Page 41 of Dare to Hold (Dare To Love #1)

Ivy

The sanctuary is packed today—families filtering in, friends greeting each other with side hugs and wide smiles. I slip into my usual spot, Harper and Olivia trailing behind me. Harper’s grumbling under her breath, practically ripping the lid off her to-go coffee.

“Are you okay?” I ask, glancing at her as I settle into my seat.

Harper rolls her eyes, taking an aggressive sip of her coffee. “I’m fine. Except Micah thinks I’m going to burn out and made me take this weekend off from the kids’ ministry.” She scoffs. “I told him I’m fine, but he just gave me that ‘I know best because I’m the youth pastor’ look.”

I bite back a grin. “Maybe he’s just looking out for you.”

“He’s looking out for his control issues is what he’s doing,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

Olivia snorts. “Maybe you actually do need a break.”

Harper glares at her. “You sound just like him.”

I hide my smile behind my hand. “Well, I’m glad you’re finally joining us for a service in person. ”

She softens just a little. “Yeah, yeah. I guess it’s good to actually hear the message for once.”

I glance toward the stage where the band is setting up, adjusting mics and tuning guitars. My heart does a tiny flip when Gray steps up, his hand running along the edge of his guitar. But there’s something off. His movements are sharp, his eyes a little too focused.

“Everything ok?” Olivia asks, nudging me.

I blink, tearing my eyes away. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’re staring.”

Harper smirks. “I think that’s just her new normal now.”

I nudge her back, trying to laugh it off. “Shut up.”

The music starts, and Gray’s voice cuts through the noise, clear and steady. But there’s a hardness to it. A tension I don’t recognize. I watch his hands move along the guitar strings, the way his jaw tenses when the drummer misses a beat.

Something’s wrong.

“Wow,” Harper whispers, leaning in. “He’s really intense today.”

I nod, unable to tear my eyes away. “Yeah. He is.”

The songs flow one into the other, but Gray doesn’t settle. Normally, he’s so composed, so full of grace. But today, he looks like he’s holding something together by sheer willpower.

Olivia nudges me. “You should probably check on him after.”

“Yeah,” I say softly, my eyes flicking back to the stage. “I think I will.”

Harper scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I still say brunch is the priority.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “You and your waffles.”

“What? I’m not ashamed,” she says, folding her arms. “But seriously, you should check on him. He looks...I don’t know. Kinda...off.”

I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “I know. I see it too.”

Harper raises an eyebrow. “Guess we’re skipping waffles.”

“Not on my account,” I protest, but Harper waves it off.

“It’s fine. You go do your check-in thing, and we’ll catch up after.”

I smile, touched by her willingness to sacrifice her brunch ritual. “You’re the best.”

Harper shrugs. “I know.”

The final chord fades, and the sanctuary settles into that familiar hum of post-service chatter.

People rise from their seats, stretching, hugging, moving toward the lobby.

Harper and Olivia are already halfway to the doors, talking about where to eat, but I’m distracted—my eyes searching the stage for Gray.

He’s wrapping cords, talking to someone on the tech team, but even from here, I can see the tension still wound tight in his shoulders. Olivia’s words echo in my mind. You should probably check on him after.

I take a step forward, weaving through clusters of people. He doesn’t see me yet, and I’m halfway up the side aisle when a voice calls out.

“Ivy!”

I turn, coming face to face with a blonde I’ve seen around before.

She’s always at the events—serving at the food tables, setting up chairs, organizing things with the kind of confidence that makes you think she’s been doing it forever.

Her smile is bright, a little too perfect, and she loops her arm through mine before I can process what’s happening.

“Hey!” she chirps, squeezing my arm like we’re old friends. “I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.”

I blink, caught off guard. “Proud?”

“Yeah!” Her smile widens. “You’ve been around so much more lately. I keep seeing you at events, helping out with graphics, even coming to rehearsals. It’s inspiring.”

“Oh.” I smile, though it feels a little stiff. “Thank you.”

“I mean, it’s really good for Gray, you know?” she continues, voice dropping slightly like we’re sharing a secret. “He deserves someone strong in faith after everything he’s been through.”

My heart stutters. “What do you mean?”

Her eyebrows lift, a little too knowingly, as if I should already be in on the gossip. “Oh, you know…his past. What happened with Claire.”

I freeze. “Claire?”

Her eyes widen just slightly—fake surprise, the kind people use when they’ve said too much but don’t actually regret it. “Oh…I just assumed he’d mentioned her.”

I shake my head slowly, my voice coming out softer than I intended. “No. He hasn’t.”

She hesitates for half a beat, then shrugs like it’s nothing, though the glint in her eyes says she’s enjoying this. “Well, I’m sure he will eventually. Just…it was a lot. I’m just glad he’s found someone who’s firm in their faith. He deserves that after ev erything.”

The words land sharp, like a compliment with a hook in it.

I try to keep my expression neutral, but my mind is spinning. Who is Claire?

I want to ask her, but she’s already breezing on, oblivious—or maybe not—to the thousand questions burning a hole in my heart.

“Anyway,” she chirps, her voice too bright, patting my arm like we’re girlfriends swapping secrets. “I’m really happy for you two. You’re exactly what he needs.”

The emphasis lingers, heavy with judgment, as if she’s the authority on what Gray does and doesn’t deserve.

I nod numbly as she waves and disappears back into the crowd, leaving me frozen in the aisle, her words echoing in my ears.

What happened with Claire? Who is she? Why hasn’t he mentioned her?

Strong in faith. Grounded.

Is that how he sees me? Is that what he thinks I am? Or worse...is that what he needs me to be?

I turn back toward the stage, searching for him, but he’s gone. The tech team is coiling cables, chatting quietly as they pack up. I scan the side aisles, catching glimpses of familiar faces, but not him.

I weave through the aisles, nodding politely at people I pass, my heart thumping harder with each step. He has to be here somewhere. My feet carry me instinctively to the backstage entrance, where I hesitate just long enough to collect myself before pushing the door open.

The sound of metal strings being plucked echoes softly down the hallway. I follow the noise until I find him in one of the side rooms—guitar on his knee, fingers brushing across the frets absently. His jaw is clenched, brows knitted together, like he’s wrestling with something invisible.

He doesn’t notice me at first. He’s muttering under his breath, barely audible but thick with frustration. His hand slides up the neck of the guitar, fingers pressing down hard enough to make it squeal off-key. He curses under his breath and starts again.

“Gray?”

His head snaps up, eyes sharp with surprise before they soften. “Hey…didn’t expect you back here.”

I take a hesitant step forward. “I was looking for you. You disappeared pretty quick after service.”

He nods, setting the guitar down against the wall. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”

I move closer, crossing my arms to keep my hands from shaking. “You alright?”

He forces a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But I don’t believe him. The tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw ticks—everything about him looks wound tight.

“You don’t seem fine.” My voice comes out softer than I expect, but steadier too. “Did something happen?”

Gray shrugs, eyes darting away. “Just a long day.”

“Gray…” I try again, the knot in my chest pulling tighter. “You’ve been off since before service. Talk to me.”

His hands rake through his hair, a frustrated sigh slipping past his lips. “It’s nothing, Ivy. Really.”

The deflection stings, and for a moment I almost let it drop. Almost. But the echo of that woman’s words won’t stop rattling in my mind, and the longer he shuts me out, the louder they get.

I bite the inside of my cheek, warring with myself. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. But the question burns through anyway.

“Who’s Claire?”

The silence that follows is deafening.

The air between us shifts—sharpens. His expression goes blank for a second too long. His hands drop from the guitar, fingers curling into fists at his sides.

He blinks, his jaw tightening. “What did you say?”

I swallow, the knot in my throat growing tighter. “Claire. I…I ran into someone who mentioned her. Said she was part of your past.”

Gray’s eyes harden, and he takes a measured breath, running a hand through his hair. “Who told you that?”

I shake my head, trying to catch my breath. “Just someone I’ve seen around. I don’t even know her name. She said she was proud of me for being strong in my faith. Said…said you deserved someone like that after…after Claire.”

His jaw flexes, the muscle ticking with the pressure. He looks away, staring hard at the wall, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths.

“Gray…” I step closer, my voice softening. “Who was she?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes stay fixed on the wall, his fists unclenching slowly. “It’s not important,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped.

My heart twists. “It is if it’s bothering you.”

He sighs, running both hands through his hair now, gripping the back of his neck as if the tension there is the only thing keeping him upright. “Look…I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now.”

“But…”

He turns to me, eyes shadowed with something I can’t quite name. Regret? Pain? “Not right now, Ivy. ”