Her expression softens. “I just…want to understand. That man knew you.”
“Yeah,” I admit, my throat tight. “He did. And that’s the problem.”
She tilts her head, waiting.
I rub my hands together, the motion restless. “Grayson is my full name. Always has been. But it’s not who I am anymore. When I finally moved to Dallas—when I finally gave my life to Jesus—I left Grayson behind. Started going by Gray.”
She doesn’t interrupt, just nods like she’s listening with every piece of herself.
I swallow hard, pushing the words out before they can choke me. “That guy back there…he wasn’t some old friend. He was one of my dealers. Back when I was with the band, we spent a couple months in Austin during a tour break. Three months, give or take. And in those three months, I saw him more than I should’ve ever seen anybody.”
Her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t speak. I keep going.
“I wasn’t strung out the way the rest of the guys were,” I say quickly, almost defensively. “But I wasn’t innocent either. I drank too much. Smoked too much. Got high when I wanted to forget who I was for a night. And Grayson…” I shake my head, jaw tightening. “Grayson was the guy who made those calls. Who went looking for numb instead of healing. Who couldn’t say no.”
The silence stretches heavy between us. My pulse hammers as I wait for the disgust, the judgment, the step back that says she finally sees what I’ve always known—I’m not good enough for her.
Instead, Ivy’s hand slips over mine. Gentle. Steady. Her thumb brushes across my skin, anchoring me. “And Gray?” she asks softly.
I blink at her. “Yeah?”
She tilts her head. “If Grayson was the one running to numb, then who’s Gray?”
Something loosens in my chest. I look down at our joined hands, her fingers small against mine. “Gray is the man who walked into a church hungover and furious and still heard God calling his name. The man who finally stopped running.”
Her eyes shimmer, but it’s not pity I see there. It’s pride. Maybe even admiration.
I let out a breath that shakes on the way out. “I switched to Gray because I needed the reminder. Needed to hear something different when people said my name. Something that didn’t drag me back to the boy I was. I guess it was my way of drawing a line in the sand—past on one side, new life on the other.”
She squeezes my hand tighter. “Gray fits you,” she whispers. “Not because you’re hiding, but because you’re new. And I love that you chose to live in that truth.”
Her words hit deeper than I expect. I swallow hard, blinking up at the trees overhead, because if I look at her too long I might lose it completely.
“That guy back there…” I shake my head. “He’s a ghost from a world I don’t want to touch again. And the way he said my name—Grayson—it felt like he was pulling me backward. Like he wanted me to wear it again.”
“But you don’t,” Ivy says firmly. “You’re not that man anymore.”
I finally meet her gaze, and everything else falls away. No ghosts. No chains. Just her eyes steady on mine, reminding me of who I am now.
A slow breath fills my lungs, steadier than before. “No. I’m not.”
She leans her head against my shoulder, and I let myself rest there too. The park hums around us—kids laughing, a dog barking, the scrape of skateboard wheels on concrete—but for once, the noise doesn’t press in. It fades. Because with her here, with her hand in mine, the past feels a little farther away.
I press a kiss to the top of her hair, whispering the truth I couldn’t have said an hour ago. “I’m Gray. And I’m not going back.”
Chapter 29
Ivy
It’s been two weeks since I’ve been truly alone with Gray.
Sure, we’ve hung out—almost daily, actually. But always with friends. Always in public. Always with that invisible line drawn between us like a boundary we both agreed to.
I hate it.
And I get it.
I really do.
