Sarah had asked if she’d found the owner of the journal. Sophie had glossed over her meeting with Cole then, and had only told Isabelle that he’d refused the book. Revealing his refusal to anyone else had seemed as if she would be exposing his vulnerability, so she’d kept it to herself.
She might not have mentioned his name out loud, but Sophie had thought about Cole since then. A lot.
As in, way too often throughout every single day.
She’d reread his diary, trying to imagine the quiet man with a pen in his hand, pouring his emotions onto the pages of the book. His fingers gripping the pen tightly as he bore down on the paper, firing words onto emptiness in attempt to rid himself of the nightmares inside of him.
Isabelle said, “I may start schoolgirl-crushing on him, too.”
Sophie squinted at her sister.
“Oh, fine. I won’t get in a tizzy over him.” Isabelle glanced over at where Cole sat with Ben and Andrew. “Are you going to ask if he’s changed his mind about the journal?”
“No.” Sophie snorted at Isabella’s suggestion. She’d seen the narrowing of those pale eyes when she’d handed him his flyer. It was clear he wished he’d never met her.
In a way, she could understand where that distaste was coming from. What guy wanted anyone to know how vulnerable he was on the inside? Especially a tough ex-Marine firefighter?
Maybe, at some point in the future, she could make him understand that she hadn’t judged him harshly because of what she’d read but rather that she viewed him with compassion. Perhaps if she told him about her work with the Quilts of Valor Foundation, he’d understand that she and others like her made quilts for military personnel past and present to comfort and help them heal after traumatic experiences exactly like the ones he’d written about.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to wrap Cole in a quilt?
To drape lovingly sewn material around his wounded warrior shoulders, letting the cotton fabric hug him, as she welcomed him home?
“Sophie? You’d best snap to it before Maybelle calls you out on your daydreaming,” Isabelle warned, nudging Sophie with her elbow.
Having no idea what she was supposed to be snapping to, Sophie looked to her sister for guidance.
“Charlie and Ruby’s group is over here. Your and Sarah’s group is meeting at the back corner table. Perhaps you should join them,” Isabelle suggested, filling in the gaps the way she always did when Sophie got distracted. Three years older, her sister had always looked out for Sophie. For their mother, too, really.
“Yes.”
She should pay attention. Maybelle wouldn’t think a thing of calling her out in front of the entire room. It wouldn’t even be the first time for that, either. Maybelle had been her church Sunday school teacher several times over the years and had put a halt to Sophie’s daydreaming more than once.
She gave her sister an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Izzy.”
Sophie hurried back to where five people waited on her.
Rosie Matthews, Sarah Smith, Ben Preston, Andrew Scott, and Cole Aaron. How had she ended up giving the firemen all threes?
Having Cole in her group made her insides jittery, but it was unlikely she’d get a better chance to let him know his secrets were safe with her, that she knew more about what he’d gone through than he thought.
She’d lived it, too.
Not directly, as he had, but as the child of a father who had been unable to handle the battles taking place inside his head long after he’d returned to civilian life.
Pushing the memories aside before she fell down another rabbit hole of distraction, Sophie took a deep breath and smiled at her group. She knew everyone, of course, but Cole was probably a stranger to Rosie and Sarah. For his benefit, she asked the members to introduce themselves.
Rosie, still a vivacious free spirit even well into her sixties, batted her lashes at the three firemen, fluffed her dyed-blue hair, then held her hand out, palm down, as if she expected one of the men to lift it to his lips. Always the charmer, Ben complied.
“So nice to see you all, I’m sure,” she cooed, her Southern accent coming out thick and heavy. “If I’d recalled that Pine Hill’s fire department had the likes of you three and was younger, I’d have set my smoke alarm off and had y’all over for some of my grandmother’s famous cinnamon bread months ago.”
Eyes wide, Sophie and Sarah exchanged looks, both biting back smiles at their