Chapter 184 — The Brothers Turn Against Each Other
Veronica genuinely meant well for Ian.
Sure, the Gallagher kids had grown up hustling, lying, and surviving however they could—but at the end of the day, they were still just kids.
Fiona had carried far too much on her shoulders all these years.
Veronica didn't believe for a second that Lip and Ian could suddenly make something of themselves out there on their own.
More likely, they'd end up like every other dropout—scraping by, going nowhere.
If there was one thing Veronica regretted most, it was not making it to nursing school.
But even that wasn't entirely her fault. In America, med school was out of reach for most people.
Even finishing community college often meant ending up with debt and no decent job to show for it.
"Thanks, V. I'll think about it," Ian said quietly.
Unlike Lip, he wasn't burning with anger—just lost.
After leaving Kevin's place, Lip kicked a trash can on the sidewalk, venting his frustration.
Ian stood a short distance behind him, watching as Lip lashed out like a rabid dog.
He couldn't help but sigh.
"Lip! That's enough! Even if you smash the trash can, it doesn't change anything. Can we at least figure out where we're sleeping tonight?"
Lip froze.
Then he turned around, face flushed red, glaring at Ian like he was some kind of traitor.
When their eyes met, Ian felt a flicker of irritation.
This wasn't his fault—so why was Lip looking at him like that?
"What?" Ian didn't back down. He met Lip's gaze head-on.
"I don't like that look in your eyes," Lip snapped, as if picking a fight out of thin air.
"What are you talking about?" Ian frowned, confused by the sudden hostility.
"Can you stop for a second and think about where we're gonna stay tonight?" Ian repeated.
But to Lip, it sounded like an accusation.
Like Ian was blaming him—calling him useless as the older brother.
"Fuck! Stay, stay, stay—that's all you care about!" Lip shouted, pointing at him. "What's wrong with you?!"
Ian stared at him in disbelief. "What's wrong with you, Lip?"
"The hell's wrong with you! Get out! Just get the hell out! Fuck off!"
Lip had completely lost control.
His chest burned with anger he couldn't release.
Being kicked out by Fiona had hit him harder than he wanted to admit.
Then came rejection after rejection—each one piling onto the anxiety already gnawing at him.
Right now, all he wanted was a drink.
But he only had a few bucks left.
And more importantly—
he didn't have a home anymore.
No place where someone would make sure he had food, morning, noon, and night.
That helplessness was driving him insane.
Ian's constant urging only made it worse.
For the first time, Lip was starting to understand just how hard things had been for Fiona.
But instead of empathy—
he clung even harder to his own beliefs.
Family came first.
His child came first.
More accurately, he needed the feeling—the satisfaction of being someone who took responsibility.
"You're telling me to get lost?" Ian stared at him, stunned.
He couldn't believe those words had just come out of Lip's mouth.
Less than half an hour ago, Fiona had said the exact same thing to both of them.
And now Lip was repeating it.
Ian's eyes reddened.
The sting hit deeper than he expected.
Lip was stubborn to the core—like a mule.
Or rather, he was the kind of person who would never admit he was wrong, no matter what.
Unless you cornered him—unless admitting fault became the only way to avoid losing something he truly cared about.
Clearly, this wasn't that situation.
In Lip's mind, there was no way Ian would actually walk away over this.
And that was the problem—Lip was often too confident.
Too convinced everything was under his control.
"Fine. I'll go," Ian said quietly.
No shouting. No outburst.
He simply turned and walked off in the opposite direction.
Lip didn't take it seriously.
Just like Fiona had believed he'd come back to apologize, Lip believed Ian would turn around any second and come crawling back.
In that sense… they really were siblings.
Different, but not by much.
But this time—
Ian didn't come back.
Soon, Lip watched him disappear around the corner of the street.
And for the first time—he panicked.
Still, chasing after him?
His pride wouldn't allow it.
Just like Fiona hadn't chased after them, Lip refused to lower himself either.
"Fuck! Fine! Do whatever the hell you want! Go to hell, all of you!"
He roared, kicking the trash can hard.
Garbage spilled out across the street.
At the same time—
Back at home, Fiona sat on the kitchen floor, her face buried in her hands.
She tried to suppress the sound of her sobs, not wanting to wake Debbie, Carl, or Liam upstairs.
But whether she wanted to or not—
Carl still heard her.
He hadn't been asleep to begin with.
He'd heard the argument earlier.
Now, he walked over and stood beside her, unsure of what to say.
Carl wasn't the smartest in the Gallagher family—if anything, he was a little slow.
But when it came to caring about his family, he was the most genuine of them all.
Not knowing how to comfort her, he simply stayed there.
Fiona noticed him, sniffed, and looked up.
Then she opened her arms and pulled him into a tight hug—
like a little girl clinging to her doll when the world felt like it was falling apart.
Meanwhile—
At a large freight parking lot on the outskirts of the city, the scrapyard owner slapped the side of a truck cab.
"Not easy to get your hands on something like this these days," he said. "With all the highway robberies lately, truck drivers are armed to the teeth."
William glanced at the attached container—spacious enough.
He nodded. "Nice ride, Edgar."
He handed over the remaining payment.
Edgar pocketed the money with a satisfied grin. "That settles it. Pleasure doing business. Maybe we'll work together again."
"Sure," William replied casually.
Edgar got back into his car and drove off, leaving the lot behind.
William looked around.
Remote. Quiet. Perfect.
A good place for Nando to pick up the shipment.
He walked to the back and opened the container doors.
Empty.
Edgar had clearly cleared out whatever had been inside beforehand—probably sold it off.
But that didn't matter to William.
As long as he had the truck, that was all he needed.
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