20

The house was quiet in that rare, too-quiet kind of way when I woke up. The kind that makes you wonder if something terrible has already happened and you just haven't noticed yet. I peeked over at Lip, sprawled across my side of the bed with his arm thrown over his face, hair sticking up in all directions. He looked impossibly warm and stupidly peaceful, and for some reason it made my chest tighten.

I didn't want to wake him, so I just watched him for a while, tracing the curve of his jaw with a finger and letting the warmth of his body seep into me. He shifted, muttering something incoherent, and I smiled, leaning in close.

"Morning," I said softly, nudging him with my knee.

He groaned and rolled onto his back. "Morning," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. "You're up early."

"Somebody has to make sure Conner and Lucas don't burn the house down before noon," I said, smirking.

He laughed, that low, rough chuckle that always made me weak. "You're insane."

"Optimistically chaotic," I corrected him.

⸻

By the time we got into the kitchen, the kids were already at it. Liam was perched on the counter, frowning like a tiny general, and Conner and Lucas were arguing over who got to sit in the "good chair." Lip leaned against the doorway, coffee in hand, taking it all in like he was observing a documentary on human chaos.

"You survive this every day?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Somehow," I said, dumping cereal into bowls while juggling three mugs of coffee. "It's a talent."

He smirked. "You're ridiculously good at it. I've seen this kind of chaos before, but... you handle it."

I shrugged. "I've had practice. And sheer panic helps a lot."

Lip's gaze lingered on me longer than usual. "You know... I think I'm in love with you," he said casually, like he was talking about the weather.

I nearly dropped a bowl of cereal. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah," he said, shrugging and taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't freak out about feelings like this. But you... I don't know. You're worth it. That's all."

I blinked at him, and the ridiculous grin on his face made it hard to believe he was serious. But the way his eyes softened told me he was.

"Lip..." I whispered.

"I'm not asking you to say it back right now," he said, putting his mug down and leaning closer. "Just... know."

And then, because we were stupid and impatient, he kissed me. And it wasn't gentle. It wasn't careful. It was messy and desperate, full of laughter and gasps and all the things that made us us. Clothes ended up on the floor in a chaotic trail to the bedroom, and we fell onto the bed, tangled in each other, skin slick and hot, moans filling the small room.

"Fuck, Erin," he groaned, lips against my shoulder. "You're insane."

"Yeah," I said, grinding into him, "but you love it."

Every touch felt electric, every gasp a promise. Heat and laughter mixed with the sticky sweat of our bodies pressed together. He moved against me like he couldn't get enough, and I clung to him, hands tangling in his hair, nails raking down his back.

We collapsed in a sweaty heap, breathless, hearts pounding. He pulled me into his chest, steadying me, and for a few quiet minutes, nothing existed but us.

"You mean it?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he said, voice low. "I mean it. You're... the only thing that makes sense right now."

I rested my head on his chest, letting the warmth and sound of his heartbeat ground me. "I feel the same way."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Christ, we're a mess."

"The best kind of mess," I said.

⸻

Later, the house settled into a kind of chaotic peace. Liam was curled up on the couch, Lucas and Conner arguing over some board game, and Lip leaned against the counter, smirking.

"You know," I said, watching him, "you make chaos look... manageable."

Lip shook his head. "Nah. I just make it look like I know what I'm doing. Mostly, I'm winging it."

"Good thing we're a team, then," I said, smiling.

He grabbed my hand, squeezing it. "Team chaos," he said.

We sat there for a while, drinking coffee, the house buzzing with that strange energy that only comes when nothing is truly quiet but nothing is broken.

"You ever think about the future?" I asked quietly, leaning my head against his shoulder.

Lip shrugged. "Not really. Not in a serious way. Bills, chaos, surviving... that's usually the plan. But now? Yeah. I think about us. About you."

"You mean... like... long-term?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said casually, brushing my hair from my face. "You make me wanna think about it. And that scares the shit out of me. But... I don't want to stop thinking about it."

I smiled, heart tight in my chest. "I don't want you to stop either."

And because we couldn't help ourselves, we ended up back in the bedroom, messy and laughing, tangled in sheets, letting the heat and desperation of our bodies speak everything we couldn't. Lips and fingers and whispered curses and laughter mixed into a storm of touch, until we finally lay spent, sticky, tangled together.

⸻

We didn't get to stay in that quiet bubble for long. Just as I was starting to relax, a shadow fell across the living room. I looked up—and there he was. Greg Bishop, my father, standing in the doorway with that smirk I hated and that calm, calculating air that made my stomach drop.

"Hey," he said, voice smooth and dangerous. "Figured I'd drop by. See my kids. Make sure everyone's having a nice little life."

I froze. Lip was on his feet immediately, standing in front of me protectively. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he demanded.

Greg's eyes flicked over all of us, lingering on me, on my brothers, on Lip. "Just checking in," he said casually, as if that explained everything. "Thought it might be... fun to shake things up a bit."

My stomach twisted. I could feel Lucas and Conner stiffen behind me, and even Liam looked alarmed.

Lip stepped closer to me, one arm around my waist, jaw tight. "You don't get to just show up here, Greg. Not now, not ever."

Greg smirked, unbothered. "Oh, I think I do. You've got your little paradise here. But paradise... doesn't last."

I clenched my hands into fists, trying to stay calm. Lip's grip on me tightened. I realized something. Everything we'd built, everything we were... could be ripped apart in an instant if Greg decided it.

And then, just like that, he turned and walked toward the stairs, smirk never leaving his face. "We'll talk more later. Don't worry—I'll make sure this little paradise of yours... feels real messy."

And with that, he disappeared upstairs.

I sank against Lip, chest pounding, adrenaline making my hands shake. "He... he's here," I whispered.

"I know," Lip said, holding me tighter. "But we'll handle it. Together."

Even as my heart raced, I felt something else. A strange, fierce hope. Because whatever Greg Bishop planned, whatever mess he brought, Lip and I—us—were ready. We were chaotic, messy, maybe insane... but we were unstoppable together.

And somehow, I knew that was enough. For now.