Page 44 of Fighting for Ella

“It’s Auntie Boo,” four-year-old Sarah protested, loving the nickname Ella had had since she was a baby and preferring it to Ella’s actual name.

Seeing the two little girls she adored didn't soothe her like it usually did. Instead, tonight it just made her feel that much more lonely. She didn't have kids, didn't have a husband, didn't even have a boyfriend, and while usually that was okay, tonight when she was already feeling adrift in the big, wide world, all it did was make the ache in her heart grow.

February 8th

6:56 P.M.

Coming here couldn’t be considereda good idea.

Nor could it be considered to be in anyone’s best interests.

Not his and certainly not Ella’s.

Yet Miguel parked his car on the street outside the pretty family home that seemed too large for a single person and, at the same time, absolutely what he could picture someone like Ella living in.

He didn't just park his car. He climbed out of it and walked down the stone path through her front yard and up her porch steps.

Even though he had pretended to his brother and Ella’s friends that all he felt for her was compassion and all he wasaiming for was being her friend, that felt like a lie when he was standing in front of her front door. It felt like more even though it shouldn’t.

For either of their sakes.

Being there could be a mistake. Ella had asked for time alone to process, and while he didn't want to disrespect her wishes, he couldn’t help but feel that what she really needed right now was tonotbe alone. When she’d been threatened the mole’s access to Prey had meant she had to fight alone. He needed her to know that she had someone at her back.

After he checked on her, if she still said she wanted him to go, then he would. Miguel had no intention of forcing himself on her. There was no possible way he could have gone home without knowing for certain that Ella was hanging in there.

So, to that end, he knocked on her door and waited.

While he wouldn't have been surprised if she’d gotten home, eaten, taken a steaming hot bath or shower, and fallen into bed, there were lights on—upstairs and downstairs—so he knew she was still up.

What was in question was whether or not she would open up and let him in.

Turned out he didn't need to worry about it. The door swung open, and she stood there looking small and lost. Her long blonde locks were twisted into a messy bun on the top of her head, she was wearing leggings and one of those huge, oversized hoodie blanket things that was white with pretty pink, yellow, green, and blue butterflies on it. Her feet were bare, and a rush of protectiveness hit him as he remembered the burns and blisters that littered the soles of her feet.

She shouldn’t be standing on them.

She shouldn’t be there alone.

Someone should be with her. Taking care of her. Making sure she was doing okay physically, psychologically, and emotionally.Or at the very least that she was hanging in there because there was no way she could be okay after everything she’d been through. One of those things on their own was enough to tear apart a person’s psyche, let alone the blow after blow that had battered Ella.

“Hey, honey, how you doing?” he asked, trying to keep his tone gentle but not patronizing. Because despite everything she had been through, Ella was still standing, she had managed to withstand all those blows and come out the other end. While she might not realize it yet, she was strong, and he found himself not wanting to leave until he knew she was aware that she could make it through this ordeal and come out the other side.

Ella shrugged, and he was pretty sure she was going to reiterate her need for time alone, but then she turned and disappeared inside her house, leaving the door open behind her.

Taking that as an invitation, Miguel stepped inside her home and locked up before heading down the hall the way Ella had gone. He found her in a huge family room at the back of the house, curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace. With her legs tucked underneath her hoodie, and her face scrubbed free of makeup, she looked so young and vulnerable, and he felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest.

He and Luis had been messed up by their childhood only in very different ways. Luis had kept his distance from women, only allowing himself casual encounters because of one bad decision he’d made at the tender age of eleven that had almost gotten Miguel killed and them both arrested. On the other hand, he had kept things casual with women because he was more like their addict mother than he cared to admit. It was one thing to date around, have sex, a good time with no strings attached, but risking falling for someone and repeating his parents’ mistakes was something he had vowed never to do.

Which meant never allowing things to get serious. Women were for fun, he was respectful with them, always made sure they enjoyed themselves and knew the score up front, but never once had even a hint of a feeling beyond fun possessed him.

Ever.

Certainly never anything like this overwhelming protectiveness he felt when it came to Ella.

Shaking off the feeling, he crossed the room and dropped onto the sofa beside her. “Let me check out your feet,” he said, needing to do something so he didn't feel so helpless. Apparently, there was a flip side to protectiveness, and it was helplessness. He needed to fix this for Ella somehow, and since he couldn’t it left him feeling edgy and uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to,” she protested but didn't stop him when he reached out and snagged her ankles, twisting her so she was facing sideways on the couch and resting her legs on his thighs so he could check out the soles of her feet.

The blisters looked painful, and a couple were red and puffy like infection might be attempting to set in.

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