BOOK 2 teaser

Three years later, the South Side still smelled the same—takeout, garbage, the faint burn of something frying too long—but inside the little Bishop house, things felt quieter. Not calm, exactly, just... settled.

Lucas was nine now—quick, mischievous, always bouncing around and somehow managing to be both annoying and brilliant. Conner, at thirteen, had the awkward edge of early teen years, but he was fiercely protective of Lucas and me in ways that made my chest both swell and ache.

Lip and I were twenty-one. We'd broken up about a year ago. It hadn't been dramatic, but it had hurt. I had needed stability, a chance to focus on my brothers, and Lip... well, he was still Lip. Brilliant, impulsive, chaotic, and completely unable to slow down for anyone but himself. He'd been seeing Mandy Milkovich casually, which I wasn't thrilled about, but we'd agreed to keep things civil. Somehow, that had turned into a fragile friendship—flirty, messy, and tense all at once.

I was in the kitchen, trying to get Lucas to eat something other than dry cereal, while Conner scrolled on his phone, muttering sarcastic commentary under his breath.

"Lucas, come on, at least try a bite," I said.

"Erin, I'm fine," he said, smirking.

"You're nine. You're not fine until you eat something," I replied.

Lip appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with a coffee cup in hand, smirk plastered across his face. "You ever think about how nuts this all is?" he asked, watching Lucas shove cereal into his mouth like it was a competitive sport.

"All the time," I muttered.

"You look good, though," he added casually, tipping his head at me. "Even in chaos mode."

I shrugged. "Thanks. And you... you've been busy," I said carefully.

He smirked. "Yeah. Life's short. I'm enjoying it."