When he spoke again, he kept his voice low and steady. “I get that you didn’t know who the journal belonged to, so you read it. Fine. Go back to your life-is-a-bed-of-roses existence and forget everything you read.”

Wincing a little, she shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

Surprised at how her gaze hadn’t wavered from his when he’d expected her to walk away and never waste another breath on him again, Cole frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her chock-full-of-emotion gaze studied his. “I won’t forget what you wrote as long as I live.”

“Then I’m the one who’s sorry.” No one should be subjected to his failings. Not in real life. Not in writing. “But that doesn’t mean I want the book back. Thanks, but no thanks.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at the journal clutched to her chest, much less to touch the worn leather book.

“Do the world a favor and throw the thing in the trash. Or better yet, burn it.” Even Superman has his Kryptonite, he reminded himself, determined he would not let this drag him down into a place he never wanted to return to. “I don’t care so long as you get rid of it because I never want to see that book, or you, again.”

Read the rest!
Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy is available now!