My Guardian's Kiss, A Bitter Sweet Goodbye

cretly loving him. He was my late brother's best

nting. He ripped it to shreds, roaring, "I am your guardi

forgot I had a deadly allergy to the

my bed, and kissed me while murmuring his fiancée's

u doing in m

o promised to protect me forever, now saw me as disgustin

to Juilliard, a one-way ticket out. On his birthday, I packed my bags, dele

pte

screen flickered, then went black, taking w

s eyes, usually sharp and guarded, looked soft, almost vulnerable. I remembered that day. I

e was the sun my world revolved around, the quiet steady beat of my hea

o the nightstand. The cold condensation from my water bottle seeped into my palm. I picked

My thumb hesitated over the contacts, then found

male voice answere

t a whisper. "Dad? It's Cora. I go

hen, a joyous, uncontrolled laugh. "My little girl! I k

r now. "I'm coming to New Yor

al reason for leaving. This full scholarship was my one, desp

phone. "Is it Cole again, s

Cole is getting engaged, Dad. He's moving on with his life. It wouldn't be right for

ck with emotion. "My poor girl. All these years, living in someone els

ump forming in my throat. My eyes p

ness is back on track. You won't have to depend on an

managed, j

iet torment I'd endured. Ten years. Ten years of loving a man who would never be mine. It was time to

rs. He was probably working late, as always. I clutched the Juilliard acceptance letter

air falling across his forehead. His clean-cut suit jacket was draped over his chair. He was undeniably handsome, a monument of di

I called

wed. His gaze, usually so in

lickered to the screen. The coldness in his expression melted

his voice I hadn't heard directed at

friend. His high-profile

don't worry about dinner. I'll order something to the apartment. Just com

letter in my hand now felt like a lead weight

ng him a picture I titled "Secret." It depicted a young girl, her eyes wide with adoration, following the b

properly. Instead, his face contorted with a fury I had never seen. "What is this,

you always... you always let me think..." I had cried, my v

uardian's affection, can you? It's pathetic." He snatched the painting from my hands, tear

t splintered into a million pieces. I knelt, gathering the scraps, try

d finally see me, truly see me. But then Isabela Brooks had walked into our lives, d

cade of loving him

to leave. I had to remove him from my heart, eve