She’s the kind of girl I should never have gone near. Too good. Too sweet. The type that smiled at everyone, said thank you to the bus driver, probably prayed for my soul every Sunday morning while I was still hungover in bed. She had this innocence about her that made you feel like shit just for thinking about ruining it.

And yet, here I was.

I didn’t mean for it to happen. One minute, she was just that girl everyone adored, all soft edges and light. Next thing I knew, she was looking at me like I wasn’t the walking disaster everyone warned her about. And I liked it—too much.

But her father… Jesus Christ. The man had eyes everywhere. Overprotective, controlling, the type to make my skin crawl just standing in the same room. And when he drank? Worse. I’d seen the edge of it, the way she flinched when he raised his voice. It made something ugly crawl inside me.

It was a Tuesday night when my phone rang. Her number flashing up. My first thought was: strange, she’s never called me this late.

“Hey,” I answered, trying to keep it light. “What’s—”

“Joey.” Her voice was frantic, trembling. “I’m—I’m hiding. My dad’s outside my room—he’s screaming about you—he knows—he’s pounding on the door, Joey, I—”

My stomach dropped. All the air left my lungs at once. “Where are you?”

“My closet—please—he’s drunk—he’s—”

That was all I needed. I didn’t even bother hanging up. Just shoved my trainers on, grabbed my jacket, and was out the door, phone still pressed to my ear. My brothers shouted after me, but I didn’t stop to explain.

The walk turned into a jog, the jog turned into a full sprint. My chest burned, but I didn’t care. I could still hear her breathing in my ear, the banging in the background, the muffled shouts of her father’s voice.

When I got there, I didn’t knock. I went straight around the back, climbed the fence like I’d done it a hundred times, and slipped inside the side door she always left unlocked for me.

I found her in her room, pressed into the shadows of her closet, knees to her chest, tears streaming down her face. The sound of the door rattling behind me made my blood boil.

“Baby,” I whispered, crouching in front of her, cupping her face so she’d look at me. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She shook her head, panic written all over her features. “He’s going to hurt you, Joey—if he finds you here—”

“Let him fucking try,” I bit out before I could stop myself, every muscle in me tense, ready to put the bastard through the wall.

But I didn’t. I forced myself to stay with her. That was what mattered—her. I pulled her out of the closet and into my arms, holding her so tight she could feel my heartbeat hammering against her.

“We’re leaving,” I murmured into her hair, already guiding her toward the window. “Pack nothing. Just you. I don’t give a fuck what he says—you’re not staying here tonight.”

She hesitated, glancing back at the door where her father was still raging, and then up at me. For the first time, I saw that spark—the rebellion, the streak I’d probably brought out in her. She nodded.

And that was it.

That night, I didn’t care if I burned every bridge, pissed off every parent, or had to fight the devil himself. She was mine to protect.

And I wasn’t letting go.