4

The diner was closed today. Something about health inspectors? I have no clue. But I'm not complaining about the day off.

I still sent Conner and Lucas over to the Gallaghers. I hardly get any time to myself anymore, so I'm taking this opportunity to clean up the house a little, and maybe take a nap.

I'm a couple of hours into my me day when there's a knock at the door.

"Fuck me," I mutter, dragging myself up off the couch.

When I open the door, I freeze.

"Holy shit," I whisper.

Standing there is my dad.

He looks older. Tired. More gray in his hair than I remember. He's staring at me like he's memorizing every inch of my face, a half-smile pulling at his mouth.

"Can I come in?" he asks quietly.

"Why?" I shoot back. "You don't just show up unannounced after all this time and expect to walk in like it's nothing."

"Erin, please. Just let me in. We need to talk. It's serious."

Something in his voice makes my stomach drop.

"Oh. Um... okay." I step aside slowly and let him in.

He glances around the small apartment as he walks in. "Where are the boys?"

"At the Gallaghers'," I say, sinking onto the edge of the couch. "Figured I'd take the day to breathe."

"Good." He sits beside me and exhales like he's about to drop a bomb. "I need you to promise not to freak out."

"I've been raising two kids alone for almost four years. Pretty sure I've hit my freak-out quota."

He doesn't laugh. He just reaches over and grabs my hand.

"Your mom's dead."

My brain doesn't catch up to the words right away.

"Wait... what?"

"She died last night," he says gently. "OD. They called me. I was still listed as her emergency contact at the hospital. That's how I got this address."

Everything inside me stills. For a second, I can't even breathe. My heart feels like it's just dropped through the floor.

"You're just gonna show up here, say that, and disappear again? Leave me and the boys parentless?" I ask, standing up as my throat tightens.

"No. I'm not." He stands, too. "I'm going to sell my place and move out here. I want to buy a house nearby, stay close so you don't have to uproot the boys. I want to be here. I need to be here."

I stare at him, hard. "You mean that?"

"I do. I thought about you and the kids every single day. I know I don't deserve a second chance, but I'm begging you—let me try. Let me fix this."

"You can't just undo years of—of nothing," I say, voice cracking. "You left me. You left them. You don't get to just come back and pretend you didn't."

"I'm not pretending anything. I fucked up. I know that. But I want to be better. For you. For Conner. For Lucas." He pauses, eyes glossy. "I want to be your dad again."

I wipe my face on my sleeve and laugh bitterly. "I work every day that school's out. Haven't had time to feel like a kid since I was sixteen."

"Well, you shouldn't have to anymore," he says, stepping forward and resting a hand on my shoulder. "I want you to live. Just for a little while. You've earned that."

That's when the dam breaks. All of it—the pain, the loneliness, the pressure I've carried on my back for years—comes rushing out.

He pulls me into his arms, and I just cry. I don't even care how long it lasts.

Then there's another knock at the door.

I wipe my face and head over, breathing deep as I open it.

Lip stands there holding a ziplock bag.

"Oh. Uh... is this a bad time?" he asks, glancing over my shoulder at Greg.

"No. It's fine." I clear my throat. "Lip, this is my dad. Dad—this is Lip."

Lip sticks out a hand. "Hey. I'm Lip."

"Greg," my dad says, giving him a nod and shaking his hand.

"I just came to drop this off." Lip holds out the bag. "Leftover pizza from last night. Figured you and the boys might want it for dinner."

I take the bag with a small smile. "Thanks. That's really nice of you."

"Yeah. Don't worry about it." He lingers for a second. "I'll text you later."

"Okay."

He gives one last glance to Greg, then leaves.

I shut the door and turn to see my dad smirking.

"I thought you didn't have time for friends."

"I don't," I mutter, walking to the kitchen. "That's just Conner's friend's older brother."

"Uh-huh." He follows me. "Well, I don't think he sees himself that way. Guys don't drop off food just for the hell of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, turning around.

"He's into you," my dad says flatly.

"Oh no. No way. I barely know him. Besides, he's seeing someone."

"You sure about that?"

"I'm... pretty sure." But the words don't feel as solid as I want them to.

"Well," he says, cracking open a bottle of water, "he looked like a guy who was bringing dinner to someone he gives a shit about."

I turn back to the counter, ignoring the weird flutter in my stomach. "You're delusional."

He grins. "Maybe. But I've been a guy. I know what it looks like."

Before I can reply, my phone buzzes.

hey. you okay?

I smile down at the screen, then glance back at Greg.

"Don't say it," I warn.

He holds up his hands. "Didn't say a word."

But the grin on his face says it all.

My phone buzzes again.

just wanted to check. if you need anything... or wanna hang out or whatever. no pressure.

I stare down at it, thumb hovering over the keyboard, when the front door swings open.

"Erin!" Conner's voice echoes through the apartment. "Lucas hit me with that stupid sword again—"

"I did not!" Lucas shouts behind him, out of breath.

"Guys, knock it off," I call automatically. "I swear, one more argument and you're both—"

They both freeze in the doorway when they see Greg standing in the living room.

Conner's eyes go wide. Lucas clutches the plastic sword against his chest.

Greg stands up slowly, like any sudden movement might scare them off.

"Hey," he says softly. "Hi, boys."

Neither one speaks at first.

Then Conner whispers, "Dad?"

Lucas's eyes flick to me, then back to Greg. "Is that really him?"

"Yeah," I say quietly. "It's really him."

Greg kneels down, his voice cracking a little. "I missed you guys so much."

There's a pause—and then Conner drops his backpack and sprints across the room, throwing his arms around Greg's neck. Lucas follows right behind, crashing into him like a cannonball.

Greg hugs them tight, pressing his face into their hair. His shoulders shake a little.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so sorry I was gone."

I watch them, arms crossed over my chest, eyes burning. I'd imagined this scene a hundred times—but never thought it would actually happen.

Eventually, the boys pull back. Conner's grinning, teary-eyed. Lucas is already talking a mile a minute, showing Greg a scrape on his elbow like nothing ever changed.

And somehow, for the first time in years, the apartment doesn't feel so heavy.

About ten minutes later, there's another knock.

I glance at the door, heart already knowing who it is.

Sure enough, Lip's standing there again—this time with a grocery bag in hand.

"Okay, now definitely tell me if this is bad timing," he says, glancing past me to where the boys are still glued to Greg's side.

"Not bad," I say. "Just... intense."

"I figured you might not have had time to shop," he says, holding out the bag. "Some stuff for sandwiches. And fruit. And chocolate pudding 'cause Lucas likes that, right?"

I blink. "How do you even know that?"

"He told me once. I listen sometimes." He shrugs.

Greg walks over, carrying a half-unwrapped fruit snack Lucas shoved into his hand. He gives Lip a nod. "Appreciate this, man."

"No problem," Lip says. "Glad to help."

Greg turns to me. "Hey. Why don't you go out for a bit? Clear your head."

"What?" I ask. "No, I can't—"

"You've done enough for today. I've got the boys. We're good."

I glance over at the couch, where Lucas is already putting on some cartoon they've watched a hundred times. Conner is digging in the grocery bag like it's Christmas morning.

Greg nudges me gently toward the door. "Go. Be a teenager. Hang out with your... friend." His tone dips slightly on that last word.

Lip raises an eyebrow. "I mean, no pressure. We can just walk. Or sit somewhere."

I hesitate for a second. Then grab my hoodie from the chair.

"Okay. But if they light anything on fire—"

"I'll blame your brother," Greg grins. "Go. You deserve it."

I glance back at the boys one more time. Then follow Lip out the door.

As soon as we're outside, the air hits my lungs different. Lighter. Like I'd been underwater for four years and someone finally pulled me up.

Lip looks over at me. "So... that was him, huh?"

"Yeah." I exhale slowly. "That was him."

"You doing okay?"

"I don't know yet."

He nods like he gets it. "Well... you don't have to be. Not right away."

We walk in silence for a few blocks. It's easy, the way it is with Lip. Nothing forced.

"Thanks for all the stuff, by the way," I say eventually. "The pizza. And now this."

He kicks a pebble down the sidewalk. "You always look out for everyone else. Figured someone should do the same for you."

I don't know what to say to that. So I don't.

Instead, I look up at the sky. It's that soft, fading gray-blue of early evening. Not quite sunset. Not quite dark.

"I feel like I'm waiting for it to all fall apart again," I admit.

"Maybe it won't," Lip says. "Maybe this time something actually sticks."

We walk a little farther. And for once, I let myself believe that maybe he's right.We walk past the park, then the closed-down corner store with the busted neon sign that never actually lit up. Neither of us says much, but the silence feels less awkward now, more like... space to breathe.

Lip nudges my shoulder lightly. "You always walk this fast, or are you trying to escape?"

"I don't even realize I'm doing it," I admit. "I've kind of been stuck in survival mode for a long time."

He nods like he knows what that feels like. "Yeah. I get that."

We stop by the old wooden fence near the playground. It's mostly empty this time of day—just a couple of teenagers loitering on the far side, kicking at the mulch.

I lean against the fence, folding my arms. Lip stands next to me, close enough that our elbows brush.

"It's weird," I say. "Having him back."

"Your dad?"

I nod. "He looks older. Smaller, somehow. And I think I hated him for so long that I don't even know what to do with him now that he's trying."

"You don't have to figure it all out tonight."

"I know. I just..." I trail off. "I used to dream about him showing up again. Walking in the door, apologizing, fixing everything. But it never happened. So I stopped waiting."

Lip looks over at me. "And now that he's here?"

"I don't know if I'm mad... or just scared he'll leave again."

He doesn't say anything right away. But then he reaches down and brushes his hand against mine—just barely. I don't pull away.

"You don't have to trust him all at once," Lip says quietly. "You don't owe him that."

I turn to face him. "You're really good at saying the exact thing I need to hear."

He gives me a half-smile. "That's a new skill. I'm still practicing."

I laugh, just a little, and he shifts closer. We're standing only inches apart now. I can feel the warmth coming off him.

"Thanks for showing up today," I say. "Twice."

He shrugs, eyes on mine. "Wasn't gonna leave you to deal with all that by yourself."

The silence between us thickens, but not in a bad way. He's looking at me differently now—less like I'm fragile, more like I'm real.

And before I can talk myself out of it, I lean in.

He meets me halfway. The kiss is soft, slow, a little hesitant—like we're both testing the waters. It doesn't last long, but when we pull back, I feel something shift. Like the ground underneath me isn't so shaky anymore.

Lip clears his throat softly. "Uh... that okay?"

"Yeah," I say. "More than okay."

He grins and looks down at his shoes, just for a second. "Good."

We stand there a little longer, letting the quiet settle around us again.

Eventually, I glance toward the direction of home. "I should probably get back. Make sure Lucas hasn't convinced Greg to give him candy for dinner."

"Fair," Lip says. "Mind if I walk you back?"

I shake my head. "No. I'd like that."

So we walk back together, slower this time. Side by side, no rush, like for once—just this once—there's actually time to take it in.