Lip woke slowly, dragged up out of sleep by the light behind his eyelids and the dull awareness that the room had gone cold in that early-morning way.
For a few seconds he didn't move.
The TV was off. The room had the kind of quiet that only happened before the house fully woke up, when the walls still held onto the night and every sound seemed farther away than it really was. Pale morning light pushed through the thin curtains and stretched across the floorboards in weak strips. The blankets were tangled around his legs, warm in some places and slipping off in others.
He stared at the ceiling, not thinking much at first.
Then Mandy shifted beside him.
He turned his head.
She was curled partly toward him, hair all over the pillow, one arm tucked under her cheek. Her face still held that heavy, sleep-soft look she never had once she was fully awake. For all the sharpness in her during the day, mornings stripped some of that away for a little while. She looked less guarded like this. Not fragile, exactly. Just unarmored.
"You awake?" she mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
"Yeah."
She made a low, miserable sound and pushed her face deeper into the pillow.
"What time is it?"
Lip looked toward the window. The light was gray enough to tell him it was still too early for anyone to be happy.
"Morning."
That earned him one eye opening.
"It means it's too early for this conversation."
Mandy let out a breath through her nose and rolled onto her back, glaring up at the ceiling like the day had started without her permission.
Downstairs, a door slammed.
A second later someone started yelling about cigarettes. Missing cigarettes, maybe. Or stolen ones. Hard to tell through the floorboards. Another voice barked something back, and then the whole thing blurred into the usual house noise.
Mandy didn't even blink.
"Breakfast at your place?" she asked.
Lip looked over at her. "You really wake up with priorities."
"Your house has food."
"So does this one."
She turned her head and gave him a flat look. "Not the kind I want."
He smiled a little. "You inviting yourself over again?"
"Obviously."
He pushed himself up enough to lean back against the wall. "You know Fiona's gonna realize you only love us for the coffee."
"Good," Mandy said. "Then maybe she'll pour me more."
That actually got a laugh out of him, quiet enough not to break the morning.
Mandy caught it and narrowed her eyes. "What?"
"Nothing."
"You keep doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Looking like you know something funny and not saying it."
"I'm just impressed."
"With what?"
"With how shamelessly you use my family for breakfast."
She sat up, dragged a hand through her hair, and looked down at him with a crooked expression. "Your family uses breakfast for emotional stability. I'm participating in the culture."
He stared at her for a second. "That might be the most insane thing you've ever said."
"It's also true."
He could not really argue with that.
She swung her legs off the bed and stood, then reached for the hoodie she had tossed over the chair the night before. The room felt colder the second the blankets fell away from both of them. Lip watched her pull the hoodie over her head and shake her hair out from under it while the noise downstairs built by slow degrees.
Mandy bent to grab her shoes off the floor. "You coming, or are you planning to sit there until lunch?"
He got up and reached for his jacket. "Let's go before your house gets worse."
"It's already morning. It's at its worst."
"Optimistic."
"Realistic."
They headed downstairs together.
One of Mandy's brothers was sprawled across the couch with his mouth open, dead to the world despite the light coming in through the front window. Another stood in the kitchen with the fridge open, staring into it like food might appear if he looked angry enough. The television downstairs was on now, louder than necessary, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to it.
Neither of them paid Lip much notice.
Mandy sidestepped around the open fridge door, reached in past her brother, and took a soda from the shelf.
"That your breakfast?" Lip asked.
"It's my drink while I go get breakfast."
She popped it open, took a quick sip, and nodded toward the front door. "Move."
He held the door open for her, and the cold morning air hit them hard the second they stepped outside.
The South Side was already awake.
Kids with backpacks were heading toward school, some walking in groups, some dragging their feet like they thought moving slower might stop the day from happening. Across the street, a guy in grease-stained jeans had half his body under the hood of a car. At the corner, a couple were arguing with the kind of volume that suggested they'd been at it long enough to forget other people existed.
Mandy shoved both hands into her hoodie pockets and hunched slightly against the cold. Lip zipped his jacket higher.
"You think Fiona made anything decent?" she asked.
"She usually does."
"Good."
He glanced over at her. "You're way too invested in this."
"Your house feeds people like it's a religion."
"That's just Fiona trying to keep everybody alive."
"Exactly. She's good at it."
They crossed the street, their steps falling into the same rhythm without either of them paying attention to it. Mandy took another sip from the soda, then handed it to him like it was automatic. He took it just as easily.
"Don't drink all of it."
"So there are rules now."
"There are always rules. You just ignore them."
He drank anyway and handed it back.
A kid on a bike cut too close to the curb beside them and nearly clipped Mandy's shoulder. She swore at him without missing a step. The kid yelled something back, but he was already halfway down the block and clearly not brave enough to stop and repeat it.
Lip shook his head. "Real intimidating."
"He knew what I meant."
"Terrifying."
She bumped her shoulder lightly into his. "Keep talking and I'm drinking your coffee too."
By the time they reached the Gallagher house, the windows were fogged from the heat inside. Lip pushed open the door and the smell hit them immediately—toast, coffee, something frying in butter, and the usual lived-in scent of too many people crammed into one kitchen.
The place was already busy.
Fiona stood at the stove, moving with the kind of focus that meant she'd been up for a while and was running entirely on momentum and caffeine. Debbie was near the sink doing something with school papers that looked more irritated than productive. Carl sat at the table with a bowl of cereal big enough to count as a threat.
Fiona glanced over when they came in.
"Morning."
Mandy lifted the soda can a little in greeting. "Morning."
Fiona nodded toward the counter without missing a beat. "There's toast. Eggs in a minute."
"See?" Mandy said quietly to Lip as she walked past him. "Better house."
He snorted and shut the door behind them.
Carl looked up from his cereal. "You slept here again?"
"Not here," Mandy said, already reaching for a plate.
Carl shrugged. "Close enough."
"That doesn't make any sense," Debbie muttered, not looking up.
"It makes enough."
Lip grabbed a plate of his own and dropped into a chair while Mandy sat down beside him like she'd been doing it forever. Maybe she had, in one way or another. Fiona slid another piece of toast onto the stack, then finally poured herself coffee.
"You two even pretending you're going to school?" she asked.
Lip looked at Mandy.
Mandy looked at Lip.
Both of them gave some version of a shrug.
Fiona closed her eyes for half a second like she was reconsidering every life choice that had led to this kitchen.
"Unbelievable," she muttered.
"Lets not be dramatic," Lip said.
"No, dramatic would be me dragging both of you there myself."
Carl pointed his spoon toward Mandy. "You should stay for lunch too."
Mandy leaned back in the chair. "You asking because you like me or because Fiona cooks?"
Carl considered it. "Mostly because Fiona cooks."
"Honest answer," Mandy said.
Debbie snorted. Fiona didn't bother reacting, which probably meant she agreed.
The kitchen settled into its usual rhythm after that. Fiona moving between the stove and the table. Carl eating like someone might snatch the bowl away at any second. Debbie digging through her bag while complaining under her breath about a worksheet she'd probably left unfinished on purpose. Plates clinking. Cabinet doors opening and shutting. Coffee being poured. Somebody upstairs moving around enough to make the floor creak.
And through all of it, Mandy fit there with an ease that kept catching Lip off guard.
She wasn't tentative. Didn't hover at the edge like a guest trying not to overstep. She reached for toast without asking, accepted the coffee Fiona set near her with a quick thanks, and took a sip like it was exactly where she belonged.
Maybe that was what got to him.
Not that Mandy was in the Gallagher kitchen. That part made sense. She had probably been in and out of it plenty of times. It was the way nobody questioned it. Fiona fed her without ceremony. Carl gave her shit the same way he gave everyone shit. Debbie barely bothered glancing up. There was no performance in it. No awkwardness. She was just there.
Like this had already been normal for longer than he understood.
Mandy nudged his leg under the table.
He looked over.
"You gonna eat that," she asked, "or keep staring at it like it insulted you?"
He glanced down at the toast in his hand and realized he had stopped mid-thought again.
"Relax."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile pulling at her mouth now.
He took a bite.
Fiona finally set down a plate of eggs and reached for her own mug. "I swear, one day I'm charging all of you."
Carl frowned. "I got like thirty cents."
"Then you're already behind."
Debbie laughed. Mandy hid a smile behind her coffee. Lip leaned back slightly in his chair and let the noise move around him.
It should have felt crowded. Maybe even suffocating.
Instead, it felt steady.
The toast was a little too dark around the edges. Carl was talking with his mouth full. Fiona looked like she needed six more hours of sleep and a miracle. Mandy was beside him, warm from the walk, stealing half the better pieces off the toast stack when she thought no one was looking.
It was loud and messy and completely ordinary.
And somehow, that was the part he liked.
He glanced at Mandy again.
She caught him immediately. "What?"
"Nothing."
"That's twice now."
Before he could answer, Carl said something dumb enough to drag everybody's attention his way, and the moment broke on its own.
The kitchen stayed noisy. Fiona kept cooking. Debbie kept complaining. Mandy kept drinking Fiona's coffee like she had every right to it.
Just another morning at the Gallagher house.
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