Page 87 of Right Up His Alley

A moment later, the restroom door creaks open. I freeze, heart thudding.

I force myself to act natural, even as footsteps echo in the otherwise quiet room. I hope they’ll go away, but they don’t. Instead, they stop right outside the stall door.

“Ezzie? Baby?” Truett’s soothing voice reaches me, but it does little to stop the sudden panic overtaking me. I should have known he’d follow me, but I can’t seem to pull myself together. He’s seen me at my lowest far too often. I can’t make this a fucking trend.

“Be right out!” My voice is too loud, bordering on hysterical. I attempt to hype myself up, even though all I want to do is curl up in a ball and stay here the rest of the day. That would be preferable to telling my mother I don’t want to run the family business.

“Ezra, open the door.” His voice is gentle but firm.

I want to ignore him. But the looming sense of doom hanging above me is like a storm cloud threatening to consume me. With budding clarity, I realize I don’t want to be alone. My body shakes as I make it to the door, fumbling with the lock. When it finally unlatches, Truett does the rest for me and pushes the door open.

He doesn’t even step inside before I fling myself into my arms.

“Ezra—shit, you’re shaking.”

The walls are closing in on me. I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t⁠—

“Baby, you’re having a panic attack.”

Is that what this is? Fuck, they suck. How does anyone live through this?

“I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me? Listen to my breathing and copy me. It’s just me and you, love.”

Truett demonstrates deep breathing. Long breath in. Long breath out. Repeat. I can’t seem to catch mine.

Too fast. Too loud. Too much.

Chest tight. Head spinning.

The room tilts. My fingers tingle.

But Truett keeps going. Steady. Calm. Grounded. In. Out. In. Out.

I try. Fail. Try again.

In. Out. Again. Slower.

Less jagged.

Heart still racing but not running.

Not breaking free.

Not yet.

“That’s it. You’re doing good.” Truett runs his hand up and down my spine, a loving, gentle caress that helps the anxiety go away. Everything goes away until it’s just him and I.

“I’m… sorry⁠—”

“Shh,” Truett cuts me off, shaking his head. “Never apologize for a panic attack. I didn’t mean to spring that on you in front of your mom. I should be the one who’s sorry. It’s just that…”

Truett sighs, his hand dropping from my back, and I immediately miss his warmth. He runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Like I said earlier, it pains me you don’t think your dreams are important,” he finally says. “Because they are. You’re a good man, and you always put your family first. But your mother doesn’t love you because you take care of the alley. She loves you for simply being you. No strings attached. And I think it would hurt her to know her son isn’t pursuing his true passions.”

“And what if this crushes her? Knowing I’m soiling my father’s name and what he worked so hard for? What if what I want brings her harm? What if it’s not good enough?” And there it is, my fears laid out for him to see. Of not being enough. Of disappointing those I love.

Truett’s soft hands cup my face, gently caressing my cheek. “I think you’re making a lot of assumptions about a person who wants nothing but your happiness. Your mother loves you. I understand this is hard for you, but you’ve done a lot of hard things over the last few weeks. You can do this. Do it for yourself. You deserve it.”

This man.