Page 69 of Dare to Hold
And for the first time all day, I exhale. This isn’t just pixels on a screen—it’s someone’s dream, and I get to help bring it to life.
I select the files, attach them to an email, and hit send.
A quiet thrill runs through me. I did it.
The sound of the whoosh as the email leaves my outbox feels final. I sink back into the couch and sip the now-cold coffee beside me. It's gross, but I don’t care.
Because the project is done. I put the flowers in a vase. And there’s a boy who makes me feel like maybe I’m not so hard to love after all.
I lean back into the couch and let my gaze wander to theflowers again. They’re a little uneven, a little wild, like they were picked with more heart than coordination. Which makes them perfect.
Just like this morning.
It started with coffee, of course. I was still half-asleep and somehow poured creamer into both mugs before I remembered—Gray takes his black. I started apologizing, but he just took a sip, smiled, and said, “Tastes like dessert. I’m not mad.”
Then he poured us both a second cup.
And when my stomach rumbled loud enough to echo off the walls, I’d winced, embarrassed. “I, um, don’t really have anything to eat. Only cereal.”
He grinned like it was the best news he’d heard all day.
Ten minutes later, we were side by side on my couch, knees brushing, two mismatched bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in our hands. Mine was in a soup bowl. His was in a Christmas mug with a chipped handle. We didn’t care.
It was easy. Effortless.
We talked between bites about everything and nothing. I asked him if he was from Dallas and he shrugged, like the answer still surprised him.
“Colorado, originally,” he said, tilting his spoon through the milk. “I ended up here after a tour with a band I used to be in.”
“A band?”
“Metal,” he added with a grin, like he already knew how ridiculous it might sound to me. “I was the lead vocalist. Screamed a lot, wore way too much black. It was a whole vibe.”
I laughed so hard I nearly choked. “Please tell me there are pictures.”
He groaned but couldn’t hide his smile. “Unfortunately,yes. And believe it or not, Micah can play guitar. Him and my buddy Chris will drag me out sometimes to play at random bars. We mix in Christian stuff here and there—it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s fun. Keeps the glory days alive without the bad eyeliner.”
He told me Dallas was supposed to be a stop, not a destination. But something about the city and the warmth, the people, the second chances—made him stay. “It just…felt like home.”
Then, softer, he mentioned his mom. Said he only sees her once a year, by choice. And when I opened my mouth to ask more, he just shook his head.
“It’s okay,” he said gently, like he knew I was curious but didn’t want to make it heavy. “I’ve got good boundaries now. God’s been kind in that.”
He didn’t mention his dad. Not once. But I noticed.
And I didn’t push.
He stayed on my couch like it was the most natural thing in the world. He laughed at my dumb jokes, held my gaze like he saw everything I was still afraid to show.
It was nothing big.
But it felt like everything.
Chapter 18
Ivy
The past two weeks have slipped by in a blur. Somehow, it’s already August—which means Harper is back to work at the school. My phone buzzes less now without her constant texts about being bored or asking if we want to hit the mall “just to browse.”
