Page 107 of Knot Their Starlet

Maybe because my mom would have a ton of shit to say about it. Right before she tried to seduce him herself if I brought him home. And then it’d be my fault if he ended up ditching me for my mother.

“How about you walk me through your thoughts,” Nancy says, offering me a reassuring smile. “I can practically see the gears in your head spinning.”

“Sorry,” I wince. “I—I just don’t want to be judged.”

“This is a judgment-free zone, Andi. I promise.”

“O—okay, well, um, I met a guy. An alpha.” I stare down at myself, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.

For a split second, I’m not looking down at the basic leggings and tank top I have on, I’m staring at the blood splattered bejeweled dress from that night at the Grammys.

“I take it you’re interested in this man?” Nancy prompts.

“Y—yeah. And I’m—I’m scared, I think. He’s a lot older than me. And an alpha. And God knows I don’t pick alphas very well.”

“Ezra’s actions were his, not yours to take responsibility for, Andi. What happened to you is not your burden to carry.”

I let her words wash over me, shutting my eyes and praying I’m not plagued by the memories of that night.

“Okay,” I rasp. “I think... It’ll take me a while to actually believe that.”

“And I’ll be here every step of the way to remind you.”

I’m glad my eyes are closed, because I feel the embarrassing burn of tears behind them.

“Maybe I have Mommy issues too,” I laugh, burying my face in my hands. “You’re so nice to me. Is this how men feel with strippers?”

Nancy lets out a soft breath that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh. When I peek at her through my fingers, I see a grin that she’s unable to hold back.

Score. I made my therapist laugh.

That must mean I’m hilarious.

“I can’t comment on the strippers bit, but I do think you’ve pointed out something very fair,” Nancy says. “I do think the hypercritical inner voice you have isn’t yours.”

“Not mine? What do you mean?”

“Imagine a friend of yours,” Nancy says.

The instruction is innocuous. It should be easy to imagine a friend.

But for a split second, I can’t think of anyone.

I’m hit with a terrible, deep pang of loneliness.

And then I remember whose hoodie I’m wearing.

I never gave Beck his hoodie back. It still carries the faint whiff of his burnt caramel scent, though now it’s more of an even mix between our two perfumes.

Beck is my friend. So is Leo.

Look at me, I have two friends who come to mind.

That’s the most I’ve ever had at one time.

“Imagine that friend went through something you did. Their long-term partner assaulted them. Would you say the same things about them as you would yourself?”

“No.” My answer is instantaneous. If anyone hurt Beck or Leo... It’d be my turn to get violent.