Page 38

Shane had never seen Laney so happy.

They’d returned from the tree lot with a slightly lopsided Christmas tree that Laney said “felt right”. Shane had screwed it into a base he filled with water, and then surprised Laney with several boxes of Christmas tree ornaments he had picked up at Walmart late the night before.

They’d spent hours watching her hem and haw over the placement of each one, Dustin on the ground with his sketch pad, Shane lounging on the couch, his long legs splayed wide, comfortable and easy.

Cary had phoned the house twice, wanting to speak to Laney. Both calls had been short and hadn’t seemed to bother her too much, apart from a few furtive glances in his direction and some mmhmm’s . The first was to tell her he was going to be home late. The second was to tell her he was going to be home really late.

When the tree was finally done to her satisfaction, Dustin had appeared with two packages and handed the first one to Laney – it was wrapped in brown packing paper, hand painted with funny little gnomes wearing birthday hats.

She beamed at him and tore it open, giggling at the wide assortment of fuzzy socks, knee socks, and ankle socks, all Christmas-themed.

Then, to Shane’s surprise, Dustin handed the second one to him.

He ran a hand over the brown packing paper. “Now?” he asked. Dustin nodded.

His wasn’t decorated like Laney’s, it just said Shane in large, surprisingly elegant script.

Inside was an 8x10 framed drawing of a red rose so dark it was almost black and an artful tangle of vines. There was something violent about it; the fallen petals looked like little hearts being choked by the vines and thorns. To the left of the rose was a butterfly in profile, beautiful and delicate. Somehow, the whole thing looked like a skull.

It was remarkable, but it made him uneasy. There was something about it he couldn’t put his finger on…

“I haven’t been given a present in a long time,” Shane said to cover up the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Thank you, Dustin.”

They spent the rest of the evening listening to terrible Christmas music and baking. They made pasta from scratch, which took forever and turned out like mush. They built a gingerbread house. They baked a birthday cake, Christmas cookies, and breakfast muffins for the morning.

Dustin passed out on the barstool, head in his arms on the counter, face covered in flour. Shane eased him out of his seat with a warm smile and carried him to bed.

The air mattress was full, and had been made up with fresh sheets, and his heart squeezed again. This little odd-couple, Dustin and Laney, felt more like family than anyone had in… forever.

Laney laced her fingers through his, and quietly led him back into the hall. Shane’s heart hammered, thinking she was going to try to lead him downstairs and honestly not sure he’d have the reserves to say no, but she pulled him down onto the floor in the living room, where she tucked herself between his legs and wrapped his arms around her, both of them facing the tree.

The glow of the tree was soft, and magical, and she breathed a contented sigh.

They stayed like that, unmoving, until dawn broke. He didn’t care that his ass was asleep. He didn’t care that his broken hand was aching. He didn’t care about anything except her.

That’s when they both heard a car pull into the driveway.

With a heavy sigh, they stood up awkwardly with cracking joints and wobbly limbs. Laney rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stifling a yawn.

“Merry Christmas” he murmured and pulled her in for a quick one-armed hug. Knowing he was already pushing his luck and that Cary had probably expended the entire next year’s quota of privacy they’d get, he wrapped his other arm around her, too. She molded to him like clay, and even though he heard the front door open and shut, and the shifting of winter clothes, and footsteps on the stairs, he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“Baaaaaaabyyyyyyyy…” came a smoky, unfamiliar voice. “Happy birthdaaaaaaaaay!”

Laney tensed and Shane looked up in surprise.

Cary was leaning against the mirrored closet with his arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other, an amused expression on his face.

Teetering towards them was a blonde woman with dark red lips, who probably wouldn’t have been much taller than Laney if it weren’t for the giant stilettos. She was wearing too much makeup, but Shane recognized that beauty. She looked just like Cary, underneath it all.

“Hi, Ma,” Laney said.