“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, the words wrapping around me like armor. “Almost done, sweetheart.”
Every second feels like forever and no time at all. And then—the needle lifts. The artist leans back, wiping my skin gently.
Before I can even process it, Gray’s hand slides to my wrist, his lips pressing a soft kiss right above the fresh ink.
His eyes find mine again, his voice thick with emotion.
“Forever now, Ivy.”
And in that moment—his touch, his words, his heart so wide open—I know I’ll never forget this.
Christmas already feels like a blur—our first one together. We drove back to Ashen Mills, spent the weekend wrapped in family chaos and casseroles. Gray crashed on the couch, I stayed in the guest room, and in between the noise of nieces and nephews and the endless parade of food, we stole little moments that felt like ours. Sweet. Ordinary. The kind of ordinary that felt like a gift.
And honestly, Christmas Eve had been its own gift too. My designs for the service went up without a hitch—garlands of greenery, candlelight service, and a stage that felt warm and welcoming without being overdone. People kept stopping me to say how beautiful it looked, and for once, I didn’t second-guess it. I just let myself be proud of the work.
Now, just a week later, it’s New Year’s Eve, and the scene couldn’t be more different.
The low hum of music fills Micah’s cozy house, laughter spilling from the kitchen where someone’s trying—and failing—not to burn the queso. Someone yells for a game of charades. Someone else is handing out flimsy gold paper hats. The whole place feels alive, buzzing, like it can’t wait to tip over into midnight.
I’m tucked in the corner of the couch with Harper and Olivia, legs curled beneath me, a mug of cider warmin my hands. The three of us are nestled together on a patchwork of blankets and pillows we dragged over earlier. It feels like home—even in someone else’s living room.
“It’s hard to believe this year’s almost over,” Harper says, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“I know,” I say, exhaling slowly. “It flew.”
Olivia stretches her arms over her head with a content sigh. “It’s weird. A couple months ago I thought I was stuck, like my life was frozen in place. But now...I feel like it’s finally thawing out.”
Harper nudges her. “I’m proud of you, Liv.”
Olivia rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Don’t make it weird.”
“No promises.”
I glance at both of them, my heart full to bursting. “So...updates?”
Harper’s eyes light up first. “Okay, I’ll go. I’m actually kind of excited to go back to school after the holiday break. I miss my kids. I know they’re five and sticky and wild, but they’re mine, you know? I get to be part of their beginning.”
“That’s beautiful,” I say honestly, already knowing she’s going to be one of those teachers who changes lives.
Olivia sits up straighter. “Therapy job is still good. Hard sometimes, but good. I actually helped a kid this week process something really heavy and...I didn’t freak out. I didn’t freeze. I was just there. Present. That’s new for me.”
Harper reaches over and squeezes her arm. “That’s amazing, Liv.”
“And you?” Harper turns to me. “How’s our little church graphics queen?”
I grin. “Busy, but happy. I’m still doing my freelance work on the side, but being part of the team at church hasbeen... grounding. Like I finally stopped floating and planted some roots.”
We fall quiet for a moment, each of us wrapped in our own thoughts as a new year waits quietly on the other side of midnight.
“So,” Harper says, nudging my leg, “whose turn is it?”
I blink. “Turn for what?”
“The dare,” Olivia supplies, grinning. “We’re overdue.”
We all pause, trying to remember. Who dared who last?
“Didn’t I dare you to hold a stranger’s hand in New Orleans?” Harper jokes.
