BY THE time Sawyer tromped down the stairs, it was five after nine. From his seat in the corner, Marc watched him stumble into the kitchen and squint at the clock above the stove. “Damn it!”
“It‘s no big deal,” Marc said, hiding his smirk when Sawyer jumped at the sound of his voice. “I kind of expected we‘d oversleep. I told Finn to go ahead.”
“I thought you‘d gone without me.” Sawyer turned in a circle, searching for a clean coffee mug. In deference to Bruce, he‘d donned shorts and a