Page 105 of Dare to Hold
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?”
