I shift slightly, lifting my head from his chest with quiet reluctance. I have an early morning tomorrow, and as much as I don’t want to move, reality’s already creeping in.
Gray blinks at me with those soft, sleepy eyes, his hair adorably tousled, his expression mirroring my own.
“So…” he murmurs, voice low and rough with exhaustion, “I guess this means you’re not staying forever?”
“Tempting. But I think my landlord might notice.” I joke, laughing under my breath.
He grins and shifts just enough to prop himself up on one elbow, his hand still resting gently at my waist.
I glance down at the oversized hoodie I borrowed, smoothing a wrinkle that doesn’t really matter. “So…are you ready for tomorrow night?”
Gray’s eyes flick to mine, steady and calm. “Yeah. More than ready.”
“What songs did you end up picking?” I ask, curious.
His whole expression brightens, like this is the part he’s been waiting for. “We’re starting with Living Hope—it always sets the tone. Then Run to the Father—I feel like people need that reminder. And…” He pauses, a little grin tugging at his mouth. “We’re debuting something new. A song I wrote.”
I sit up straighter. “Seriously?”
He nods, the grin softening into something more thoughtful. “It’s been on my heart for months. I just…I can’t wait to see how Jesus uses it. The whole night—it’s not about us. It’s about what He’s going to do in that room.”
The conviction in his voice sends a shiver through me. I love this part of him—the way he talks about faith like it’s not just belief.
“Sounds like it’s going to be powerful,” I say quietly.
He shrugs.. “That’s the prayer. That people walk out changed.”
For a while we just sit there in the hush of his apartment, the TV screen dark, the air between us steady. My head rests against his shoulder, and I can hear the even rhythm of his breathing.
Finally, I stand. “I’ve got an early morning, I should get home.”
He groans and leans back against the couch, armsstretched over his head. “You make goodbyes feel like punishment.”
I laugh softly as I slip on my shoes, heart still thudding in my chest from everything we just said—and everything we didn’t have to.
But as I grab my keys and head for the door, his voice stops me.
“Wait, Ivy.”
I turn, brows lifting. “Yeah?”
He stands, running a hand through his hair like he’s a little nervous. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to do. If you’re okay with it.”
I step a little closer, curiosity blooming in my chest. “What is it?”
He looks me straight in the eyes. “I’d like to pray over us. Our relationship. Just…ask God to be in it. Would that be okay?”
Emotion rises in my throat so fast I can barely speak.
I nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
He takes both of my hands in his, and we stand there in the soft glow of the kitchen light, hearts wide open.
Gray closes his eyes and exhales, then begins quietly, his voice low and tender.
“God, thank You for Ivy. For the way You brought her into my life. I don’t take that lightly. I ask that You’d guide us as we grow closer—to You and to each other. Help us to love well. To honor You with every step we take. And to be brave, even when it’s scary. Thank You for this—whatever this turns out to be. We trust You with it.”
By the time he finishes, my eyes are wet.
