A gentle reminder that I’m seen.
That He’s still writing.
Chapter 23
Ivy
I should be asleep.
The worship night ended hours ago. My makeup is long gone, my hair’s a mess, and my feet still ache from standing—but I can’t stop replaying everything in my mind.
The music. The message. The moment Gray kissed me in front of everyone.
I trace my fingers over my lips, still feeling the ghost of it.
I tuck the blanket tighter around my shoulders and sit up in bed, the glow of the streetlight outside casting faint patterns across my ceiling.
I should feel whole right now. Joyful. At peace.
And I do. Kind of.
But also—I don’t.
Because the truth is, I wasn’t completely honest with Gray tonight. Even when we talked on the phone earlier.
He looked so alive after worship. He ran to me like I was part of it. Like he wanted to share that mountaintop moment with me.
And I let him believe I felt it too.
I did feel something. Absolutely.
But not in the way he probably thinks.
It wasn’t just the music or the message or the packed sanctuary.
It was that song. His song.
The way the lyrics spoke directly to parts of me I didn’t know were still bleeding. The line about not having to earn your place with God. About Him having arms wide open, giving me rest, not waiting till I had it all together. It hit me like a wave.
I nearly told him that.
Nearly said, “I felt like that song was written for me. Like it was peeling something open that I’ve kept hidden for a long time.”
But I didn’t.
Because saying that felt too…intimate.
Too much.
Like if I admitted it, I’d be crossing a line from interested in God to all in.
And I don’t know if I’m ready to be all in yet.
What if I say too much and disappoint Gray?
What if I open up and it changes the way he sees me?
What if he finds out I’m still half-lost and doesn’t want to stick around to help me find the rest?
