Joey Lynch was a fortress to everyone else — all sharp jawline and sharper tongue, untouchable in the hallways of Tommen. But she’d always been the exception, the one person who got to see past the armor without ever asking for permission.

She was sprawled sideways across his bed tonight, humming softly as she highlighted pages in a textbook she’d borrowed from him two weeks ago.

Joey sat on the floor by the bed, back pressed against the mattress, pretending to watch something on his phone screen — but really, all he saw was her. The curve of her smile when she figured out an answer, the furrow between her brows when she was stuck, the way she chewed her pen cap, oblivious to the fact she’d owned him for years without trying.

I’d give you everything if you asked, he thought, jaw clenching as she let out another soft hum. I’d burn down every part of myself just to keep you warm.

But he didn’t say it. He never did.

“Joey?”

He startled at the sound of his name — her voice made him soft in ways he’d never admit, not even under threat of death. He looked up, and she was leaning over the edge of the bed, her hair falling like a curtain between them and the world.

“You okay? You’re really quiet tonight.”

He swallowed. Nodded. His throat felt raw, too full of things he’d never say. I’m okay because you’re here. I’m okay because you look at me like this. I’m okay because I get to want you in secret.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “All good, sunshine.”

She smiled then — God, that smile. She flicked his forehead, gentle. “Stop worrying about me for once, Lynch. Study.”

He watched her pull back up onto the bed, nose buried in her notes again, utterly unaware that she was the reason he’d never felt lonely, and the only reason he’d ever felt longing in the first place.

Joey Lynch would wait. Would want. Would protect. Because when she was ready to see him the way he saw her — when she was ready to call him hers — he’d be right there.

A man who yearns is a man who earns. And Joey Lynch? He’d never stop earning her.