Page 20 of Right Up His Alley

“They just want to make sure you are current in all of your permits and inspections. You’ll just need to show them the documentation. If anything is coming up, I’d schedule it soon so you have the most up-to-date documents to give to the USBC.”

All the color drains from my face. I’ve mostly kept up with these requirements, but I haven’t paid as much attention as I should have. Keeping permits and certifications current costs money, and if I don’t renew them, there are fines—assuming I get caught. Over the past year, I’ve managed to avoid that, but I know it’s not sustainable.

I told Truett we were working with a small budget, but that isn’t true. Before we make any decisions, I’ll have to check with my mom to see what’s actually in the accounts. The idea of worrying her weighs on me more than anything.

Unless I just use my own personal savings.

I don’t mind spending some of it, but I wanted it to go to something else. Something just for me, but maybe that’s no longer possible.

Fuck, this is falling apart before it even begins. My fingers drum restlessly against the table, desperate for some kind of release from the tight, gnawing anxiety coiling inside me.

Then a soft hand brushes mine. The contact startles me so sharply I nearly jolt out of my chair.

“Sorry!” Truett snatches his hand back. “You looked like you were freaking out.”

“I am freaking out, Truett.” I don’t mean for the words to come out angry, but they do. “All of these things listed cost money. Which, surprise! We don’t have much of it. Yes, I realize I need to keep up with maintenance, and I’m at fault for letting these things take the back burner, but⁠—"

“Ezra, I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me? Just breathe?” Truett demonstrates by taking an exaggerated breath in and releasing it. He does it again, giving me a pointed look until I reluctantly join in.

Admittedly, it helps.

“Better?” he asks after a moment.

“Yes,” I say begrudgingly.

“Listen, your father filled out this application, right? He probably also researched the rules. I bet if we look, you’ll find that everything is up to date. I doubt Mr. Jiménez would leave you high and dry. I wouldn’t worry too much about that. We’ll find the documents needed, and if anything needs updating, we’ll handle it.”

“How? I already told you we don’t have much of a budget.”

Truett waves me off, and I have to clamp down my anger. “I’ll worry about that. For now, let’s focus on cosmetics. Like fixing kitchen appliances or painting the wall that’s in desperate need of it.”

Although I can’t stop thinking about the inspections and permits, Truett is right about the small fixes. There’s much to be done, so maybe we need to start there.

Before I can answer, Truett reaches for another slice of pizza—the last slice—but hesitates and drops his hand.

“Oh, you can have it.” I turn the pan, offering it to him.

Again, he hesitates, only this time, heat flushes his neck and cheeks. “Better not. Dad’s already going to be pissed if he finds out I’ve had pizza twice this week.”

My brow furrows. “So? Why would he care?”

A bitter, humorless laugh leaves his lips. “When it comes to my life and how he thinks I should live it, my father has many opinions. Even ones on food.”

“He tells you what you should eat?” The words come out sharper than I intend, a sudden, inexplicable anger tightening in my chest at a man I’ve never even met. What Truett chooses to put into his body is no one’s business but his own.

But Truett only shrugs, his body language closed off in a way I haven’t seen before. Clearly, this is a touchy subject, which means I’m not going to push him on it. If he wants to vent to me one day, he can.

As if a switch has flipped inside him, Truett grins again, pushing away his plate—and the uneaten slice of pizza—before standing up. He wipes his hands on a napkin and crumples it up before tossing it away. “Alright, I’ve been thinking⁠—”

“I’m realizing that’s a dangerous thing coming from you.”

“—and I have an idea.” He pauses for dramatics. Just as I’m about to tell him to spit it out already, he puts me out of my misery. “I think we need to get out of here. Like, today.”

The words hang heavy between us, and I mentally brace for whatever he’s about to drag me into.

“Ithought you wanted to walk the perimeter and take notes?” Ezra raises a brow.

“I’ve changed my mind.” Something comes over me, and I twirl myself around and grab the back of the chair I was sitting at. “I do that a lot. I’ll try to reel it in.”