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“And for my journal.”

Realization dawned in her eyes. “You read it?”

“I wrote it,” he reminded her.

Her hands fell away from her hips and she stared at him in awe. “But you’d never read it, had you?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t like the man who wrote that book. More than that,” he continued, “I was ashamed of him, ashamed you’d read his words. Ashamed that my darkness had ever sullied the goodness of your mind, showing you the mistake I’d made and the terrible price that was paid for it.”

He had been so embarrassed that she’d read those tormented thoughts, had wished he’d destroyed the journal before it could pass into her hands. Now, he recognized Sophie finding that journal may have been the best thing that had ever happened to him.

She was the best thing to have ever happened to him.

“The man who wrote that journal…he is a part of you, I know that, but you shouldn’t be ashamed of him or the decisions he made. You did what you were sent to do, and even in the worst moments, you were willing to lay your life down to save others. There was no way for you to know that ambush was going to happen, nor was it your fault.”

Cole’s throat tightened at her words.

“You need to forgive that man, Cole. He’s the part that made you grow stronger and become who you are today. He’s the clay that was molded into a man who still would think nothing of laying his life down to save another, but whose life is so very precious and such a blessing to everyone who is fortunate enough to know him. That’s the man I see.”

“Tell me more about who you see when you look at me, Sophie.”

“I certainly don’t see someone I feel sorry for, except for when he pushes away anyone who gets too close.”

He didn’t deny her claim.

“I see a man who is good to his very core.”

Despite all the emotions that had led him to Sophie that night, he automatically recoiled at her words, having believed for so long that he was dead inside.

Sophie studied Cole’s face as she continued to tell him all the things she’d been longing to tell him, hating that he’d flinched at her assessment of his character, of who he was.

“You are a good man. You’re kind and generous, loyal and honest, and have the greatest sense of honor of any man I’ve ever known.”

“There you go with those blinders on again,” he deflected, attempting to make light of her words.

Sophie was having none of it. He was here. He had opened his gift, had read his journal, and had come to her. Wearing a Santa suit while carrying her quilt and his Christmas tree, card, and journal.

That had to mean something.

“Possibly,” she admitted. She opened her mouth to tell him, and he stopped her.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to tell me what you see.”

What? She’d loved that he had asked. Loved that he’d given her the opportunity to tell him all the things in her heart.

“Instead, I should have told you how I feel.” He swallowed, then took her hands into his. His shaking hands. “What I see when I look at you.”

Sophie bit into her lower lip, swallowed in effort to keep her throat from closing entirely.

Was this really happening?

“Sophie, you are the greatest gift I’ve ever received. Meeting you, knowing you, having your joy in my life has changed me in ways I can’t begin to describe. It’s no wonder

that no matter how hard I tried to keep my distance, I fell for you anyway.”

“You fell for me?”

“Like a ton of green candy canes.”