Page 152 of Wicked Serve

Izzy

“Want to get drinks with us later?” Brooklyn asks me as we corral the volleyballs strewn around the court into a mesh bag. “Celebrate the end of the semester?”

I kick a volleyball to her as I scoop two into my arms. For our last spring league meeting, we just listened to music and played a few casual sets, laughing and chatting the whole time. Brooklyn and the other seniors didn’t give big speeches about how much they’ll miss us, but I wonder how they feel. If they’re happy with how their college volleyball careers went.

Despite everything going on, nothing sounds better than unwinding for an evening. Nik would be proud to hear I’m taking a break.

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

“The wedding is next week, right? You must be so excited.”

“I’d be more excited if the landscapers would finish transplanting the dogwoods.”

“Izzy?” Coach Alexis calls from the entryway to the gym. “Can we talk?”

Brooklyn raises an eyebrow. “I’ll finish up here. Wear purple tonight.”

I wipe my palms on my shorts as I follow Alexis out of the gym. Aside from a few short conversations, I’ve kept my distance from her. She said all she needed to say at the end of last semester, and it’s not like spring league wins you bonus points.

“Your blocking is improving,” she says, holding open the door to her office. “I’ve noticed that.”

“Oh, thanks.” I perch on the end of the chair in front of her desk.

She sits back, crossing one leg over the other. “I’ve noticed you’ve been volunteering at Moorbridge High School, too. I don’t think they expected actual volleyball players from the university to show up.”

“It’s been fun.” I’m not sure of her angle, so I just add, “Rewarding, too. At first, only a couple of kids showed up, but now we have enough players to do actual matches.”

“That’s what they’re hoping to do in the fall,” she says. “They’re planning to hold tryouts and everything, put together a team.”

I smile. Joana will be so excited. “That’s great.”

“And they’re hoping that we’ll continue to be involved, of course.” She lifts an eyebrow. “You could have a future in coaching.”

That’s a nerve-racking—if not entirely unappealing—thought. “I definitely want to keep volunteering.”

“That’s good to hear.” She drums her nails on her desktop. “I have to admit that I underestimated you, Izzy. Spring league, the volunteering—it would have been easier to stay away. Especially since I was so hard on you last season. Harder than I should have been.”

I blink with surprise. I volunteered at the high school for myself, and went to spring league for my teammates, but I didn’t expect her to notice any of it.

“I still love volleyball.” I throw back my shoulders, meeting her gaze. “And wherever you want to play me next year, I’ll be excited to tackle it.”

“I know you will.” She gives me a long look. “What about setter?”

As soon as the door shuts behind me, I press my hand to my mouth, jumping in place. I meant what I said, but there’s no way in hell I’d turn down a starting position at setter. I have to call my parents. Nik is going to be so excited.

Nik.

I deflate. Normally, I’d leave ten texts in a row without a thought, but we still haven’t spoken. I pause in the hallway, pulling up our text thread for what feels like the billionth time. That last game—the last time I watched him play hockey in person instead of on the television—I texted to let him know I was almost at the rink. I even included a dumb little heart emoji.

I stare at it. It’s so normal, so boring and presumptuous.

If I texted him, would he answer? If I called, would he pick up the phone?

The first time he left without saying goodbye, I thought it was final. So much has changed since then. I didn’t love him then. I hadn’t yet given him my heart for safekeeping. But by then, he’d taken that photograph of me. He’d already called me his favorite.

I type out a text, but I can’t make myself press send. He has a game later. He’s probably deep in pregame mode.

Then I see three little dots.

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