Page 2 of Guardian's Touch

CAMILLA

We are pleased to welcome you to Yale University, Class of 2027.

It still doesn't feel real. No matter how many times I read the acceptance letter, I can't shake the feeling that I’m reading about somebody else's life. Their future, their education. I didn't want to apply in the first place and never expected to get accepted.

But here I am, holding the evidence in my hand and all the welcome materials that came in the mail today.

It should be happy excitement that makes my hands tremble like they are now. Going to Yale would mean finally having a little freedom for the first time in two years. At least I hope it would.

I know how lucky I am. I was only seventeen when my parents died, and I could have ended up in the foster system. Instead, Dane took me in, and I've had everything I could ever want since then.

Except the freedom to make my own choices. Yale is not my choice.

At least one of us will be happy about this. All I can do is feel guilty about taking somebody else's spot. Somebody who actually wants to be there, somebody who might have dreamed about attending an Ivy League school.

Why is he so determined to get rid of me? I’ve only ever tried to follow his millions of rules, but he’s set on sending me all the way from Chicago to Connecticut. I must’ve done something wrong. I wish he’d tell me what it is so I can make up for it.

I didn’t know I started tearing up until a pair of small paws plant themselves on my shoulder so my best friend can lick the salt from my cheeks. “You are such a stinker!” I giggle while Georgie gives me kisses. He always knows how to brighten my mood.

And how am I supposed to leave him? The thought makes my chest hurt.

It also makes me grab him and squeeze him while the tears fall twice as hard and fast on his white fur. It didn't take long for me to figure out Georgie was more than a gift to make me feel better after I lost Mom and Dad. He's been my constant companion, my company. Otherwise, Dane is always off working, traveling for meetings and stuff.

And you would think that would mean I'd have some freedom to do what I want the way other people my age do? Fat chance. Just because my guardian is always out of town doesn't mean eyes aren’t looking over my shoulder at all times. His security guys are always around the house and never let me go out alone. I'm sure they report to him when he’s out of town.

When I think about it that way, I feel even worse about being disappointed with the Yale situation. I should be glad. This means I'll be able to start having a life.

If only I didn't feel so much like Dane just wants to get rid of me. “Is that what it is?” I ask Georgie, but he's busy playing with an old sock. Even he's too busy for me today.

I know it's wrong to think about Dane the way I do. He's always going to see me as a kid who needs protection. Like I can't handle myself. He'll never see me as an adult capable of making my own decisions. Smart enough to know what I want.

If I had my way, I would stay here with him. Forever. And if he had to go away for business, I would go with him. I know what I want.

But I'm only an inconvenience. He probably regretted taking me in five minutes after I got here. I'm probably the reason he spends so much time away from home, too. It's not like he ever had a wife or kids of his own—his life isn't built for me. And that's why he wants me hundreds of miles away.

It doesn't matter what I want, and it never has.

I'm trembling as I hop off the bed, still holding the letter. “Come on, buddy,” I whisper, and Georgie happily follows me. I'm not leaving him here alone, that much is for sure. What would he do without me?

Instead of waiting for his little legs to make it down the stairs, I scoop him up and carry him until we reach the first floor. I'm in no mood to wait around now that I know Dane got home from his latest trip a few hours ago. He didn't come to see me, but then he never does. Straight to his office, as always.

It's amazing, even now, to walk through this house and compare it to the memories of the tiny home I shared with my parents. I'm still not quite used to it, even two years later. Dane always went out of his way to make sure I felt comfortable and like I belonged here, but you don't spend seventeen years of your life watching your mom scan the weekly circulars for coupons and suddenly adjust to living in a mansion. Servants, cook, the whole thing. They're the closest I have to a family now, and it only hits me as I stride down the wide hallway cutting through the heart of the house that I'm going to miss them, too.

It's like he never stops to think how I feel or what I want. I would be happier staying here in Chicago for so many reasons.

I hear him in his office, and he's not alone. Frank's voice is just as familiar as my guardian’s, being his right-hand man and everything. From the sound of it, they’re stressed out about something. Big surprise. They always are.

The door is closed, but when I try the knob, it turns easily. If it were locked, I wouldn't bother. As angry and hurt as I am, certain rules still don't get broken.

I rap against the wood with my knuckles as I swing the door open wide enough for Georgie to scurry into the office. “Can I talk to you?” I blurt out before either of the men has the chance to acknowledge me.

Dane turns away from the window, and it isn't the exasperation written all over his face that hits my awareness first. It's him, himself, overwhelming me as always.

Yet another unfortunate turn of events: I've basically fallen in love with him over the years.

I didn't mean to. I didn't want to, either. Who would deliberately get themselves in a situation like this? It would be like purposely hurting myself because there's no way this will end how I wish it would. I will only ever be a child to him, so longing for him is pointless.

I wish somebody would tell that to my heart, not to mention the rest of me. As usual, setting eyes on him for the first time in days steals the breath from my lungs at first. The flat planes of his cheeks and his chiseled jaw are covered in black stubble that leaves me wishing I could run a hand over it to test its roughness.

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