13

It's just past midnight by the time Conner and Lucas finally knock out. I let them stay up late watching some animated alien movie that had them laughing so hard they nearly fell off the couch. Now they're curled up in the next room, totally dead to the world.

Lip and I are stretched out on my bed, not touching, but close—close enough that I can feel his warmth, close enough to count the rise and fall of his chest if I wanted to.

"You know," I say into the quiet, "I never actually checked how much my dad left in that account before he dipped."

Lip tilts his head toward me, one eyebrow raised. "What, like a 'sorry I bailed, here's some cash' type deal?"

I nod and reach for my phone. "Yeah. He gave the lawyer info before he left. Said it was 'to help.' Whatever the hell that means."

I pull up the banking app and type in the passcode. The number hits me like a punch to the gut.

"Holy shit," I whisper.

Lip shoots upright. "What?"

I just hold out the phone. He reads the number. His eyebrows shoot up.

"Half a million?!" he says, eyes wide.

"Yeah," I say, still stunned. "I guess guilt pays well."

He lets out a low whistle. "Fuck, that's insane. I'd be lucky if my dad left me a pack of smokes and a handwritten insult."

I laugh, the sound still a little shaky. "You think it's real? Like, maybe there's some weird catch and I just haven't found it yet."

He shrugs, eyes still on the screen. "Looks real to me. Hell, maybe he finally did one thing right."

"I mean...I guess I don't have to get a job right away now," I say, tossing my phone to the side.

"Yeah, you can be a full-time rich bitch," Lip teases, lying back down beside me.

I nudge him with my foot. "Screw you."

He smirks. "You're gonna start wearing fur coats and making Conner bring you wine coolers."

I snort. "I'd be the worst rich person. I'd blow it all on fixing the house and getting Lucas that goddamn racetrack he won't shut up about."

"Better than buying yachts and divorces," Lip mutters.

We go quiet again, the weight of what I just learned settling between us like a heavy blanket. Then, softly:

"You ever think about it?" I ask. "What you'd do if money wasn't a problem?"

He stares at the ceiling for a long moment. "Yeah. All the time."

"What would you do?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. Maybe I'd fix up a car. Travel. Go to college, I guess. Maybe just...breathe for once."

I roll onto my side to face him. "You could still do all that."

He glances over. "You always have to say shit like that?"

"Say what?"

"Stuff that makes it sound like things could actually get better."

I smile faintly. "Someone's gotta believe it. Might as well be me."

There's a pause. Then he leans in fast, kissing me without thinking—his hand catching the side of my face, rough and warm. I kiss him back, just as fast, pulling him in like I've been waiting all day.

His hands are on my hips now, under my shirt, calloused and hot against my skin. The kiss turns messy, rushed, needy. Like we both need to feel something right now. Like we need to forget everything else.

"You sure?" I murmur against his lips.

"Are you?" he breathes back.

Instead of answering, I tug his shirt over his head and toss it behind me. He pulls mine up in one smooth motion, like he's done it a hundred times—but the way he looks at me says it still matters.

Clothes scatter, limbs tangle. It's quick and chaotic, like neither of us wants to stop and think. He fumbles with his jeans, cursing under his breath. I giggle, breathless, when he nearly falls off the bed.

"Nice moves," I whisper, grinning.

"Shut up," he mutters, flushing just a little.

He kisses me again, harder this time, hands sliding up my thighs as I wrap my legs around his waist. It's not perfect—it's Lip. It's fast and rough, desperate and real. But it feels like something we both needed.

After, we lie there tangled up in silence, the air still humming around us. His fingers are threaded through mine on top of the blanket. I'm not sure who reached out first.

"You think I'm gonna change now?" I ask, voice low.

He looks over, hair a mess, cheeks still pink. "What, 'cause you've got money?"

"Yeah. Like, I'll start acting like someone who doesn't know how to microwave ramen."

Lip scoffs. "Nah. You're too stubborn for that shit."

I smile. "Good."

He glances over at me, just long enough for something to flicker in his eyes. "But if you do start buying name-brand cereal, I'm fucking leaving."

"Deal," I laugh, pulling the blanket higher. "But I'm getting Lucas that racetrack first."

The sun's barely up when Lucas crawls into bed between me and Lip like he owns the place, one tiny hand smacking Lip square in the face.

"Ow—Jesus—what the hell?" Lip groans, eyes half-lidded as he wipes at his cheek.

Lucas giggles like it's the funniest thing he's ever seen. "You made a weird noise when you were sleeping."

Lip glares at him. "You made a weird entrance."

"I had a nightmare," Lucas says matter-of-factly, already settling against my side and yanking the blanket up to his chin.

From the hallway, Conner yells, "He's lying! He just wants pancakes!"

Lucas shouts back, "You promised!"

Lip mutters under his breath and flops onto his back. "I swear, your brothers have a sixth sense for cockblocking."

I elbow him. "Welcome to the circus."

An hour later, we're all halfway dressed and piled into the kitchen. Lip's frying eggs in my too-small pan while Lucas spins in circles and Conner tries to convince him to put ketchup on his toast.

"Let's go to your house after," Conner says, turning to Lip. "Carl said we could play soccer. And he has nunchucks."

"Of course he does," Lip mumbles, flipping an egg.

I look over at him. "You down?"

He shrugs. "Sure. Might as well check if the house is still standing."

⸻

We walk into the Gallagher house mid-morning, and it's already a wreck. There's an empty pizza box on the floor, two pairs of underwear (we don't ask), and Frank passed out face-down on the living room couch with a beer still clutched in one hand.

"Ah," Lip says. "Home sweet home."

Lucas immediately bolts past him. "Carl! Where's the racetrack?!"

Carl yells something unintelligible from upstairs, followed by a loud crash.

Conner looks at Lip. "Does your house always smell like feet and wet cheese?"

Lip just nods solemnly. "Yeah, that's Frank."

Frank stirs, blinking blearily. "Who the fuck let a daycare in here?"

"I did," Lip says, flat.

Frank sits up, squinting at me. "You again. The one with the legs."

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"You brought eggs last time," he says, waving a hand like that clears everything up. "Solid legs. Good eggs. You can stay."

"I'm gonna vomit," Lip says.

"Same," I mutter.

Frank groans and rubs his face. "What time is it? I've got—uh..." He looks around like the answer's hiding under the couch. "Nope. Nothing to do."

Fiona comes in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She freezes when she sees us.

"Oh. Look who decided to show his face," she says, aiming the words squarely at Lip.

He sighs. "Good morning to you, too."

"You've been gone how long now? What, two nights in a row? I've had to cover dinner, get Carl's busted bike tire fixed, and keep Liam from eating batteries again."

"Jesus, Fiona, I've been—"

"Yeah, where have you been?"

I can feel the tension in Lip's jaw from where I'm standing. He doesn't answer right away, just shifts his weight like he wants to be anywhere else.

"I was busy."

"Busy," Fiona echoes, her arms crossing. "Right. Too busy to come home, but not too busy to bring your girlfriend and a bunch of kids over here."

"They're not—" Lip starts, then stops. He glances at me, and for a second, I almost feel bad he's caught in the middle of this. Almost.

"They needed breakfast. So I made them breakfast," he says finally. "And now we're here. Sorry for being, you know, a functioning human for once."

Fiona scoffs. "You could try doing that around here sometime."

Frank perks up again. "Did someone say breakfast? I could go for a mimosa."

"Frank, I will set you on fire," Fiona snaps.

Lucas returns downstairs at full speed, holding what looks like a half-crushed Nerf gun. "This house is awesome!"

Lip snorts, but I see the way his face shifts—like he wants to laugh but can't quite.

"You okay?" I murmur, stepping close.

"Yeah," he says, eyes still on Fiona. "Just forgot how fun this place is."

I bump his shoulder lightly. "You wanna bail?"

He glances down at me, then over at Conner and Lucas who are now gleefully jumping on the torn-up couch cushions with Carl.

"...Not yet," he says. "Let 'em have their chaos."

We settle on the stairs, out of the warpath. Lip leans his head against the banister and closes his eyes for a second.

"Home sucks," he says, voice low.

I rest my head against his shoulder. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to."

"Yeah," he says. "But they do."

And for once, I don't try to fix it. I just sit there with him while the madness carries on around us, both of us quiet, both of us staying anyway.