Page 70 of Right Up His Alley

“But—”

“I don’t want to hear fucking judgment from someone who can’t even tell their own father they hate being a professional bowler!” I snap, hating the cruel words as soon as I say them. But I can’t stop. Even when I see the first tear fall down Truett’s cheek. “It’s not so easy leaving the family legacy, is it?”

“Ezra—”

“Is it!?” I scream, my voice reverberating around the entire alley.

Truett’s lower lip trembles. “No,” he admits in a whisper so soft I barely hear him.

“That’s why I have to focus on making the alley the best it can be for the tournament. If I don’t get that money, Truett, I…” I shake my head, not wanting to think of that possibility. One problem at a time.

“Please, let me help you.” Despite everything, Truett still wants to help me. The guy who is breaking up with him. The world—but mostly me—doesn’t deserve Truett Thorne.

“You can help me by staying away. Why don’t you just go finalize your registration with the USBC Championship? Your daddy is going to make you compete anyway. You can’t say no to him, and I can’t let whatever this relationship is jeopardize the alley’s chances of being chosen. We need to face reality here, Truett. You are a professional bowler. Stop thinking you actually care about some small-town alley. Get real for once in your life.”

My words are the final nail in the coffin, hitting their mark perfectly. My eyes sting with unshed tears, which I blink away. Crying won’t serve me now. And I fear breaking down will only make me beg for Truett’s forgiveness.

I don’t want to do this, True. I care about you too much. I think I’m in love with you.

But I don’t speak the words. I need him to hate me. For him to leave. Because the reality of the situation is, even after the tournament, my life still will be tied to the alley. Truett will push me to chase my dreams, but I can’t do that. I need to provide for my family. For my mother, who loves this alley, and for my father, who saw a future for me here. I no longer have my savings as backup, so I have to put all my focus into the alley.

Truett was born to shine—bright and bold. He was made to be seen. And me? I’m afraid I’ll dim that light just by standing too close. That one day, the weight of me will wear him down until all that brightness fades into resentment. I can’t let that happen. I won’t be the reason he loses himself.

Truett’s jaw clenches, and he balls his fists at his side. “So that’s it?”

“That’s it,” I say.

Truett takes a step forward, and my body locks up. This close, I can see all the anger and pain in his eyes. “I know you’re pushing me away, Ezra,” he says, making me stiffen. “And you know what? Fine. I’ll go. If that’s what you want, I’ll go. But know this. You are so much more than this alley. I’ll never know why you limit yourself, and maybe I’m not supposed to. But I hope one day—” his voice breaks, and my instinct is to comfort him. But I can’t. Not when I’m the one hurting him.

“But I hope one day you realize you are allowed to walk a different path than the one people expect of you. And I truly hope you will. You’ll be a great tattoo artist. I just wish I could be part of that.”

“Truett…” His name leaves my mouth laced with regret, heavy and bitter, like I’ve just torn something I can never put back together.

I don’t mean to reach for him, but I do—reflexively, desperately. He’s already pulling away. His warmth vanishes before I can touch him, and all that’s left is air and silence.

Then he turns his back to me.

And that—that—is what breaks me.

Because no matter how loud my heart screams, I know I’ve already lost him.

“Goodbye, Ezra. I…”

His voice cracks, barely a whisper, like the rest of the sentence hurts too much to say. He just shakes his head slowly, defeated, and turns away.

Then he walks out the door without looking back. Not even once. The click of it closing behind him feels final. Like a period at the end of a chapter I wasn’t ready to finish. Or a play missing the last act.

And then I’m alone.

The weight of it hits all at once. The grief I’ve been trying to outrun slams into me like a tidal wave, and I break completely.

I don’t cry. I collapse.

Every part of me unravels in the echo of his absence. I sink into a darkness I haven’t felt in a long time, the kind that swallows everything.

The kind I don’t think I can crawl out of.

It’s been a week. Seven days of the same conversation looping through my head like a nightmare I can’t stop reimagining, the words burrowing into my mind deeper every time I hear them. I see Ezra’s face every time I blink. His drunk, sloppy, sad eyes. The way his words slurred as he told me he spent every penny of his tattoo artistry dreams just to save the alley.