Page 121 of Dare to Hold
I feel the weight of his gaze, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
“You don’t have to be perfect to be baptized,” he adds. “That’s kind of the whole point.”
I look down at our joined hands, his thumb still brushing over mine. I know he means well. I know this is Gray—steadfast, sincere, full of conviction.
But suddenly, it all feels like too much.
I pull my hand back slowly, folding it into my lap. “I just need more time.”
The silence that falls between us isn’t cold—but it isn’t comfortable either.
Gray nods, eyes flicking to his coffee. “Okay. I get it.”
But I wonder if he really does.
Because there’s a flicker of something in his expression. Not disappointment exactly. More like...fear. Like maybe I’m slipping away.
He’s been here before—I can feel it.
“I’m not trying to push,” he says quietly. “I’ve just...I’ve done that before. Expected too much. And it didn’t end well.”
My chest aches. “I know.” Even though it’s partly a lie.
He meets my eyes again, and something softens there. “I just want you to know you’re safe here. With me. No matter how long it takes.”
I nod, blinking fast. “Thank you.”
The silence between us this time is gentler. Like maybe we’re both trying to find the edges of each other’s wounds—and learning not to press too hard.
Chapter 30
Gray
The silence in my truck is deafening.
I can still feel the way she hugged me goodnight—quick, stiff, her eyes darting anywhere but mine. No lingering smile. No soft moment at the car door like usual. Just a polite “thanks for tonight” before she slid inside and shut the door a little too fast.
And I knew. Right then, I knew I’d blown it.
I’d let all the things I wanted for her come tumbling out like a flood I couldn’t hold back. Word vomit. That’s what it was. My zeal drowning out her pace, my urgency silencing the quiet way God’s been working in her heart.
I took control.
Before I even turn the key, I bow my head for just a second, hands resting on the steering wheel.Lord, help me see her heart the way You do. Help me not get in the way of whatever You’re doing. Please…guide me.
I’ve got the windows cracked, hoping the cool air will knock some sense into me, but all it’s doing is making my knuckles tighter around the steering wheel.
What just happened?
I replay the breakfast conversation over and over—every word, every breath. The way Ivy’s voice faltered when I brought up baptism. The way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes when I told her I she was my person. The way she slowly pulled her hand out of mine, like she didn’t even realize she was doing it.
I meant every word I said. I don’t regret telling her how I feel.
But I pushed. I pushed.
And I felt it—the moment she started to retreat.
I thump my head back against the seat at a red light, exhaling hard. “Come on, man,” I mutter. “You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again.”
