep up my neck.
Another scene. Lovely .
But I couldn’t help the outburst. If I had a dollar for every time Dane had sworn he’d changed, I could buy one of the gorgeous Victorian houses that faced Main Street and retire in Snow Hill tomorrow. It wasn’t fair for him to follow me here—to this place that was supposed to be a sanctuary after my embarrassing exit from Philly—and act like he wasn’t simply doing more of the same.
Dane started to reply, but movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned my head just as the bell jingled again, and this time, my brows rose for a different reason.
This time, it was Hudson entering the chat.
And my, oh my, my body’s reaction to his entrance was a heck of a lot different than when Dane had.
Hudson stepped inside, a gust of cold air swirling in behind him. The room shrank right away thanks his overall presence—not to mention his broad shoulders and tall frame. But there was something else about the way he carried himself that had my breath leaving in whoosh.
It was the same thing I saw all week whenever I ran into him around town or the inn: he was intimidating in an intriguing way, but he never held the energy of someone looking for a fight. He was calm, steady. Relaxed, even.
It was a breath of fresh air.
My gaze was glued to him as his hazel eyes bounced around the space. He found Ida, and when she subtly tipped her chin in my direction, his gaze swung right to me. When our eyes locked, he almost looked pleased. Not surprised to see me, but almost like he was looking for me to begin with. It warmed me for reasons I didn’t care to unpack, but then something shifted in his expression as he spotted Dane at my table.
Without hesitation, Hudson walked over, his stride purposeful but still calming as he devoured the space between us. I was pretty sure Dane was speaking to me as I watched Hudson’s approach, but I didn’t hear a thing.
"Everything okay here?" Hudson asked, his deep voice cutting through the haze in my mind—and whatever Dane was saying.
Dane bristled, straightening to his full height. "Who’s asking?"
"A friend," Hudson replied smoothly. His tone was polite but firm. His posture was still relaxed as he tucked his hands into his pockets, once again proving that the calmness I enjoyed didn’t make him any less intimidating when he wanted to be. “And you are?"
"None of your business," Dane shot back.
Hudson opened his mouth to reply as his shoulders became impossibly more broad, and images of these two getting into some kind of brawl, ruining the atmosphere of this cozy cafe, had my throat tightening.
"Dane," I said on a sigh. "Just… go."
Dane hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked between me and Hudson. Finally, he exhaled sharply and stepped back. “We’ll talk later,” he said quietly, his eyes lingering on me before he turned and walked out of the coffee shop.
Hudson waited until the door closed before turning his attention fully to me. His gaze softened, and his lips curved into a faint smile. “Looked like you could use a little backup,” he said, his voice warm despite the ice in his eyes.
“Thanks,” I replied, my fingers tightening around my coffee cup once again. I was going to start losing feeling in them soon.
Grace edged around Hudson and slid back into her seat, her wide eyes darting between Hudson and me.
“See you around, Sofia.” Hudson said before he turned, and Ida’s knowing smile widened as he greeted her, leaning down to kiss her cheek lightly before moving to the counter to order a coffee to go.
I watched as he exchanged a few quiet words with Ida while he waited for his drink, his body language still giving off that relaxed but commanding vibe. Then, with his coffee in hand, he strode out of the shop, the bell jingling softly behind him.
“Um, okay,” Grace said, breaking my trance. “Care to explain what the heck just happened?”