Page 17 of Dare to Hold
Your hand in mine like a spark in the dark
Something, an invisible force, a magnetic pull, draws me forward.
Three months, and I’ve thought about her every single day. I’d be mid-song on a Sunday morning and catch myself picturing the way she laughed in New Orleans, the way she tilted her head when she was trying not to smile. I can still see her standing in the middle of that crowded street—confident and shy all at once—and how I couldn’t stop staring at her lips, fighting the urge to close the distance right then and there.
I told myself it was just a moment. One of those once-in-a-lifetime encounters you look back on but never get to repeat. But here she is.
And I’m not the kind of man who believes God wastes moments like this.
Before I realize it, I’m standing at her table. Then, without thinking, without asking, I sit down across from her.
Silence stretches between us, thick with something unspoken.
She’s real. She’s here.
And this time, I’m not letting her go.
I lean forward, resting my forearms on the small café table, still trying to convince myself this moment is real.
Ivy blinks a few times, like she’s doing the same. Then, slowly, a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Gray?”
“Hey, you.” The words slip out softer than I mean them to, like any louder might shatter the moment and send her disappearing.
She exhales a breathy laugh and shakes her head. “I—I can’t believe it’s you.”
“Believe it.” My mouth curves into a smirk, my confidence kicking in. “Unless you regularly run into guys you once picked up on a dare?”
She groans, covering her face for a second before peeking at me through her fingers. “Oh boy, you’re never gonna let that go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Her laugh is soft but full of warmth, and something about it makes my chest feel lighter. It’s been three months, but sitting across from her now, it’s like no time has passed.Like my world just realigned into the place it was supposed to be all along.
She stirs her coffee absentmindedly, her eyes dancing over my face. “What are you doing here?”
“Getting coffee,” I tease, taking a slow sip of mine.
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“I live here.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “You live…in Dallas?”
“Yeah. Been here a couple years. And you?”
“I live here too.” She shakes her head, laughing. “I can’t believe this.”
She’s been here this whole time. Three months of aching, dreaming of a possibly impossible future and she was here.
“You and me both.”
She tilts her head, studying me. “You look good.”
“So do you,” I say, my voice dropping just slightly.
“You are wearing a leather jacket.”
“I am.” I let out a laugh. “Just for you.”
