9

The end of Lip's semester was this week.

Not like I've been counting or anything.

We still haven't really talked much. A few texts here and there. Mostly short replies about Conner and Lucas, or the occasional joke he'd send me like we were still something. But I was glad he stuck it out. College. The one thing I always hoped he wouldn't screw up.

Except, apparently—he had.

I wasn't trying to snoop. I swear I wasn't. I'd dropped Conner off at the library for a group project and ended up running into one of Lip's friends—this guy Derrick I'd seen around before, the one who was always tagging along when Lip still lived at home.

He looked surprised to see me. Weird. Shifty, even.

"You uh... seen Lip?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "Not really. Why?"

Derrick scratched the back of his neck. "Nothing, just—man, he's been on one lately. I thought he'd told you what happened."

He didn't say more, but that was enough. I asked questions. Pushed a little.

And eventually, Derrick cracked.

"He lost his financial aid," he muttered. "Didn't submit the FAFSA stuff or whatever. Missed deadlines. Got dropped."

My stomach turned.

"Why wouldn't he tell me that?"

Derrick shrugged. "I dunno. But that's not even the worst part. You didn't hear this from me, alright?"

"Derrick."

"He went off on one of his professors. Dr. Hayden. Guy wouldn't sign some appeal thing to help him get his aid back, and Lip... lost it."

I stared at him.

"He smashed the guy's car. Like full-on took a crowbar to the windows. Campus cops called the dean. He got kicked out last week."

I didn't even know what to say.

Lip. Expelled. Again.

And he hadn't said a word.

⸻

Two Days Later

It was late.

I'd just finished folding laundry when someone knocked at the front door. One of those slow, uneven knocks. I froze.

When I opened it, the cold hit first. Then the smell—alcohol. Cheap and strong. Lip was leaning against the doorframe, hoodie soaked, eyes bloodshot.

"Jesus, Lip."

"Hi," he slurred.

I moved aside just enough for him to stumble in. He almost tripped over his own feet.

"You drunk?"

He laughed, collapsing onto the edge of the couch. "What tipped you off?"

I stood over him, arms crossed. "What the hell happened?"

He rubbed his face. "I got kicked out."

I didn't say anything.

He looked up at me, eyes glassy. "They said 'violent outburst.' That's what they called it. I call it being fed up."

"You smashed your teacher's car?"

"He's a piece of shit," Lip snapped. "Wouldn't help. Wouldn't sign my appeal. Knew I needed that aid and still acted like it wasn't his problem."

"So you smashed his car."

"With a tire iron," he muttered. "Broke the windshield first."

I closed my eyes.

"I don't even know what to say," I whispered.

"I know," he mumbled. "I didn't want you to find out like this. I didn't want you to see me like this."

"Then why come here?"

He looked at me, and for a second, the bravado cracked.

"Because I didn't know where else to go."

Lip didn't say anything for a long moment. Just sat there, head in his hands, breathing heavy with the weight of everything he'd done and lost.

I pulled off my coat and sat beside him, careful not to crowd him.

"You're not going back to college," I said softly.

He looked up at me, eyes full of defeat.

"No," he said. "Not after this. Not after everything."

I nodded. "Then what now?"

Lip swallowed hard. "I don't know. I don't have a plan. I'm fucked, Erin."

"No one's untouchable, Lip. And no one's beyond fixing. You just gotta start somewhere."

He looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was.

"Come stay for a bit," I said. "Get cleaned up. Get your head straight."

He hesitated, then finally nodded.

I helped him up, and for the first time in a long time, Lip didn't try to run away.

We went into the kitchen. I filled a glass with water, handed it to him.

"Start there," I said.

He took it, fingers trembling slightly.

I knew it wasn't going to be easy. Or fast. But maybe it was a start.

Lip sat beside me on the front steps of the house, pulling at a loose thread in his sweatshirt. The air was still cold, but the sky had that kind of glow that made it feel like spring wasn't too far off.

"I've been a mess without you," he said quietly.

I looked at him, studied the way his eyes didn't run this time. "You didn't try very hard to fix it."

"I didn't know how." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Amanda was just... something to fill the silence. It never meant anything."

"I know," I said, surprising both of us.

He looked over. "You do?"

"Yeah. I mean, I hate that it happened. I still get angry sometimes. But I know you, Lip. And I know when you're running."

He let out a breath. "I'm tired of running."

We sat in silence for a minute.

"I don't want to fall back into what we were," I said. "We were good, but we were reckless. And you... you've got stuff to figure out. Your drinking, for one."

He nodded slowly. "I know. I've been trying. It's just... easier to spiral than to climb out."

"I'll help you," I said. "But I'm not babysitting you. I'm not gonna be your mom."

"I don't want you to be," he said. "I just want you."

Something in my chest twisted. "Then we try again. For real. But you have to show up, Lip. You can't disappear on me."

"I won't," he said, voice thick. "Not again."

I reached out and rested my hand over his. He flipped it, laced our fingers together.

And then he leaned in, slowly, like he was making sure I wouldn't bolt.

I didn't.

Our lips met — soft, familiar, steady.

Not fireworks. Not desperate.

Just a quiet kind of love that still had a heartbeat.