Page 65 of Night Shift

Just the courage to trust in tomorrow.

EPILOGUE: THREE MONTHS LATER

EREBUS

Three months in, Sunday mornings have become an invention unique to this house.

Calliope sleeps curled beneath the blankets, one foot tucked beneath my leg and her hair spread across the pillow in every direction. She has explained to me several times that human sleep benefits from personal space, and after being accused of breathing on her with enough force to create visible condensation, I have taken the matter seriously. Each night, I calibrate my position with scientific rigor, allowing her precisely the amount of space she claims to require.

She inevitably crosses into mine before morning.

This morning, she stirs at 6:47, blinking sleepily at me before glancing toward the clock.

“What time is it?”

“6:47.”

Her gaze travels toward the window, where the last stars remain scattered across a sky that should have surrendered them three minutes ago.

Slowly, she looks back at me.

“Erebus. Why is it still night?”

“It is not entirely night.”

“I can literally see stars.”

“They are fading.”

Calliope reaches for her phone, squinting at the screen before giving me a look I have become intimately familiar with over the past three months.

“Sunrise was three minutes ago.”

“Two minutes and forty-eight seconds.”

She groans and pulls the comforter over her head. “We discussed this.”

“It is Sunday.”

Her face reappears from beneath the blankets, hair thoroughly disordered. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Petra does not teach yoga on Sundays, so delaying Dawn does not disrupt the community schedule.”

For several seconds, Calliope only stares at me.

“You are seriously holding the sun for me?”

“I thought you might appreciate a longer morning.”

The irritation in her face softens despite her obvious effort to maintain it. She rolls closer and presses a kiss against my jaw.

“That is profoundly sweet and also, and I cannot emphasize this enough, deeply unethical.”

“I can release Dawn immediately.”

“You should.”

I prepare to do exactly that when a violent pounding rattles the apartment door.