Page 14 of Dare to Hold (Dare To Love #1)

Ivy

I don’t like not being prepared.

Sunday at church, when everyone around me opened their Bibles, I just…sat there. Hands empty. Heart pounding.

It wasn’t like anyone pointed or whispered, but I felt it—like I’d shown up to a test without even knowing there was one. And I hated that feeling.

Besides, if I really am going to try this whole Jesus thing…shouldn’t I take it seriously? Isn’t this book like super, important?

What could go wrong? I don’t like it, and I lose out on the man of my dreams? The man who consumes my thoughts every time I close my eyes? The one whose voice still echoes in my head from yesterday?

Gray, leaning forward, hand warm against mine, his tone so steady it made my chest ache: I’m not expecting you to suddenly have it all figured out. But would you be willing to try?

It was the way he said try. Like he wasn’t asking me to perform or prove something. Just…take a step .

And after the way he helped me finally understand grace and mercy, how could I not?

Grace—God giving me something I don’t deserve. Mercy—not giving me what I do deserve. Both, wrapped up in love so deep I can’t begin to measure it.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, staring through my windshield at the bookstore.

Okay, Ivy. Step one.

I pop the door open, cool air brushing against my legs as I climb out. The faint smell of coffee drifts from the little café tucked in the corner of the store, mixing with the warm scent of paper and ink that greets me the second I step inside.

Somewhere in here, there’s a Bible with my name on it.

Easier said than done.

I weave past the fiction shelves, glancing at bright covers and bold titles, my usual comfort zone. I’ve never needed help in a bookstore before—this is my natural habitat. But the Christian section? Apparently, it’s hiding.

I slow my steps, scanning the aisle signs. Cookbooks. Travel. Self-help. Where in the world are they keeping Jesus?

I must look as lost as I feel because a voice pipes up beside me. “Can I help you find something?”

I instantly wave him off. “Oh, no. I’m good.”

Except…I’m not. Not even a little.

Two more steps and I stop, pivoting awkwardly back toward the poor bookseller who’s halfway down the aisle now. “Wait! Actually…yes.” My voice comes out sheepish. “I’m looking for…uh…Bibles.”

He smiles like it’s the most normal request in the world. “Right this way. ”

And just like that, I’m trailing behind a stranger to the one place in this store I’ve somehow never set foot in.

When we turn the corner, I stop short.

There they are—rows and rows of Bibles, stacked and lined up like they’ve been waiting for me. Suddenly I feel that same strange, warm ache I did on Sunday during the music.

Maybe this won’t just be about being prepared.

Maybe it’s about being found.

I pick up the first one that catches my eye—soft pink leather with delicate gold lettering. Pretty. The kind of book you’d want to leave out on a coffee table, even if you never opened it.

Then I notice a navy one with a zipper closure and a cream one with tiny, embossed flowers curling along the spine.

But then I freeze.

Each one has a little set of letters under the word “Bible.” NIV. ESV. KJV.

Wait…what?

I grab my phone and type, “What does KJV mean?” Articles pop up with words like “translation,” “literal,” “thought-for-thought,” and “paraphrase.”

I read through a few until I get the gist. They are all versions of the Bible—saying the same thing, just in slightly different ways—but how am I supposed to know which one is right for me? This feels less like picking a book and more like picking a side.

I sigh, setting the pink one back.

That’s when something colorful on the next shelf catches my eye. A whole display of pastel highlighters, gel pens, and the cutest little Bible verse stickers I’ve ever seen. There are tabs with gold-foil lettering, too, like tiny jewelry for your pages.

I glance back at the Bibles, then at the pens.

If I’m going to study this thing…I feel like I need these.

Not want. Need.

Because apparently, buying a Bible is now a full-blown experience.

I’m still staring at the rainbow pack of highlighters when my phone buzzes.

Gray

How’s your day going?

I glance between the pens in my hand and the row of Bibles in front of me, suddenly tempted to ask him for help. But instead of thinking it through, my thumbs just type:

Ivy

I need help.

Not even two seconds later, my phone starts ringing.

I answer, startled. “Hello?”

“Ivy—are you okay? Where are you? What happened?” His voice is tight, urgent, like he’s already halfway to his truck.

My eyes widen. “Oh—oh my gosh, no! Sorry! I’m fine. I’m literally in a bookstore. I just…worded that really badly.”

There’s a pause, then a long exhale. “You cannot text me ‘I need help’ with no context. My heart just shaved five years off my life.”

I bite my lip, feeling a little sheepish. “Noted. For future reference, ‘I need help picking a Bible’ would’ve been the better route? ”

“Much better,” he says, though I can hear the smile in his voice now. “Alright, tell me what’s going on.”

I lean my hip against the shelf, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder while I glance at the row of Bibles again.

“So, here’s the thing,” I say. “I picked up a few that looked pretty—like, really pretty. But then I noticed all these little labels—ESV, NIV, KJV—and now I feel like I’m trying to order at a restaurant where the menu is in another language.”

Gray chuckles softly, the sound low and warm.

“Okay, so those are just different translations. The Bible was originally written in Hebrew and Greek, so what you’re seeing is basically the English version someone translated it into.

Each one has a slightly different style of wording.

Same truth—just different ways of saying it. ”

“Right…so…how do I know which one is my way?”

“Well,” he says, “I personally use KJV—King James Version. It’s beautiful and poetic, but it’s also written in old English. Lots of ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ and words we don’t really use anymore. Honestly? I wouldn’t start there.”

I huff out a little laugh. “Good to know.”

“For you, I’d recommend NIV—the New International Version,” he continues. “It’s easy to read but still accurate. Flows more like the way we talk now, which makes it a lot less intimidating when you’re just starting out.”

I glance down at the Bible in my hand, then at another one that says NIV on the spine. “So basically…KJV is the gorgeous antique bookshelf piece, but NIV is the one I’ll actually understand?”

“Exactly.”

My gaze drifts back to the display of pastel highlighters and Bible tabs. “Okay…so I also got pens, sticky notes, stickers, highlighters…anything else you think I need?”

Gray’s laugh rumbles through the phone. “You’re turning Bible shopping into a full-blown Target run, aren’t you?”

“Don’t judge. If I’m committing to reading the most important book in the world, it deserves accessories.”

“Oh, I’m not judging,” he teases. “I’m just making a mental note that if you ever join a Bible study group, you’re gonna be the most prepared person in the room. Color-coded and all.”

“Obviously,” I say, grinning at the highlighters like they’ve just been promoted to VIP status. “I’m nothing if not thorough.”

His chuckle softens into something warmer, and before I can stop myself, I ask, “So…how’s your day going?”

He exhales slowly, like my voice just unraveled whatever knot he’d been carrying. “Better than it started,” he says. “A lot better now that I’m talking to you.”

The way he says it makes my pulse skip. “Smooth,” I tease, but my voice is softer than I mean it to be.

“Not trying to be,” he says. “It’s just the truth.”

I glance at the shelf in front of me, not even registering the rows of Bibles anymore. “Careful, Gray. Keep talking like that and you’re gonna make me blush in public.”

His laugh is low, warm. “I’m good with that. I’d love to see it.”

I shake my head, grinning despite myself. “You’re trouble.”

“Probably,” he admits. “But I also hold doors open and pray for you, so I’m hoping that balances things out.”

My heart does an embarrassing little flip. “That’s…not the worst kind of trouble.”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that feels comfortable instead of awkward, and I realize my arms are aching from everything I’m holding. “Well, I better go check out before my hands give out on me.”

He chuckles. “Go on, Sunshine. But just know—you’ve already made my day.”

We hang up, and I lean against the shelf for a second, grinning like an idiot. My arms are full of books and pens, but my heart? Full of something I’m not quite ready to name.

By the time I get home, I’m actually excited. Which feels weird. I never thought I’d be excited about buying a Bible.

I drop my bag on the couch and head straight for my desk.

The shopping bag hits the surface with a satisfying thud, and I pull everything out like it’s Christmas morning—pens in every pastel shade imaginable, sticky notes in the shape of little speech bubbles, tabs that shimmer in the light, and highlighters so pretty they might just deserve their own display shelf.

I peel the plastic off each one, lining them up neatly, because if I’m going to do this, I’m going to all in.

The Bible sits in the center, still in its box.

I slide it out carefully, like it might break if I move too fast. It’s heavier than I expected, the leather smooth and cool under my fingertips.

I flip it open at random—Matthew. I skim the words, feeling…

lost. Do I just start from page one like any other book?

Or jump around? Is there a “Beginner’s Guide to Reading the Bible” section I somehow missed ?

I bite my lip, tapping the page with the tip of my pen. And then it hits me—the verse from Sunday. The one Pastor Jack read when he talked about worth and grace.

“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” Matthew 6:26-27

Something about that moment flashes back—Gray, sitting across from me at lunch, his voice low when he explained mercy and grace over tacos. The way he looked at me like he saw something worth waiting for.

I grab my phone, wanting to dive in more, and quickly search: bible verses explaining grace. Ephesians 2:8-9. My fingers tremble just a little as I flip to the page, the thin paper whispering with each turn. Finally, I spot the words.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9

My chest tightens in the best possible way.

I uncap a highlighter, the mint green one, because why not start with my favorite color, and drag it slowly across the lines.

These two verses are the first things I’ve ever marked in a Bible.

And somehow, it feels like the first step toward something bigger.