Page 124 of Wicked Serve

She shakes her head. “I told everyone I could do it.”

“You’re still doing it.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’ve all seen how hard you’re working. You’re doing a great job.”

“I’m not,” she whispers. “I’m failing, Nik. And I can’t fail again. Not at this.”

I study her. She looks utterly exhausted, hair hanging limp, face devoid of makeup. Not that she needs to wear it, of course, but usually she prefers to at least put on mascara. She’s in yesterday’s sweater, and when I glance at the island, I take in the empty coffee cups, plural. I knew she was busy—it would be impossible not to notice—but I didn’t realize just how strung out she was.

“Fail again?”

She swipes her eyes. “You know what I mean. Volleyball turned into a mess. I can’t fail at my own brother’s wedding, too. But between that and school and volunteering and everything else, there’s just barely any time, and now I’m making mistakes, and it’s just... I don’t even know.”

Shit. I’m the one who brought up the idea of volunteering, and of course that was just another thing on top of the pile. It’s been good for her—she’s full of energy and stories whenever she comes back from the high school—but that doesn’t mean it’s not a commitment. Add in spring league, and classwork, and the massive to-do list for the wedding that never seems to get smaller, and it’s no wonder she’s a ball of stress.

“If it’s too much with spring league and all of that, maybe you can take a step back.”

“I want to be doing it,” she says, an edge to her voice. “All of it. But you know what I have to prove with the wedding. To your mom, to my family.”

“Mom already loves you.”

“My original internship with her wasn’t something I got on my own.”

“So?”

“I want to work for her, but because I earned it.”

“You’ve already—”

“And my family.” She takes in a shuddering breath. “I know they say it doesn’t matter what I do, but it matters to me, okay? I need them to see I can do this. I... I need to see that I can do this. For myself.”

“Okay.” I pause, trying to figure out what would get through to her. “You’re already showing that you can do it. But asking for help isn’t a bad thing. Let my mom help you with the permits and whatever else you’ve been stressing over. You need a break.”

“Weren’t you just sick with the flu and begging to go to the rink?”

I wince. “I get it, Isabelle. But it was the right move, taking a rest.”

Maybe it’s the acknowledgment that she was right—slowing down hockey for a couple days wasn’t the end of the world—but she softens.

“Why don’t you call my mom, get her input on the permits, and I’ll draw you a bath.”

When she’s safely tucked away in a bubble bath with a glass of iced tea and her iPad, so she can catch up on Love Island, I take a breath. Mom was happy to work on the permits, of course, but Isabelle needs more support than that. Large-scale event planning is hard, and has so many more moving pieces than anyone ever thinks about. I don’t want her to get so wound up that any setback will cause a meltdown like this. It’s spring break, so at least classwork can wait, but knowing her, she’ll just use it as time to get ahead on her to-do list.

One of the stuffed animals on her bed catches my eye. A little koala.

She needs a real break. An acknowledgement of how hard she’s working, and a reset.

And I have the perfect idea.

I sit on the edge of the bed next to Isabelle. She’s still fast asleep, buried underneath her pink comforter. I can’t see much but her dark hair and yellow-and-white striped nails, still holding her phone. Even though she followed the bath with a nap, she worked on stuff for the wedding until late last night. I was also hard at work, but for totally different reasons.

I glance at the suitcases standing guard at the foot of the bed. I based most of what I packed for her on these nails. Her favorite color might be pink, but I love her in yellow. She’s gorgeous in every color, of course; blue matches her eyes, and pink is adorable, but yellow feels like the color of her soul.

My heart clenches with fondness. Once I decided on a plan, everything fell into place quickly. It’s spontaneous as hell, and Isabelle is going to think I’m being ridiculous—a favorite word of hers, when it comes to me—but I don’t care. It’s spring break. Our lives can go on hold for a few days. Cooper and Penny are going to see Sebastian and Mia in Europe, after all.

What better way to help her relax than to whisk her away to Australia to meet koalas?

“Isabelle,” I say, brushing a kiss to the top of her head.

After a few moments, she stirs, sitting up as she rubs her eyes. I grin; she looks cute with messy hair.

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