Only You - [Lip Gallagher]

give me liberty or give me 10,000

The next morning I woke up to the sound of the front door closing. "What the fuck?" I mutter, slipping out of Lip's tight grip and quickly creeping downstairs. Just when I peer around the corner I see Carl, "Baby!" I shout, running over to him, "Hi." He smiles, hugging me tightly and slightly lifting me off the ground, "Jesus you're strong." I say, gripping his biceps, "And the little uniform." I coo at him and touch his academy hat, "Yeah, yeah." He waves me off. "Where's everyone and why is Neil on the couch?" "Asleep and I have no clue." I smile, "You hungry? Need me to make you something?" I ask, "No, I got it." He says, wiggling the brown grocery bag, "Oh, you're gonna make breakfast?" I say, surprised. "Of course, you guys always did it for me. My turn. Go back up to bed, I'll call you when it's ready." Carl says, stepping over Frank and begins to take out the groceries. I stare at him for a moment, amazed at how grown up he is already.

++

"Thank you for breakfast babe." I say, kissing the top of his head and clearing plates, "Yeah, seriously. I'm so impressed." Fiona smiles at him. "Least I could do." Carl says. "Can any of you come to the morgue with me to figure out what to do with Monica's body?" Fiona asks, "I have class, I missed like four lectures already, I can't miss any more." I say. "I'll come. After losing the Alibi I have nothing but time." V sighs, "What happened to the Alibi?" Carl asks, "Svet stole it." Kev says. "Bye guys." I say, "Love you guys." I call as I walk out the door.

Just as I was about to drive off, Ian ran to my car, "Hey, give me a ride?" He asks and I nod. "So, what happened to Mick?" I ask as we drive off. "He crossed the border. I couldn't do it but it fucking hurt to watch him leave." Ian explains. "Have you spoke to him?" "No, have you?" "No." I huff; I hope he's okay. "You doing ok?" I ask, "Numb. Monica dead isn't what I expected to come back home to." He sighs, "You and Trevor?" "No clue. You and Lip?" I chuckle at the question, "Who the fuck knows."

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"Hey Sadie!" Parker calls me from across the atrium, "I'm sorry for the last time we spoke." Parker says, catching up to me. "It's fine." I say, not breaking my stride. "No, I shouldn't have went there because I get it. Sometimes the only reason why we won't let go of something that makes us sad is because it was the last thing that made us happy." He tries to therapist me, "What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, stopping dead in my tracks and turning towards him. "That boy, you still care for him because he's your ex I'm assuming and the last person to hurt you and make you happy." Parker says, "I didn't ask for a therapy session." I roll my eyes and begin to walk away again. "Am I wrong?" Parker chuckles, grabbing my bicep and pulling me back towards him. "Don't grab me like that." I say, pulling my arm out of his tight grip, "And yes, you're wrong. I care about him because he's family. I've taken care of his siblings since one of them was eighteen months old and now he's six. You don't know shit about them or me." I defend. "I'm pretty sure I do, it's my job to read people." "Well, maybe you should major in something else because if you could read any of us, you'd know you're far off, Parker." I say before walking to class, "Don't deny it beautiful." "Fuck off, Parker." I mutter before the door shuts behind me.

Who the fuck is he to tell me my feelings? He wasn't even right either! I care for him because I care for him not because he was the last person that made me happy. He never got the chance to make me happy, he was too busy with other girls. So why is it that I care so much about him?

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"What's going on?" I ask as I see the Gallaghers around the table. "Seven pounds of fucking meth that he wants to sell!" Fiona yells, "It's your mother's legacy to her children!" Frank yells at her. "Like a family heirloom but with drugs." Frank adds, "It's getting flushed down the toilet!" Fiona insists. "Nobody flushes seventy thousand dollars worth of maternal bequest." Frank says, "Jesus." I mutter at the price. "How much?" Lip asks. "A pound of high quality methamphetamine, which this is, one the street is worth ten grand." Frank says, showing us one bag. "You each have a bag, what you do with your pound is your choice." Frank says, looking at me, "You too. She told me to make sure you get something, god knows why." Frank mutters the last phrase. "I want one thousand from each of you since you know I could've just sold this myself but I decided to honor my beloved wife." Frank says. All of us are silent, we could all use this money.