Page 8 of Dare to Hold (Dare To Love #1)

Ivy

Gray is sitting across from me. In my coffee shop. The one I go to almost every freaking day. And he lives in the same city I do. All this time, he’s been so close.

The past three months have been devastating.

Not in some dramatic, world-ending way. But in a quiet, aching kind of way.

Like a piece of me got left behind in that New Orleans coffee shop.

Like no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

His voice. That slow, amused smile. The way his hand fit perfectly in mine, even if it was just for a dare.

I told myself it was just a moment. But it stuck with me. He stuck with me.

And now, he’s here. Real. Solid. Looking at me like he remembers it all too.

His voice cuts through my internal spiral. “What are you thinking, Ivy?”

I blink, snapping back to the present. “That I can’t believe this is real.”

He smiles gently. “It is.”

I hesitate, then ask the question that’s been lingering at the back of my mind since he first sat down. “You’re not going to just disappear again, are you?”

He sits back, the smile softening, his thumb brushing along the edge of his coffee cup like he needs something to do with his hands. “I didn’t disappear, Ivy. You went back home. I went back home. Turns out, home was the same place.”

I press my lips together, absorbing that. “Feels like the universe has a sense of humor.”

One corner of his mouth lifts, but his gaze drops to the table for a beat before meeting mine again. “Or maybe God’s just a fan of plot twists.”

I glance down at my coffee, trying not to grin.

He shifts in his seat, biting his lower lip for the briefest second before leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. “So, would you ever come to church with me?” His voice is light, but there’s something tentative underneath it, like he’s testing the waters. “That was a serious offer.”

Of course he would say that. I mean, he’s on the worship team.

It’s kind of his thing. Still, the question catches me off guard.

Not in a bad way, just…it’s unfamiliar territory.

Church wasn’t something we ever did growing up.

It’s not that I’m against it. I just don’t know how to believe in something I’ve never been part of.

I raise an eyebrow. “You really want me to come?”

“Yes.” His smile is easy, but I catch the way his fingers drum against his leg before he steadies them on the table. “Come for the music. Stay for the message. Have lunch with me after.”

I fold my arms. “That’s a pretty strategic invite.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying, you won’t regret it.”

I study him for a moment, then finally nod. “Okay. Sure. I’ll come.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls out his phone. “Can I get your number?”

I rattle it off while he types it in, just as a calendar notification pops up on my screen. I glance at the time.

“I’ve got a Zoom meeting in a few minutes,” I say, the words catching in my throat. I don’t want this to end, not when we just found each other again.

“I should get going anyway,” he says, though his eyes linger on mine. “Rehearsal.”

“Guess this is goodbye again.”

“Not goodbye,” he says, standing up. His voice is lower now—smooth, warm, like honey poured slow. “Just ‘see you soon.’ I’m holding you to that lunch after church.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “You’re confident.”

He hovers over the table, close enough that I catch the faint scent of his cologne. His voice dips just for me. “Only about the things that matter.”

It’s ridiculous, the way those simple words can set my pulse racing. Heat blooms low in my chest, curling into my stomach until I’m shifting in my seat, suddenly aware of every inch of space—or lack of it—between us. My fingers grip my coffee cup like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.

Because this isn’t just playful banter. There’s weight in his tone, something steady and unshakable that makes me want to believe him…about everything.

And I hate that part of me already does.

The bell above the door jingles as he steps out, tugging at the collar of his black leather jacket like it’s second nature. Broad shoulders, easy strides. Every step is deliberate, like he owns the ground under his boots. In the dim morning light, he looks dark and untouchable, almost dangerous.

Almost.

Because I know better.

The man who just walked out isn’t some brooding stranger with a secret past—though, judging by the way he wears that jacket, he could pull it off.

He’s a worship pastor. The guy who sings about grace and love and a God I’ve never known.

That still throws me. I wouldn’t have guessed it in a million years when I met him in New Orleans.

But now? Now I can’t unsee the contradiction—leather and light, mystery and ministry.

My eyes track him through the café window as he crosses the street, my pulse tripping over itself like a lovesick fool. He pushes a hand through his hair, glances over his shoulder once, and I’m gone—completely lost in a daydream that’s one breath away from embarrassing.

And then—ding.

My laptop springs to life with a notification, snapping me out of the fantasy. My Zoom meeting is starting.

Reluctantly, I drag my gaze away from the window, slip on my headphones, and try to remember how to function like a normal human being. But it’s useless.

The Zoom meeting takes entirely too long.

Normally, I wouldn’t mind helping a small business fine-tune the graphics for their upcoming event. But this particular client was…passionate. And by passionate, I mean she changed her mind about the font choice six times .

After an hour of painstakingly adjusting colors, repositioning elements, and watching her circle right back to the original layout I presented at the beginning, I’m absolutely drained.

Before I even push back from the table inside the coffee shop, I grab my phone and fire off a desperate message to the group chat with Harper and Olivia.

Ivy

SOS. When can y’all video chat?

As I step out into the crisp fall air, my phone immediately starts buzzing with responses.

Olivia

I’m free in 15.

Harper

If you’re headed to jail, I call dibs on bailing you out.

I laugh, actually laugh, as I type back.

Ivy

Meet in 15. You’re not ready for this.

My heart is still buzzing from coffee, from Gray, from the fact that he wants to see me again.

I’m barely through the door of my apartment when my phone starts ringing with the video call.

I kick off my shoes, toss my bag on the couch, and plop down in the middle of the living room floor like I’m about to deliver national news.

Two familiar faces light up my screen: Olivia curled up on her bed in full gossip mode and Harper already munching on popcorn like she knows this is gonna be good .

Harper leans in first. “Okay. Spill. You’re glowing, which either means you met a man or finally found the perfect throw pillows for your apartment.”

“Definitely not pillows,” I say, biting my lip.

Olivia gasps and claps her hands. “Girl, don’t make us drag it out of you.”

“Okay, okay!” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “You remember that guy from the dare? The hand-holding guy in New Orleans?”

Harper nearly chokes on her popcorn. “THE dare guy?! Tattooed mystery man?! He’s back?!”

“He’s not just back,” I say slowly, enjoying the suspense. “He’s here. As in, lives in this city. I ran into him today. At Royal Brew.”

They both scream. I have to pull the phone away from my face.

“No. Freaking. Way,” Harper says. “What are the odds?”

“I know, right?” I say, flopping back onto the rug. “Apparently he’s been living here this whole time. And get this, he asked me to come watch him sing.”

“Oh my gosh, he’s in a band?” Olivia asks.

“Technically, he is a worship leader at his church.”

Dead silence.

Then…

“You’re going to church now?!” Harper shouts. “How fun! I used to go all the time growing up, but that’s beside the point.”

“I mean, maybe?” I say, my voice going way higher than normal. “He made it sound like a free concert. With lunch after.”

Harper grins. “Lunch with him after, I assume?”

“Obviously,” I mutter, hiding my face behind a pillow .

Olivia raises a brow. “This seems too good to be true.”

“Tall, dark, handsome, tattooed and he sings about Jesus?” Harper nearly squeals, “It may seem too good to be true, but this is perfect for you Ivy!”

I can’t help but laugh. “I still can’t believe I ran into him.”

Harper leans closer to the screen. “This Sunday, right?”

“Yeah” I say, the nerves beginning to well up inside me again. “I mean, I’ve never even been to church. What if I have no idea what I’m doing?”

Olivia shrugs. “You’ll be fine. Just nod when everyone else nods. And maybe don’t yell ‘Amen’ unless you’re super sure.”

Harper adds, “Wear something cute but holy. In both senses.”

I roll my eyes and laugh, but my heart is still jumping like it’s on a trampoline. “I don’t know what this is, but it feels like something.”

They all go quiet for a second.

Then Harper smiles. “Ivy, this is definitely fate.”

After hanging up with the girls, I toss my phone onto the couch and let out a long, dramatic sigh. My apartment is quiet. Too quiet after the chaos of group chat laughter and teasing.

Sunlight filters through the sheer curtains, casting warm patterns on the hardwood floors.

My place is small, just a one-bedroom with a kitchen that’s way too tiny for anyone who actually cooks, which I don’t, but it’s mine.

With thrifted wall art, mismatched furniture and a candle on the coffee table that smells like cinnamon and nostalgia. It’s cozy and safe.

I curl up on the couch, pulling my favorite blanket over my lap, and stare up at the ceiling .

Church.

He asked me to church.

It’s not that I’m against it or anything. I just, don’t know anything about it. What if I stand when I’m supposed to sit? Or sing the wrong words? Or everyone there can tell I don’t belong?

What if it’s weird?

Worse, what if I don’t like it?

My phone buzzes next to me.

Unknown Number

You looked really pretty today. I can’t wait to see you again this weekend.

My heart does this ridiculous skip-jump like it’s auditioning for a rom-com.

It’s him.

Gray.

Before I can even process how to respond, another message comes through.

Gray

I promise I’m not stalking you. But I did pray we’d run into each other again, so technically this is God’s fault.

I actually squeal. Out loud.

Then immediately slap a pillow over my face.

I can’t. I literally cannot with him.

He’s flirty and sweet and sarcastic and somehow, has managed to leave me speechless more than once.

I stare at the screen, cheeks burning, grinning like a fool while I read his text messages over and over again.