She’s the kind of girl he 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 his soul every Sunday morning while he 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 he was.

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

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

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

“Hey,” he 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—”

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

“My closet—please—he’s drunk—he’s—”

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

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

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

Joey 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 his blood boil.

“Baby,” he whispered, crouching in front of her, cupping her face so she’d look at him. “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,” he bit out before I could stop himself, every muscle in me tense, ready to put the bastard through the wall.

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

“We’re leaving,” he 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, he saw that spark—the rebellion, the streak he’d probably brought out in her. She nodded.

And that was it.

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

And he wasn’t letting go.