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Shane felt slightly awkward walking into Jerry’s place on Christmas day, but he didn’t have anywhere else to go. It was early, and he put on a pot of coffee, trying to piece together what the fuck had just happened.

He could see where Cary and Laney had gotten their inhuman good looks. And he now understood where Laney’s notable presence stemmed from. But that woman was a hurricane the likes of which he’d never seen. She’d torn apart the house in a span of like ninety seconds, so thoroughly dismissed Shane he had to check to make sure he wasn’t invisible, and despite her cheerful tone had managed the most insults in the fewest amount of words that he’d ever witnessed.

“Thought I smelled coffee,” Jerry said with a yawn. “Been makin’ my own coffee a long time… I think it’s my favourite part a’ ya bein’ here.”

He poured a mug and sat at the table, taking in Shane’s face. He sipped quietly, patiently waiting for Shane to talk.

“Laney’s mom came home, today,” he finally said.

Jerry whistled. “An’ how’d that go?”

“I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning.”

“Yup, that’s Linette.”

“Cary brought her home.”

Jerry bit his lip. “Now that’s unusual. Them two avoid each other like hookers an’ church. Cary don’ like Linette bein’ around. Gets in his way too much.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

Jerry snorted, but then drummed his fingers on the table. “I take it that’s where you disappeared to all day an’ night?”

Shane blinked, detecting a note of worry in Jerry’s voice. “Uh, yeah… I’m sorry, Jerry, I didn’t think to call you or…”

“S’ok kid, I figured as much,” he said, waving him off. “Jus’ if you think of it next time, gimme a call okay?”

A warm, tingly feeling skittered around in his gut. He’d never admit it out loud, but it was the best Christmas present he could have asked for, Jerry worrying about him. It reminded him that family didn’t always just mean blood. That Shane had… people. And that Linette or not, it had been the best twenty-four hours of his life, starting last night in the car with Laney…

“You wanna get drunk and watch Die Hard?” Shane blurted.

Jerry smiled and grabbed a bottle of whisky off the counter, pouring a heavy handful into both of their coffees. “I can’t think of a better way to spend Christmas, kid.”

Shane went into his room and stripped out of his jeans and into a pair of sweats. Then he placed the 8x10 drawing from Dustin on his dresser and frowned. He knew what was bothering him about it.

Beautiful as it was, it had the distinct feeling of an epitaph.