Page 4 of Dare to Hold (Dare To Love #1)

I glance back at Gray, almost apologetically.

He meets my gaze, then gives a soft, understanding nod—like he already knows I’m about to ruin something we were just beginning.

I answer, slower than necessary. “Hey, Liv.”

“Just checking you’re still alive,” she says dramatically. “Cough twice if the hot stranger has you tied to a chair.”

“I’m fine,” I say, smiling despite myself, twirling the edge of my sleeve just to give my hands something to do.

“Well, in case you forgot, girls’ weekend is still a thing. Dinner in two hours. Harper and I are headed back to the hotel to change.”

“Right.” I hesitate, eyes drifting back to Gray and staying there a beat too long. “I’ll be there soon.”

I hang up. But I don’t move.

Because if I stand, this moment ends—and some irrational part of me is already terrified of not getting it back.

Gray’s gaze holds mine, which isn’t making this any easier.

“I should go,” I say at last, the words catching somewhere between my chest and my throat.

He offers a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I get it.”

We stand, though I’m fairly certain my body is staging a slow-motion protest. I follow him out of the coffee shop into the golden warmth of the New Orleans afternoon.

The streets hum with life—tourists meandering past locals, a saxophone wailing from a nearby corner, the sweet scent of beignets mixing with something spicy and rich in the air .

We step out into the warmth, the late afternoon light catching on his hair. He glances down at me, still holding the door open until I’m clear, then falls into step beside me.

“Which way am I walking you?” he asks, like it’s a given that he’s not letting me go alone.

“The Belle Maison,” I say. “It’s about three blocks from here.”

He nods once, like that settles it, and then his hand slips into mine—like it’s the most natural thing in the world. My pulse trips over itself.

And it’s completely undoing me.

I don’t look at him, I can’t. Because if I do, I’m afraid he’ll see exactly how much this tiny gesture has knocked the air out of my lungs. Instead, I focus on the rhythm of our steps.

After a few strides, he glances down, a hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth. “Crowds make you nervous,” he says casually, “but I’m starting to think you get quiet when you’re trying not to smile.”

My head snaps toward him. “That’s not true.”

The corner of his mouth kicks up. “Oh, it’s true. You’re doing it right now.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t fight the smile that edges in anyway.

“See?” he says, giving my hand a little squeeze. “Knew I could get one out of you.”

And just like that, we’re moving down a narrow side street draped in hanging plants and the soft hum of music spilling from an open doorway. His thumb brushes against mine in an absentminded rhythm that feels anything but accidental.

“So,” I say, glancing up at him, “since you’re apparently not a local, what do you think of New Orleans? ”

He shrugs. “It’s alright.”

I gasp. “Alright?”

Gray chuckles. “I mean, it’s cool. The food’s great. The history’s wild. But the humidity?” He shudders. “Criminal.”

I laugh. “Okay, fair.” I glance around at the bright awnings and moss-draped balconies. “It has a certain kind of magic, though, doesn’t it? Like, there’s something about this place that makes you want to believe in…I don’t know, fate?”

He doesn’t answer right away. When I look up, he’s already watching me.

“Ivy,” he says softly, “I think you want to believe in fate.”

I start to reply with some quick comeback, but the words vanish.

Because maybe he’s right.

Maybe I do.

Before I can untangle the flutter in my chest, we reach the hotel. The tall building rises behind me, its glass doors gleaming. We stop just outside, the noise of the street blurring around us.

Neither of us moves.

We just…linger.

The silence between us is charged with something we’re both too aware of.

Then, Gray steps closer.

Before I can think, his arms are around me.

I don’t hesitate. I sink into him like I’ve been waiting for this all day. Maybe longer.

His chest rises beneath my cheek. I breathe him in, that oddly satisfying mix of leather and vanilla. My hands hover at his sides, then curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding on .

His breath brushes my ear, low and teasing. “I’m glad you grabbed my hand today, Ivy.”

My pulse stumbles.

“Even if it was a little creepy.”

A laugh bursts out of me, warm and unwilling, and I swat his arm. “You’re the worst.”

That grin—wide, easy—breaks across his face like he just won something. But then it softens, the edges blurring into something quieter. Deeper.

We don’t move. The city spills on around us—laughter, music, the clink of glasses—but it feels like we’re sealed inside our own moment, suspended in the air between us.

His gaze drops briefly to my hand, and for a second, I swear he almost reaches for it again. My heart hammers in anticipation…but then his fingers flex at his side, like he’s decided against it.

Something unspoken passes between us—something that says we could make this more, could close the gap—but neither of us does.

I swallow. “Bye, Gray.”

He holds my gaze, eyes catching the sunlight, and his voice dips low. “Bye, Ivy.”

I turn toward the hotel, but my steps drag, each one heavier than the last. And when I dare a glance over my shoulder, he’s still there, hands in his pockets, watching me go.

It’s not until I disappear inside that I let out the breath I’d been holding—because the thought of never seeing him again doesn’t feel small. It feels like a door closing that I wasn’t even ready to walk through.