Page 57 of Fighting for Ella

They weren't his family, he wasn't part of them, and at the back of his mind was a lingering fear that he didn't want to acknowledge.

Maybe Ella didn't need him now that she was making up with her people.

He’d told her he would be there for her as long as she needed him, that he would be a friend she could count on. Even after allowing himself a tiny taste of what life with Ella could be like if he could get past his fears and ask her out on a date, he’d determined to just be her friend, to keep himself in tighter check and not allow another slip-up.

It would be easier for them if Ella had the support of her team back and no longer had a use for him. Then he could just slip away and banish all thoughts of her from his mind because his craving for her was growing, and he didn't know how much longer he could spend time around her and not do something stupid like confess he wanted her and damn the consequences.

But he couldn’t do that.

Not when the consequences could be so severe.

Having lived the life of an abused and neglected child who came in a distant … nothing … compared to his mom’s habits there was no way he would ever risk putting someone in the position of being on the receiving end of his addiction.

Taking that first step with Ella, admitting he liked her, was attracted to her, and interested in her seemed innocent enough. But one date would lead to another and then another. All too easily, he could see himself becoming addicted, and once he was, he’d ask her to marry him. Obsessed as he was, there was no wayhe’d be able to keep his hands off her and soon they’d have a house full of kids.

What happened when something knocked his perfect world out of sync?

How would he cope?

Could he guarantee that if something awful happened, he wouldn't go running back to the cold comfort of drugs?

Until he could, he had no business getting involved with anyone.

And he certainly had no business standing on Ella’s doorstep.

Yet there he was.

Couldn’t seem to stay away from her.

Since she’d partied at Prey, he hadn't brought pizza around like they’d discussed. He’d also been so afraid that she’d tell him thanks for being there for her, but she didn't need him anymore that he’d given her the impression without outright lying that his team was working on something and kept his phone on silent.

She’d gotten the hint and not texted, leaving him feeling … lost.

Which was why he was there when he should be at home doing his best to forget about sea-green eyes, silky blonde locks, about sweet determination, and more courage than he could ever hope to have.

All he was going to do was check on her.

That was it.

Nothing more.

No showers.

No cooking for her.

No falling asleep holding her.

Just a quick hi and make sure all was okay. Then he’d say goodnight and head back to his place. Honestly, it was crazy he was even there. If he needed to check on her, all he had to do was call or text, he was sure she’d answer.

Yet it wasn't enough.

Miguel kept finding himself consumed with a need to see Ella. To hear her voice. To touch her. Just being in her presence filled him with this soothing warmth he couldn’t seem to get enough of.

Nervous butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he knocked on the door. It wasn't since middle school that he’d felt anything like that. The first time you asked a girl out, even if you had only just turned thirteen, and the date was nothing more than hanging out after school, it was a nerve-wracking experience.

This, on the other hand, should not be.

There was not going to be any asking out, no dating, no falling in love, no marriage, no kids, no future.

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