Page 37 of Dare to Hold
“Right…so…how do I know which one is my way?”
“Well,” he says, “I personally use KJV—King James Version. It’s beautiful and poetic, but it’s also written in old English. Lots of ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ and words we don’t really use anymore. Honestly? I wouldn’t start there.”
I huff out a little laugh. “Good to know.”
“For you, I’d recommend NIV—the New International Version,” he continues. “It’s easy to read but still accurate. Flows more like the way we talk now, which makes it a lot less intimidating when you’re just starting out.”
I glance down at the Bible in my hand, then at another one that says NIV on the spine. “So basically…KJV is the gorgeous antique bookshelf piece, but NIV is the one I’ll actually understand?”
“Exactly.”
My gaze drifts back to the display of pastel highlightersand Bible tabs. “Okay…so I also got pens, sticky notes, stickers, highlighters…anything else you think I need?”
Gray’s laugh rumbles through the phone. “You’re turning Bible shopping into a full-blown Target run, aren’t you?”
“Don’t judge. If I’m committing to reading the most important book in the world, it deserves accessories.”
“Oh, I’m not judging,” he teases. “I’m just making a mental note that if you ever join a Bible study group, you’re gonna be the most prepared person in the room. Color-coded and all.”
“Obviously,” I say, grinning at the highlighters like they’ve just been promoted to VIP status. “I’m nothing if not thorough.”
His chuckle softens into something warmer, and before I can stop myself, I ask, “So…how’s your day going?”
He exhales slowly, like my voice just unraveled whatever knot he’d been carrying. “Better than it started,” he says. “A lot better now that I’m talking to you.”
The way he says it makes my pulse skip. “Smooth,” I tease, but my voice is softer than I mean it to be.
“Not trying to be,” he says. “It’s just the truth.”
I glance at the shelf in front of me, not even registering the rows of Bibles anymore. “Careful, Gray. Keep talking like that and you’re gonna make me blush in public.”
His laugh is low, warm. “I’m good with that. I’d love to see it.”
I shake my head, grinning despite myself. “You’re trouble.”
“Probably,” he admits. “But I also hold doors open and pray for you, so I’m hoping that balances things out.”
My heart does an embarrassing little flip. “That’s…not the worst kind oftrouble.”
There’s a beat of silence, the kind that feels comfortable instead of awkward, and I realize my arms are aching from everything I’m holding. “Well, I better go check out before my hands give out on me.”
He chuckles. “Go on, Sunshine. But just know—you’ve already made my day.”
We hang up, and I lean against the shelf for a second, grinning like an idiot. My arms are full of books and pens, but my heart? Full of something I’m not quite ready to name.
By the time I get home, I’m actually excited. Which feels weird. I never thought I’d be excited about buying a Bible.
I drop my bag on the couch and head straight for my desk. The shopping bag hits the surface with a satisfying thud, and I pull everything out like it’s Christmas morning—pens in every pastel shade imaginable, sticky notes in the shape of little speech bubbles, tabs that shimmer in the light, and highlighters so pretty they might just deserve their own display shelf.
I peel the plastic off each one, lining them up neatly, because if I’m going to do this, I’m going to all in.
The Bible sits in the center, still in its box. I slide it out carefully, like it might break if I move too fast. It’s heavier than I expected, the leather smooth and cool under my fingertips. I flip it open at random—Matthew. I skim the words, feeling…lost. Do I just start from page one like any other book? Or jump around? Is there a “Beginner’s Guide to Reading the Bible” section I somehow missed?
I bite my lip, tapping the page with the tip of my pen. And then it hits me—the verse from Sunday. The one Pastor Jack read when he talked about worth and grace.
“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” Matthew 6:26-27
Something about that moment flashes back—Gray, sitting across from me at lunch, his voice low when he explained mercy and grace over tacos. The way he looked at me like he saw something worth waiting for.
