Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy - Janice Lynn Page 0,86
sister, was probably watching them through the windows.
Hand on the handle, he paused.
“Please be careful.”
Careful? Did she think he was headed out on a call?
“Always.”
She stared at him, her eyes begging him to say something, to acknowledge things he never would.
“I’m glad. I—”
“I’ve got to go,” he interrupted, knowing it was true for so many reasons.
Sophie swallowed, nodded, then stepped back from his vehicle.
A thousand things he could say hit him, but he held his tongue.
Some things were better left unsaid.
“You have to talk to me at some point,” Sophie insisted the following day, from the passenger seat of Cole’s truck.
Cole had been doing his best to keep his eyes on the road and not on where she fidgeted with her seatbelt. She’d chatted non-stop from the moment he picked her up at her shop, smiling and acting as if nothing had happened at the nursing home. Nothing had. “It’s making for a long trip with you not talking.”
Should he point out that they were almost finished collecting the boxes and their Christmas charity ‘partnership’ was coming to an end? Just one more business, then he’d drop her back off, and he’d take the toys they’d collected to the church. Alone.
The toys, along with the funds donated by the fire department crew. Cole wasn’t sure how much was needed, but the crew had come through generously. Hopefully, it would be enough to cover gifts for the kids at the Triple B Ranch.
Maybe it wouldn’t be as much as what Sophie had mentioned they usually did for the kids, but each kid could get a gift, surely.
He’d thought about canceling this last toy collection pickup with her, but each time he’d told himself he’d see this through. Initially, he’d approached the toy drive as a mission. One where he did his job, and then he walked away. He was back to seeing it that way again—and now, it was a mission that was nearly complete. After today, the toy drive would be over, other than wrapping and distribution. He shouldn’t have reason to be alone with Sophie again.
“Cole, talk to me.”
“You seem to be doing just fine by yourself,” he pointed out. She had talked enough for the both of them, chatting about anything and everything as if nothing was wrong until she’d apparently had enough of his silence.
“Ah-ha. You said something. Finally.” Her face took on a proud look as if she’d accomplished some grand feat in pulling the words from him.
“Had something to say.”
“And you hadn’t up to that point?” She glanced at her watch. “We’ve been picking up collection boxes for over an hour, and you’ve barely said two words.”
He shrugged.
“See. There you go again. Nonverbal.”
Not talking was easier and way less painful than getting pulled back into the fantasy that something had been happening between them. That something even could happen.
How could he have forgotten all the reasons why that was impossible? If nothing else, her talk about her father leaving should have been reminder enough. Instead, it had taken hearing her admit she was throwing a pity party for him to jar him out of his Sophie sunshine euphoria.
“Don’t be this way.” Her voice held such a pleading quality to it that Cole’s insides twisted.
“What way would you have me be?”
“The way you were when we were sledding, or playing the game at Sarah and Bodie’s. Or while we were at the On-the-Square Christmas festival, or while we were decorating the tree. Or—”
“Let me stop you,” he intervened. “I told you in the beginning that I wasn’t interested in being your friend.”
“I—Yes, you did say that,” she admitted, her expression a mixture of uncertainty and stubbornness. “But I thought…Why would you say that? I mean, who doesn’t want more friends?”
“Me—I don’t. The way things are now is how they need to stay.”
“Says who? Because that’s not what I think you need.”
No, she thought he needed her to make a big deal of his past and wrap him in one of her blankets.
“I don’t need your emotional charity, Sophie. I’m just fine.”
She looked shocked. “I never said you weren’t fine.”
“But you think it.”
“Obviously, you have no clue what I think.”
“I heard you say you wanted to give me one of your quilts.”
Her jaw dropped open a little. “That’s what this is about?”
“You read my journal and rather than be disgusted as you should have been, you felt sorry for me instead, probably because of your father. You’ve made me into a pet project who you want to