19

The sunlight was sneaking past the blinds, sharp and bright, and I was still in bed, tangled in Lip's arm like a stubborn octopus. He'd fallen asleep on top of me, warm and impossibly heavy, and I didn't want to move. Not yet.

"Mm, hey," I murmured, nudging him with my knee.

He groaned, rolling over onto his back, hair wild in every direction, mouth half-open. "Morning," he said, voice thick and lazy. "You awake?"

"I'm awake," I said, smirking. "You were snoring like a dying walrus."

"Wasn't snoring," he said, eyes still closed. "Just... breathing aggressively."

I laughed, poking him in the ribs. He jerked, caught my wrist, and tugged me down toward him. "You're terrible," I said, laughing harder.

"You love it," he said, half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And he was right. I did.

After a few minutes of wrestling and laughing, we finally rolled out of bed. Conner and Lucas were already at it in the living room, fighting over the "good chair," Liam sitting between them with a suspiciously gleeful expression.

Lip peeked around the corner. "What's the damage?" he asked, like he was considering whether to intervene or not.

"Do you even want to know?" I said. "Because I think if we step in, we might end up in handcuffs."

He grinned. "Or... we could just let them tear each other apart and see who survives."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop laughing. That was Lip—always teasing, always daring, never serious in the moment, even when the chaos screamed for it.

The drama didn't stop, of course. Conner shoved Lucas, Lucas screamed, and Liam started crying. I groaned. "You're both impossible," I said, shoving them apart. Lip leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching like he was enjoying a live-action soap opera.

"You could learn a thing or two from me," he said smugly. "Strategy, patience... deadly patience."

"Yeah, strategy for avoiding chores," I shot back.

He smirked, obviously enjoying it. "Exactly."

Eventually, the house calmed down enough for coffee. I poured mine, Lip grabbed his, and we sat in near silence, letting the mess of my life settle around us. Until it didn't.

"I... gotta tell you something," I said, a little nervously, twisting the handle of my mug.

"Uh-oh," Lip said, one eyebrow lifting. "Is this the dramatic life-ruining thing or the fun 'I baked cookies' thing?"

"Not cookies," I said, biting my lip. "More... complicated."

He leaned forward, curious now, serious just enough to make my stomach twist. "Complicated how?"

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed. I glanced at it and my chest sank—Greg's name flashing on the screen.

"You're kidding me," I muttered. Lip leaned over.

"It's fine. It's... probably nothing," I said, trying to sound casual, but my fingers trembled a little.

"Do you want me to deal with it?" he asked, gently.

I shook my head. "No... I've got this."

Lip's eyes softened, and he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. "Whatever it is, we handle it. Together. Sound good?"

I nodded, heart pounding.

And then... well. Then we gave up on adulting.

He kissed me like he hadn't eaten in days, and I melted into it, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer. Clothes became less important by the second, discarded haphazardly on the floor. Every brush of skin against skin, every bite and moan, made the world shrink until it was just him and me.

He was rough in the way I loved—demanding but careful, wild but attuned. I felt him memorizing every curve, every shiver, every gasp. And I didn't hold back either, clawing at his shoulders, grinding into him, tasting and touching him like I'd never get the chance again.

"God... Erin," he groaned, voice low and raw, dragging his fingers down my spine, making me arch. "You're insane."

"You love it," I breathed, laughing between gasps.

We moved together like we'd done this a hundred times before, yet it felt new every time. Heat, sweat, laughter, moans—messy, chaotic, perfect. When we finally collapsed, tangled in the sheets, the world outside my bedroom felt impossibly far away.

For a while, it stayed like that—quiet, except for our breathing. Until the phone buzzed again, and my stomach dropped.

"Greg," I muttered, staring at the screen like it might bite me.

Lip noticed immediately. "Everything okay?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But..." I swallowed hard. "He's probably trouble."

He grabbed my hand, squeezing it. "Then we'll deal with it. After coffee. After breakfast. After we breathe. Together."

I nodded, feeling that strange mix of dread and warmth—the kind that comes when you know something big is coming but also know you're not facing it alone.

Later, as Lip leaned against the counter, smirking at the chaos of my brothers bickering, I realized just how much I'd miss this if things changed. He was my chaos and my calm, my joke and my touchstone, and whatever storm was coming, I wanted him there.

"Promise me something," I said, voice quiet.

He looked down at me, eyebrows lifting. "Hm?"

"Promise me we keep laughing. Even when it's awful. Even when it's scary."

He smirked, leaning down to kiss my temple. "I promise. But you better be ready for more chaos, Erin. Because with us, it's never boring."

I smiled, letting him pull me into him again, because for now... for this moment... it was enough.