Night settled over the block. Streetlights hummed. The Gallagher porch light washed the steps with a pale cone.
Frank Jr. came up the walk with two stacks of pizza and paper bags hooked on his fingers. Chips rattled. Sodas clinked. A box of cookies tipped in the top bag like a secret.
He shouldered the door open. Warmth rolled out. He stepped inside—and almost walked into Steve, who was in the hallway holding Liam.
Frank blinked once. "You live here now?"
Steve smiled. "Just visiting."
"Because you were here this morning," Frank said, nudging the door shut with his heel.
Lip, leaning on the couch arm, lifted a hand. "Asked him the same thing."
"Leave him alone," Fiona said from the kitchen doorway. She looked tired and steady. "He helped today."
Frank set the pizzas on the table. "Then he can help set the table." He lifted the bags. "Plates, cabinet. Cups, under the sink. Carl, wash your hands. Soap. Real soap."
Carl hovered, eyes wide. "How many pizzas?"
"Enough," Frank said, flipping open lids. Steam rose. "Pepperoni, sausage, veggie, and pineapple for Debbie."
"Pineapple isn't weird," Debbie said, grabbing napkins.
"It's weird," Lip said.
Ian came down pulling on a sweatshirt, saw the spread, and whistled. "Upgraded."
"Sit," Frank said. "Eat."
They slid into places with their old, practiced shuffle. Slices vanished. Steve poured water for Fiona, then for himself like he'd been told once and remembered. Liam smacked a spoon and squealed.
Carl took a huge bite and spoke around it. "I love you more and more, Frank."
"Chew," Fiona said. "No proposals at dinner."
Carl swallowed. "Still love him."
Frank saluted with two fingers. "Duly noted."
Lip watched over the soda bottle, eyes sharp. "Busy day?"
"Full shift," Frank said.
"Doing what?"
"Work," Frank said, passing chips to Ian. "Grab them before Carl inhales."
Ian grinned. "I can outrun him."
"You wish," Carl said, reaching anyway.
Fiona cut it off with a look. "Eat. Questions later."
They ate. For a while it was just pizza and the soft hum of the new fridge.
"Cookies after," Frank said, lifting the bakery box. "Bribe for homework."
Debbie lit up. "Deal."
Carl frowned. "I only do homework if it stares me down."
"It will," Frank said. "It has eyes."
Carl grinned.
The knock came in the middle of second slices. Three quick raps with purpose.
"I got it," Debbie said, already up. She opened the door.
Tony stood on the porch in uniform, cap tucked under his arm. He looked past Debbie into the living room, eyes snagging a second on Steve, then back to her. Behind him, his partner held up Frank Sr., limp and listing. Sr.'s head lolled; his breath fogged the cold.
"Evening," Tony said, gentle. "Found someone of yours."
Hope flickered across Debbie's face. She looked back to the table, to Frank Jr.
Frank was already standing, one hand on the chair. He shook his head once.
Debbie stepped onto the porch. "He's freezing."
"He's drunk," Frank said, calm.
"It's cold," she said, smaller. "Please."
Fiona came to the doorway, towel in her hands. Her eyes moved from Debbie to Tony to Frank. Old math. New line. She said nothing.
Tony shifted, reading what sat in that silence. "He was out on a bench on Archer," he said. "Didn't feel right to leave him there."
"I get it," Frank said. "But he can't come in here. Not like that."
Tony looked at Fiona. She didn't save him. He looked at Debbie. She wanted yes so much it hurt.
Steve stayed quiet.
Lip leaned back, watching like a guy who had seen this exact scene and counted the outcomes.
Ian stared at the floor. Liam banged his spoon at nothing.
Tony's partner hitched Sr. higher. "What do we do then?"
Frank met Debbie's eyes. "No Frank Zone," he said, soft but firm. "We meant it."
Her eyes went shiny. "He's our dad."
"He's a bomb when he's like this," Frank said. "He blows up the room."
Silence pressed in. The heater clicked on and pushed a breath of warm air that felt thin.
Fiona moved to stand beside Debbie, not between. "We set the rule," she said, steady. "We keep it."
Debbie looked at her, wounded and young. She nodded once because she had to.
Frank turned to Tony. "Please take him back where you found him," he said. "Or a shelter. Or ER if he needs it. But not here. Not tonight."
Tony took it, a small nod that said he wanted to argue but wouldn't. "Okay."
Sr. stirred, eyes slitting open. He stared at the rectangle of warm light and tried to point. "My home," he slurred. He saw Frank Jr. and managed a crooked smile. "Tyrant."
Frank didn't move.
Tony and his partner eased Sr. down the steps. Cold slid in, clean. Debbie gripped the edge of the door like she could anchor the moment.
Tony paused at the bottom. "You need anything," he said to Fiona, not to Steve, not to Frank, "you call."
"Thanks, Tony," she said.
He nodded and went. The cruiser's taillights washed the porch red. Then the street went quiet again.
Debbie closed the door. The click rang through the room.
She walked back to the table and sat. She didn't look at Frank. She picked up her slice, set it down, picked it up again.
No one spoke. The TV made color on the wall. Liam babbled and whacked his spoon like that could fill the gap.
Frank sat. He looked around the table. "We're not his rehab," he said. "We're his family. That's not the same job."
Lip's mouth bent. "And if he dies out there?"
"Then he dies the way he chose," Frank said. "Not in the middle of us."
Fiona let out a breath she'd been holding. "Eat," she said. "Before it's cold."
They did. Not as loud. Not as fast. Steve reached for the cookie box, then passed it to Debbie first. She took one without a word.
Carl broke the quiet. "If he sobers up, can he come over tomorrow?"
"If he's sober," Frank said. "He knocks. He eats. He leaves."
Carl nodded like rules could be a grip.
Ian pushed back his plate. "I have a late shift," he said. "I'll do dishes before I go."
"I'll help," Steve said.
Lip snorted. "You sure you know our sink?"
"I can learn," Steve said, small smile.
Fiona looked at him and, for once, didn't test him. "Soap's under the sink," she said.
Frank gathered empty boxes, flattened them, and carried them to the bin. He came back and topped off cups like he belonged to the room.
Debbie finally looked at him. The shine was gone. Tired stayed. "Can we watch a movie after homework?"
"Yeah," he said. "You pick."
"Something happy," she said.
"Happy it is."