I spin in a circle, breath catching in my throat.
Where is he?
And then I see him.
Across the room. Moving fast. Eyes scanning. Chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile.
Searching.
For me.
“Gray!” I call, voice trembling.
His head snaps toward me.
And everything else disappears.
He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t stop. He runs.
So do I.
I weave past a woman with a stroller, duck around a couple taking a photo, barely miss knocking a kid to the ground.
And then…
We collide in the middle of it all.
His arms wrap around me before I can say a word, pulling me into his chest like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.
I clutch his shoulders, burying my face against his neck, and I don’t care who sees or what they think. The tears come all over again—laughter and relief tangled together.
“I saw you,” he whispers, voice rough against my ear. “I saw your hand. Ivy…”
“I couldn’t wait,” I whisper back. “I had to find you.”
His hands frame my face, his forehead resting against mine, both of us breathless in the middle of the chaos.
“You found so much more than me tonight,” he says softly.
I nod, the smile breaking through the tears. “I know. But I still needed you too.”
We hold each other there, steady in the swirl around us.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m running to catch up or running to prove I belong.
I’m just home.
Chapter 37
Gray
The drive was mostly quiet.
Ivy held my hand the whole way, her fingers laced through mine like they belonged there. Like we’d made it through something only God could’ve carried us through.
Now we’re here. The overlook.
I’ve brought her here a few times before, but tonight is different. Everything’s changed and the stars are truly brighter, the view deeper, and somehow, so is my heart.
