2

It was a little after 10 when I heard the knock.

Not the frantic kind — not drunk, not angry. Just soft. Hesitant. Like whoever was on the other side wasn't sure if they should even be there.

I already knew who it was.

I cracked the door open and saw Lip standing there, hands in his pockets, hoodie unzipped, hair still damp like he'd just showered. His eyes were tired but clear.

"I saw your light on," he said.

I nodded and opened the door wider. "Come in."

He stepped inside like he'd been here yesterday, not like it'd been three months. The boys were already asleep. The TV was off. It was just us and the low hum of the refrigerator, the occasional creak of the pipes.

I handed him the mug I'd been drinking from without thinking. "It's tea."

"Tea?" he raised a brow but took a sip anyway. "Who are you?"

"Someone who works double shifts and can't sleep after them."

He chuckled and leaned against the wall, sipping it again. "It's not bad."

"I've been worse," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

Silence settled between us. But it wasn't uncomfortable. Not anymore.

"You okay?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Yeah. Mostly. Just... couldn't sleep."

I nodded.

"Sometimes it's like... everything's too quiet, you know?" he said, still looking down at the mug in his hands. "Like I should be doing something, or fixing something, or fucking it up."

I smiled faintly. "You showed up. That's something."

He looked up at me then, and something passed between us — unspoken, but heavy.

I crossed the room without thinking and sat on the couch. "You can stay a while. If you want."

He hesitated, then followed. Sat beside me. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that I could feel the warmth of him.

We didn't talk for a long time. Just sat there in the glow of the hallway light, letting the silence stretch.

Then he shifted slightly.

His arm brushed mine.

I looked at him. He looked at me.

And something cracked open.

He reached out slowly — gave me time to pull away — but I didn't. His hand brushed my cheek, thumb grazing the side of my face so gently it made my breath catch.

"I've missed this," he whispered.

"Me too."

And then he kissed me.

Soft. Careful. Not like the other times. Not hungry or angry or rushed — but like he wasn't sure he was allowed and was afraid to want it too much.

But I kissed him back.

And once I did, he deepened it, his hand slipping to the back of my neck, pulling me in like he needed it — like I did.

We didn't say anything when we pulled apart.

We didn't need to.

We just sat there, breathing the same air again, like maybe the space between us had finally started to disappear.We didn't speak for a while after the kiss.

Just sat there, his hand still resting gently against the side of my neck, his thumb brushing once across my skin like he wasn't ready to let go yet.

And I wasn't ready for him to.

I leaned my head against his shoulder, slowly, like testing if the moment would hold. It did. He relaxed beneath me, breathing deep like that tiny bit of contact was enough to make something in him settle.

His arm slid around me — careful, slow — and we sat there in the quiet, bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces that still remembered how they used to fit.

"I think about you," he murmured after a long pause. "All the time."

I swallowed hard. "I know."

"I didn't think I'd get this far," he said. "Not without you."

I pulled back just enough to look up at him.

"You did," I said. "You're doing it."

He blinked a few times, jaw tight like he didn't trust himself to speak.

"You don't have to prove anything to me," I added. "You just have to keep showing up."

He nodded once, his eyes locked on mine. "I will."

I believed him.

Not because he said it — but because he meant it. I could see it in the way he held me, like I was something fragile for once, not just another thing to burn through on his worst days.

He glanced down. "Can I stay? Just for a little while."

I didn't hesitate. "Yeah."

I stood and took his hand, led him quietly through the hallway. We didn't go to my room — just the couch, the blanket I always kept tucked behind it, the familiar shape of us falling into place again like muscle memory.

He laid beside me, and I curled into him, my back pressed to his chest, his arm wrapping around my waist.

Nothing more. Just warmth. Breath. Familiar weight.

"I'm not expecting anything," he whispered against my shoulder. "I just wanted to be near you again."

I reached down and laced our fingers together beneath the blanket.

"You're here," I whispered. "That's enough."

I woke up to whispering voices and the unmistakable sound of little footsteps tiptoeing near the couch.

I cracked open one eye and saw Conner and Lucas peeking around the armrest with grins that spelled trouble.

"Erin! Lip!" Conner hissed, barely containing his laughter.

Lucas elbowed him, whisper-shouting, "Dude, not so loud!"

But it was too late.

"So, are you two back together?" Lucas asked, eyes wide. "Because you're both here... like, sleeping together."

Conner nodded like this was breaking news. "Yeah! We gotta know! Is it official now?"

I tried to curl up more, but Lip shifted, his sleepy eyes snapping open.

"Back together?" he mumbled, voice still rough. "What is this? A soap opera?"

Conner snorted. "Kinda! This is front-page Gallagher gossip."

Lucas grinned. "So, what's the deal? Is this forever?"

Lip groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. "You're way too loud. Some of us are trying to recover from the 'never speak to me again' phase."

I laughed and poked his side.

"Come on, you guys," I said to the boys. "Go get some cereal before you wake the whole block."

They exchanged triumphant looks and ran for the kitchen, still whisper-shouting theories about "what this means."

Lip rolled his eyes but smirked.

I squeezed his hand gently.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something good again.