Page 89 of Wicked Serve

“Isabelle,” he says again.

“You know what I’m talking about.” A tear runs down my cheek. I wipe it away roughly. “Don’t act like you don’t.”

He stands too, reaching out as if to give me a hug. I turn, shaking my head.

“I’ve never been enough.” My brittle voice cracks on the words. “Not for you, not for our family.”

He sighs heavily, the lines on his face more pronounced, somehow. “Darling—”

“You’ve accomplished everything you ever set out to do,” I interrupt, my voice gaining strength. “James followed in your footsteps, and Cooper is massively talented, and Sebastian has this whole new passion to explore, and I’m just... here. Failing.” I sniffle. “Don’t deny it.”

His shoulders sag; something flickers in his eyes. “Isabelle, I’ve never once... All I care about is your happiness.”

“You care about us being the best.”

“Your best. Not the best.”

I shake my head tightly.

“Yes,” he insists. “Come here, honey. Please.”

I can’t bring myself to step closer, but I don’t protest when he wraps me in a hug. I shut my eyes, trying to breathe.

“Not enough?” I make a soft noise. I feel him shake his head. “It breaks my heart to hear you say that. Our family wouldn’t be complete without you. And that has nothing to do with volleyball.”

“But I failed,” I whisper.

“You made a mistake, one that you can learn from and move on. That’s all it is.” He strokes my hair. “Do you remember what you told me when you started playing?”

“Not really.”

“You were so excited.” He eases away, meeting my eyes. “You said that you had so much fun, and that you just made friends with a girl named Victoria, and that you wanted a pink volleyball, if they made them.”

“I remember the pink volleyball.”

He laughs softly. “I think I got you half a dozen, just in case.”

“Because you could tell I had a shot to be good at a sport, finally.”

“Because I could tell you really loved it,” he says, voice gentle but firm. “And I remember being so thrilled—not because you found a sport to play, but because you found something you loved to do, and made friends doing it. I would’ve felt the same if it was theater or art or, I don’t know, pickleball.”

I smile despite myself. Just a little, wobbly with emotion. I tried out a lot of other hobbies—the summer of piano was torture to everyone’s ears, I’m sure—but volleyball stuck like nothing else.

“What if... I don’t want to do spring league?”

He considers that. “Because of your coach?”

I shake my head, tucking my hair behind my ears. “Bex asked me to plan her wedding, and I think I’d rather focus on that. At least for now. She’ll pay me and everything, and apparently Katherine already said she’d help.”

“Darling, that’s wonderful,” he says, the concern vanishing from his face.

“Really?”

“That sounds like an excellent plan to me.” He gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re allowed to take a breather. And you’re allowed to stop if that’s what ends up working best for you. Play again if you still love it, but don’t do it for me.”

I search his face, even though I can sense the truthfulness in his words.

“You promise?”

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