Page 34 of Dare to Hold (Dare To Love #1)

Ivy

The hallway hums with energy—volunteers bustling back and forth, parents ushering children to classrooms, and the soft strum of a guitar drifting from the sanctuary. I lean against the welcome desk, a cup of warm coffee in my hand, my eyes flicking to the front doors every few seconds.

Harper spots me from across the hallway, clipboard tucked under her arm as she weaves her way through the crowd. Her ponytail bounces with every step, her expression curious. “Is she not here yet?”

I shake my head, glancing at the clock on the wall. Two minutes until service starts.

Harper rolls her eyes. “You know she’s gonna slide in at the very last second. Probably with that ridiculous oversized purse and a latte that’s more sugar than coffee.”

I laugh, despite the knot of worry tightening in my stomach. “I know. But still...”

Harper nudges me with her shoulder. “She’ll be here.” Her voice is confident, almost dismissive, like it’s obvious. Like there’s no other option. “You need me to stick around? ”

I shake my head. “You’ve got kids’ ministry today, right?”

She raises the clipboard like it’s a trophy. “You bet. Got my clipboard. Got my schedule. Got a plan for world domination via craft time.”

I snort. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me,” she sings, throwing a wave over her shoulder as she heads toward the children’s wing.

I turn back toward the door, chewing on the inside of my cheek. People shuffle in, brushing past me with nods and murmured greetings. I watch each face, searching for Olivia’s sharp eyes and skeptical smile.

One minute to go.

I swallow hard, the knot in my stomach growing tighter. Maybe it was too much to ask. Maybe last week at worship night was a fluke, and she…

The door swings open, and there she is.

Olivia steps through the threshold, cheeks flushed from the brisk morning air, hair a bit tousled like she hurried to get here. She spots me instantly, her eyes narrowing in playful accusation. “Are you waiting on me?”

I grin, holding out her coffee. “You’re late.”

She shrugs, snatching the cup from my hand. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Barely.” I laugh, relief flooding my chest. “Ready to head in?”

She hesitates, glancing over my shoulder toward the sanctuary doors. “Do we have to sit near the front?”

I shake my head. “Not if you don’t want to.”

Olivia lets out a breath. “Good. Because last time, that pastor made so much eye contact I thought he was reading my mind. ”

I laugh, looping my arm through hers. “Come on, I promise I won’t let him call you out.”

She snorts, but she follows, her pace matching mine. We slip into the sanctuary just as the music swells, the soft strum of guitar blending with the hum of voices.

I find us a spot a few rows back, not too close but not hidden, either. Olivia settles beside me, her hands wrapped around her cup like it’s a lifeline. I can see her scanning the room, eyes darting over the rows of people, the raised hands, the soft sway of bodies moving with the music.

I lean over, my voice soft. “You ok?”

Olivia’s eyes stay forward, but she nods. “Yeah…just still getting used to it.”

“That’s okay.” I squeeze her arm. “Just…let it happen.”

She glances at me, her gaze softening. “You make it sound so easy.”

I smile. “It’s not.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but she stays. And for now, that’s enough.

The last song ends with a lingering chord, voices still humming the final note. I glance over at Olivia—her eyes are still forward, her hands gripping her coffee cup like it’s the only thing tethering her to this moment.

Pastor Jack’s voice echoes in my mind, still steady and warm even though he’s stepped off the stage.

He’d talked about friendships today—not just casual, surface ones, but the ones that sharpen you, steady you, and point you back to Jesus when you’re tempted to drift.

“God never meant for us to do faith alone,” he’d said, pacing slowly, eyes sweeping over the crowd.

“The people you walk with shape the path you’ll take.

Choose friends who remind you of God’s truth, not just your feelings.

Choose the ones who pray with you when life caves in and celebrate with you when joy overflows. ”

Even as he listed those qualities, I knew I was sitting beside one friend who didn’t seem like she wanted anything to do with God, and had another who was giving every spare moment she had to church—even if it meant skipping the message.

Both of them mattered to me. Both of them are part of my story.

And in the middle of it, I couldn’t help wondering where I fit in.

Was I the friend pointing them to God—or the one who needed pointing?

He’d closed the message with a challenge: “Think about the people God’s placed in your life.

Don’t take it lightly. Friendships aren’t accidents.

They’re assignments.” The word assignment had stuck with me, heavy in my chest. Could it be that Harper and Olivia weren’t just random girls I’d been dared into road trips and late-night snacks with—but women God had woven into my life for something more?

When the lights brighten and people start filing out of the sanctuary, I give her arm a gentle nudge. “Want to go grab Harper? She’s only serving for first hour today.”

Olivia blinks, like she’s just snapped back to reality. “Yeah. Sure.”

We weave through the crowd, dodging volunteers and families gathering in little huddles, until we reach the kids’ wing. I spot Harper almost instantly—talking with parents, telling them how sweet their kids are and wishing them a great day.

Her ponytail is coming loose, and her sweater has a small smear of glitter across the sleeve. She spots us and waves dramatically.

“Hey!” she calls out, her voice bright and breathless. “You guys found me at the perfect time. I just finished liberating the playroom from a glitter invasion. I think I’ll be washing sparkles out of my hair for a week.”

Olivia raises an eyebrow. “You look like you had a run-in with a craft store.”

Harper laughs, brushing off her sweater. “Don’t judge me. The kids wanted sparkly flowers, and who am I to deny them artistic expression?”

We follow her to the volunteer break room, where she drops off her clipboard and grabs a bottle of water. She takes a long sip, leaning against the wall and sighing like she’s just finished a marathon.

“So, how was the service?” she asks, glancing between us.

Olivia shrugs. “Not terrible.”

Harper raises an eyebrow. “That’s practically a glowing review coming from you.”

I laugh, nudging Olivia’s shoulder. “Baby steps.”

Harper nods approvingly, twisting the cap back on her water. “You coming back next week?”

Olivia hesitates, her eyes flicking to me before she responds. “I...I think so.”

“That’s all you have to do,” I say, smiling. “Just keep coming back.”

Olivia sips her coffee, her gaze flicking around the hallway. “Hey...I didn’t see Gray up there today.”

I shake my head. “He’s out of town for the weekend. A Christian music camp for teens.”

“Oh, wow, that’s impressive” Olivia nods, taking that in. But Harper’s eyes light up like someone just handed her a golden ticket.

“Wait, so that means…” Harper claps her hands together. “We can go to brunch! ”

I raise an eyebrow, chuckling. “We can go to brunch even when Gray is here.”

Harper rolls her eyes dramatically. “Um, yeah, okay. Like it doesn’t take all his strength to not spend time with you.” She grins like she just delivered the punchline of the year.

I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. A flush creeps up my cheeks instead. “That’s not true.”

Harper just raises both eyebrows. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

Olivia chuckles into her coffee cup, and I stare at my feet for a moment, biting back the smile that’s threatening to break free. I think back to the dinners, the long drives, the countless hours spent talking and just being together.

I mean, she’s not wrong.

But still…

Am I spending too much time with him? The question rolls through me, a thread of uncertainty tugging at the corners of my thoughts. It’s not like I’m dropping everything to be with him. I still work. I still see my friends. I’m still…me.

Right?

Harper doesn’t notice the pause in my thoughts. She’s already halfway out the door, calling back to us. “Come on, I’m starving! And I’m making it a rule—if Gray’s not here, we’re getting double mimosas.”

Olivia snorts. “Deal.”

I follow them out, shaking off the unease. But the question lingers.

Am I losing myself in him?

Or worse…am I losing pieces of who I’m supposed to be?

We pull into the parking lot of Sunny Side, the local brunch spot in Downtown Dallas with creaky floors and endless coffee refills. Harper practically bounces out of the car, her ponytail swinging as she bounds up the steps and pushes open the door.

Olivia and I exchange glances, her eyebrow quirked. “Is she always this excited for food?”

“Only when there’s syrup involved.” I laugh, holding the door open for her.

Inside, the place is bustling—mugs clinking, plates clattering, the smell of bacon and fresh waffles filling the air. We find a booth near the back, tucked away from the main traffic. Harper slides in first, pulling a menu toward her.

“Okay, hear me out,” she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We order one of everything and just split it. That way, we don’t have to choose.”

Olivia snorts. “That sounds both excessive and genius.”

“Thank you,” Harper says, flipping the menu dramatically. “I pride myself on my excessive genius.”

I settle in beside her, resting my elbows on the table. “I don’t know if I can eat that much. You forget I’m not wrangling toddlers all morning.”

Harper waves me off. “That just means you have more room for waffles.”

When the waitress comes by, we order a spread that’s borderline ridiculous—pancakes, waffles, French toast, and a side of bacon that Harper insists is absolutely necessary for balance .

As soon as the waitress walks away, Harper turns to Olivia. “Okay, spill. What did you really think of service today?”

Olivia shrugs, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. “It was fine. I mean...I don’t know.” She pauses, her spoon clinking against the ceramic edge. “I just don’t get it yet.”

Harper props her elbows on the table, leaning in. “Get what?”

“This whole faith thing. I see you guys diving in, and I just...I don’t feel it. I don’t want to fake it just to fit in.” Her voice is quiet, almost apologetic.

I lean back, watching her. “No one’s asking you to fake anything, Liv.”

She nods, her gaze dropping to her coffee cup. “I know. It’s just...it’s like I’m waiting for something to click, and it never does. I want to believe—I do. But I also don’t want to pretend.”

Harper reaches over, grabbing a sugar packet and tearing it open.

“I think everyone feels like that sometimes.” She empties the sugar into her coffee, stirring it slowly.

“Honestly? I’ve been around church my whole life and I still don’t get everything.

That’s kinda the point, right? You’re not supposed to have it all figured out. ”

Olivia glances up, her eyes softening. “Do you ever feel like you’re faking it?”

Harper laughs, the sound sudden and loud enough to draw a glance from the booth behind us. “Me? Oh, all the time. But that’s what clipboards are for.”

Olivia blinks. “Clipboards?”

Harper nods, tapping the table. “When I don’t know what I’m doing, I just write random things on my clipboard. Pretend I’ve got it all handled. Eventually, I do.” She shrugs. “ Fake it till you make it. Or, you know...until you get glitter bombed by a bunch of three-year-olds.”

I snort, shaking my head. “You hide behind structure.”

Harper doesn’t flinch. “I hide behind a lot of things.”

The confession hangs between us, fragile and real. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her say it out loud. Olivia’s gaze flickers between us, her expression softening.

“Maybe I need a clipboard,” Olivia mutters, half to herself.

Harper laughs, handing her a sugar packet. “Here, start with this. Sugar’s the foundation of all good plans.”

Olivia actually laughs—like, really laughs. The sound is light and unburdened, and it makes me realize how much I’ve missed it.

The waitress brings our food, and the table is quickly covered with plates of breakfast perfection. Harper immediately starts cutting into the waffles, piling strawberries and whipped cream onto her plate.

We dig in, the conversation lightening with every bite. Harper’s retelling stories of her morning, complete with dramatic reenactments, and Olivia actually seems...relaxed.

But through it all, I can’t stop the little voice in my head—the one that’s replaying Harper’s comment back at the church: It takes all of his strength to not spend time with you.

My fork hovers over my plate, my mind running circles around the thought.

Harper nudges me with her elbow, her mouth half-full of syrupy waffle. “Are you ok? You look like you’re having an existential crisis over pancakes.”

I laugh, the sound lighter than I feel. “Just...thinking.”

Harper rolls her eyes. “You think too much.”

I shrug, picking at my food. “Yeah. Maybe. ”

But even as the conversation swirls back into jokes and sarcasm, I can’t shake it. That question. That lingering thread of doubt.

Am I giving too much of myself away?

Or...am I finally giving it to the right person?