Her smile curves slow. “Fine. I’ll come.”
On the drive back, she slips her hand into mine, her fingers fitting like they’ve been there all along. I keep my palm resting against hers on the console, letting my thumb brush over the top of her hand. When I do, I catch the way goosebumps chase up her arm. Not from the A/C—no, this is something else entirely. And I can’t stop doing it, just to see her pretend she’s not affected.
We pull up outside her apartment, but neither of us moves right away. “Thanks for breakfast,” she says softly, still holding my hand.
“Thanks for letting me watch you put sugar in your coffee like you were defusing a bomb,” I tease, grinning.
She rolls her eyes but grins back, finally letting go. “See you tomorrow?”
I nod, holding her gaze. “Bright and early. And Ivy?”
“Yeah?”
“You look really good in my morning.”
She laughs, then leans in to kiss my cheek—quick, warm, and over far too soon. “See you tomorrow, Gray.”
She hesitates for a heartbeat in the open doorway, like she might say something else, but instead she smiles and slips inside. I sit there a moment longer, my hand going to the spot where her lips touched, and all I can think is, I’m in trouble.
Chapter 12
Ivy
The church feels almost unfamiliar without Sunday’s energy.
For one, it’s a lot quieter. It’s also less polished. The echoes aren’t of people shuffling into their seats, but of guitar strums from rehearsal and the faint echo of someone testing a mic. It feels almost...intimate. Like I’m peeking behind the curtain of something top secret.
Gray invited me to stop by rehearsal, but the second I stepped into the lobby, nerves hit me like a wall. This isn’t a service. There are no crowds to disappear into. No rows of people to blend into the background. Just, him. His people. His job.
And I don’t want to mess it up. Walking into his world and meeting his colleagues.
I clutch my tote bag a little tighter as I wander past the welcome desk. The lights are dimmed and there’s a soft hum of conversation coming from the sanctuary, peppered with the occasional burst of laughter.
I peek through the side door.
Gray is up front, talking to a man with a headset. He’swearing a plain black tee and jeans with a guitar slung over his shoulder like it’s another limb on his body. He doesn’t see me yet. But I sure do see him.
He’s completely in his element. Confident and focused, not performing, but more like leading. His fingers brush over the strings as he talks, absentmindedly plucking out quiet chords that hum through the speakers. I watch his hands, the way they move like they’re sure of every note.
I hesitate, gripping the door handle, half-thinking I should turn around before I interrupt whatever this is. But before I can fully talk myself out of it, I push the door open and step inside.
The music softens and his eyes flick up, catching mine instantly. His whole face brightens, that familiar grin spreading across his lips.
“Hey you!” His voice instantly warms me. “You made it.”
I shrug, trying not to sound too eager. “Figured I’d drop in and get a little behind the scenes look.”
He laughs and waves me up to the stage. “This is the team. Everyone—this is Ivy.”
A chorus of smiles and waves greets me. One guy near the back adjusts the lights and gives me a polite nod and a few introduce themselves. There’s an easy energy in the room, like they’ve been doing this together for years. Like it’s home for them.
“You can sit anywhere,” Gray says. “We’re just running through the setlist for tomorrow.”
I nod and try to look casual as I step off the stage and slide into a seat a few rows back. The music swells, their voices blending into harmonies that feel like they’re warming the empty spaces.
That’s when I hear it.
A faint, frustrated sigh drifts above the music. I glance at the woman sitting in front of me, hunched over her laptop, shoulders tight, lips pressed together like she’s seconds from snapping the laptop shut.
