Chapter 68
Izzy
“Heads up, Iz!” Shona shouts.
I look up from my phone in time to smack away the volleyball rocketing in my direction. Shona jogs over, a sheepish expression
on her face. “Sorry, sorry. You okay?”
I just nod. Technically, I’m fine. I spent the day in class, and now I’m at Moorbridge High’s volleyball club, and later this
evening, I have to finalize the catering arrangements for the wedding. A totally normal Monday, if not for the fact that I
haven’t spoken to my boyfriend since Saturday night. Since his father crashed into our lives. Since I left him alone, if only
to keep things from falling apart beyond repair.
I felt sick the moment I shut his door. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me; the thought didn’t even cross my mind. But I kept envisioning
his panicked eyes and the strung-out tension in his voice, and it took all my willpower not to cry until I left the building.
It’s only been a day, but it feels like a year. When I called Katherine, I played the last card I had. She went to see him;
she called to tell me so yesterday, but Nik hasn’t reached out.
I hope he’s packing for San Jose. If he isn’t, after all this, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Shona tosses her braids over her shoulder, dribbling the volleyball. “Come on, leave it for a few minutes.”
“He might text.”
“Turn up the volume.”
“Ugh, fine.” I adjust my ponytail as I jog onto the court after her. “What are you doing?”
“I vote contact drill,” Victoria says, jumping in place on the other side of the net.
“You always want to do that.”
“Because it’s fun.” She turns to the high schoolers milling around; we’ve been getting a bigger crowd every session. “Want
to play against us? See who can keep the rally going the longest?”
Joana waves, giving me a braces-filled smile. I wave back, trying to return her expression. I glance at the bench, where my
phone rests on top of my bag. I don’t care if I’m trying to give Nik space. I don’t care if he’s mad that I called his mom.
If he doesn’t get in touch by the end of the day, I’m marching to his room and banging on the door until he opens it.
Ellie turns on a playlist while Victoria sets up the game. Me, her, and Shona on one side, Joana and two of her friends on
the other. I serve—a perfect floater that gives Joana plenty of time to react—and the rally gets underway. First, we get to
ten touches. Then fifteen. At twenty, we’re all in stitches at the way Ellie and the rest of the club members are cheering
us on. The girls rotate, and we start afresh. It takes most of my concentration, and finally I sink into the game.
Then my phone starts ringing.
The volleyball nearly hits me in the head again as I dash across the court.
I almost sink to my knees with relief when I see Nik’s name. Victoria catches my eye, giving me a reassuring nod, as I slip
out of the gym. She told me about what we missed at Lark’s on Saturday night—including all of them nearly getting kicked out
when Jean started dancing on a table—and I couldn’t help spilling the story to her. Nik should have been there, celebrating
with his teammates, after all.
“Isabelle?”
I shut my eyes as I lean against a trophy case. It’s only been a day, but I missed the sound of his voice.
“Hey. How are you doing?”
“Better.” He sounds exhausted. “We need to talk.”
My heart speeds up. “Can I come over? Or I can meet you at the house.”
“I’m actually... on my way to the airport.”
I don’t say anything for a minute. I don’t even think anything would come out of my mouth if I tried. I let out a shaky breath,
finally, tears pricking my eyes as I speak. “That better be because you’re getting on a plane to San Jose.”
“You were right, sunshine. About all of it.”
“I’m sorry I called Katherine, but I was so worried, and—”
“I don’t blame you.” He clears his throat. “Things can’t go on like this forever.”
“Yes,” I say with relief. I didn’t regret calling Katherine to tell her how he’s been struggling, but it was a risk. Thank
God it led somewhere good. Just like when he talked to my brothers. I press my hand to my tattoo, hidden underneath my tank
top. “We can work on it. I can’t come to San Jose today, but maybe this weekend? Do you know where you’re staying yet? What’s
the game schedule?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need to sort out my shit.”
“I know. We can figure out next steps this weekend. What did Katherine say?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “No, sweetheart. I mean that I need to. I don’t trust myself right now. I can’t be with you if I’m constantly worried I’m going to do something I’d regret.”
“Nik. No.” I blink, freeing a few tears. I wish he were here, if only so I could shake some sense into him. I’ll bet that’s why he called me from the car instead of saying goodbye in person.
Goodbye.
“If you try to break up with me because you’re scared, I’ll end you.”
For some reason, that makes him laugh. “There’s my girl.”
“I’m serious.”
“We’re not breaking up,” he says, a bit of a growl in his voice. “Definitely not. But I can’t pretend I don’t need help. I
can’t live like this anymore, shoving everything down and waiting for it to explode.”
“So let me help you.”
“I can’t put that responsibility on you. I need to sort myself out, and I can’t expect you to do that for me. I don’t want
to.”
“Why? I’m not enough?”
My voice cracks at the admission, the vocalization of the thought that’s been echoing in my mind since the moment I left his
room. Not enough. Never enough. I gave him everything, and he’s slipping through my fingers anyway.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what do you mean?” I sniffle, pressing the heel of my hand against my nose. I shouldn’t make it about me, I know that,
but I can’t help the jumbled feelings rising to the surface. California is one thing. Leaving me—even if he says it’s not
forever—is another. “You know I trust you, right? I meant what I said. You’d never hurt me like that.”
“I need help, Isabelle. The professional kind.” He takes a breath, as if readying himself. “If I’m going to be a good partner
for you—a man you can spend your life with—I need to learn how to manage my... my panic disorder. My past. And if I don’t
have the distance, the space to reflect, I don’t know if I’ll really change.”
“So you’d rather be alone than with me.”
“Not forever.”
I laugh derisively. “Sure.”
“I’m doing it because I love you,” he says, voice thick with emotion. Quiet, intense. Just like him. “I’m doing it for us.”
I know him. I know when he’s made a decision, and I know how steadfast he can be when he sets his mind to something. I should
be happy right now. This is what I’ve wanted for him. But he feels so far away, and he hasn’t even left New York yet.
“If you do this, you have to promise you’re coming back.” My voice breaks. “You have to promise.”
“I’m coming back. This isn’t goodbye.”
I hear it, but I hate it. I hate it so much I want to scream.
“When you do, it has to be for real.” I wipe roughly at my tears. Distantly, I notice the sounds of the gym. The world going
on around us, as if this moment isn’t delicate and breakable and right on the edge of shattering. “You have to be coming home
to me, Kolya. Not for now, not for a little while. It needs to be forever.”
Even over the phone, his voice is velvet soft. Russian first, then English. “I promise, solnishko.”
Our love has felt like springtime. Warmth chasing away shadows, light spilling into the open. I imagined sun-drenched days
ahead, but the frost hasn’t left the ground. The flowers haven’t bloomed. I’ve never wished for his embrace more than right
now. I’d hold on so tightly, he couldn’t pry me away.
But instead, I have to trust for both of us until he trusts himself.