Page 20 of Let Me Love You

The girl looks about as comfortable as someone having a pap smear when her eyes meet mine again. “No offense, but a lot of people know about you.”

Understanding dawns on me, and my jaw tightens, my nails forming crescents on my palms.

Fuck. You. Shorty.

She knows about the OnlyFans account. I don’t know how. Actually, scratch that. It’s probably the first thing to pop up if you Google my name. I refuse to confirm that particular theory out of full-blown fear over what I might find.

Regardless, Caity doesn’t need to say anything else. I know exactly what she’s talking about, and it pisses me off.

“Do I have any chance of getting this position?” I demand.

Her hazel eyes fill with remorse as she hesitates. Her head does the tiniest of shakes. Hell, if I hadn’t been paying attention, I probably would’ve missed it. But the regret in her gaze? The pity?

Fuck that.

“I felt like you had a right to know it isn’t your fault, and you didn’t do anything wrong in the interview,” Caity rushes out, sensing how close I am to blowing a fucking gasket. “Don’t take it too hard.”

My molars grind as I shake my head, fighting off tears of frustration. “Nice to meet you, Caity.”

“Wait,” she begs. “Let me walk you to your car.”

“I’m fine.”

“Seriously.” She glances at Ms. Foster’s closed door again, and I storm off, not giving a shit whether or not she follows because I’m too pissed to care.

The sun is bright as I march outside, my blood boiling. Squinting until my eyes have time to adjust, I spot my car in the parking lot and bolt toward it.

“Damn, Mia, you walk faster than my dogs,” Caity mutters, rushing to keep up with me.

I almost laugh but swallow it back.

I used to have a dog. And she was beautiful. Crazy. Messy. Huge. And drooly. Pixie. Her name was Pixie. Then, my uncle inadvertently stole her. Since my dad was the one who’d originally bought her for me and my mom is anti-dogs, I let my uncle keep her.

But man, how I miss her.

She’s still alive, but she isn’t mine anymore. I should go see her again. Maybe take her on a walk since she’s way too old to go on a run with me nowadays. But a walk? It might be nice. And shit, I could use the comfort and familiarity right now.

I wipe at my cheeks, the last of my self-respect finally seeping from my tired bones, leaving me nothing but a shell of the strong badass I used to be.

I tried so hard.

So fucking hard.

To be better. To be stronger. To fight for what I want. Be who I wanted to be. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how many obstacles I’ve had to get past. How many hurdles I’ve jumped over.

It still isn’t enough.

I can feel Caity watching me. Her arms are folded, her head tilted down. Like she wants to help. Wants to fix the mess I’ve made. But she doesn’t know how.

She’s younger. Probably close to my age. Probably has her own shit to deal with. But she was nice. To tell me the truth.

My keys jingle as I pull them out of my purse, but I don’t climb into my car. Not yet.

“What kind of dogs do you have?” I ask her.

“Two are litter mates, and they’re lab pit mixes. Then I have a chihuahua and toy Australian Shepherd mix.”

A laugh sounding a lot more like a pathetic sob than actual amusement slips out of me. “What are their names?”