He’d do anything to get back into your life, how things used to be.

He’d messed up more times than he’d like with you. From the beginning, too; leading you around in high school, screwing up your newly fixed relationship in college, and again when alcohol became a bigger issue for him than it already was.

After rehab, he settled again, with you. Not that you had ever stopped loving him, but that period of time was your favorite. You were both working at Fiona’s restaurant, spending all your time together, so much time in fact, you got pregnant.

He’d promised. Promised. He promised you, he would do this, he would be the best dad ever, the dad he never had, the whole speech. You believed him. In fact, you had no reason to believe he wouldn’t be a great dad, you knew him, knew he had it in him.

But it got him again. It took one night, one drink, and he was back to square one. He got mean, started fights, just about scared you out of your unofficial living at the Gallagher house, back to your own apartment.

Weeks and weeks passed be before it hit him, this was Frank behavior. He was missing the beginning of your pregnancy, watching that baby grow, talking softly to your bump.

So, again, for what felt the millionth time, he got it back together, stared going to meetings, met a sponsor, got a job. When he felt like a drink, he’d just run a few miles. He felt good.