9:57 p.m., Monday, August 13th

As Chance settled on the sofa, he wondered to himself if it were possible to die of frustration. Not just sexual frustration either, though that was so thick in the air, he swore he could smell it. But the frustration of being so close to someone and still being held at arm’s length.

Kit was holding back, and Chance wanted so badly to know why. He had his suspicions, but there was no way to confirm them without having a conversation he’d rather not have right now. Not when they were exhausted and drunk and burdened with so much fear.

Even in the more relaxed moments—when they were playing games and joking around—the gravity of their situation hovered over them. Quite literally, in the case of the roof threatening to crush them at any moment. No matter how he distracted himself, Chance couldn’t stop thinking that they might never get out of here.

Kit was thinking it too. It was evident in the way his shoulders never fully relaxed and his eyes kept drifting over to the windows, full of longing and remorse.

Chance wasn’t frustrated with Kit—not really—but he was at the same time. There was clearly something between them. Something that had only deepened in the face of all the other, bigger things they should be focused on. This thing between them was happening at the worst possible moment, but it was still happening, outside of their control, like rocks sliding down a hill. There was only so long they could fight the gravity that was dragging them together.

Yet Kit insisted on trying. Chance had wanted to cry when Kit had pulled away from him before. They could be taking comfort in each other. Chance could be using these final moments to tell Kit how he felt. But instead, they were sitting in silence.

Most of all, Chance was frustrated with himself. For not making a move sooner, for needing a natural disaster to bring them together while it also tore them apart, and for drinking too damn much. If his head were clear, he’d sit Kit down and have this out right now. But the room was spinning, and as soon as he lay down, he was convinced he couldn’t get back up again.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. If they made it to tomorrow, he would talk to Kit. He had to be honest. Even if Kit pushed him away again. Even if he died with a broken heart. It’d be worth it, to have no regrets.

As Chance watched, Kit sat on the edge of the sofa. They’d taken one of the back cushions and placed it on an armrest to act as a pillow. It was stiff and uncomfortable, but it was better than the floor by far.

Chance’s feet reached all the way to the armrest, which meant Kit was going to have to curl up in order to fit. It didn’t matter how they positioned themselves. They were going to sleep very, very close to each other. Chance’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding no matter how hard he willed it to stop.

“I put my phone on the desk,” Kit said without looking at him. “If you need to get up in the middle of the night, feel free to find it and use it.”

“Thank you.”

They fell quiet again, the tension punctuated by the screech of sirens. Were those fire trucks in the distance? The police? Were they coming to rescue them? There was no way to tell.

“Good night,” Kit said. He hesitated for one moment longer before he finally lay down. Chance had been waiting to see how he’d do it: feet by Chance’s head, or maybe facing away from him? But Kit faced Chance, his head on the same pillow. Their hands and legs ended up tangled between their bodies. Chance was grateful it was dark, or he didn’t think he’d be able to bear the intimacy of having their faces so close.

Chance whispered, “Good night.”

He closed his eyes, even though he knew sleep would be a long time coming. He tried to think about anything besides Kit. His family sprang into his mind. When he thought about how worried they must be, his heart throbbed.

If he got any rest tonight, it’d be a miracle.

“Chance?” Kit’s face was so close, his breath tickled Chance’s skin.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Chance opened his eyes. They’d begun to adjust; he could see the outline of Kit’s face. “For what?”

“For staying so calm. For making me laugh in spite of everything. For being here. I’m grateful for that all on its own.”

Chance adjusted his position. “Thank you too. I don’t think I could have kept it together if it weren’t for you. You’ve been so brave.”

There was a pause. Kit wasn’t saying something. Chance could feel it in the air between them. His heart sped up as he waited.

“Why did you hesitate?”

Chance frowned even though Kit couldn’t see him. “What?”

“When we were at the fire escape, you could have made it out. You could have gotten to safety. But you hesitated. I saw you. Why?”

Chance wasn’t certain he could answer that. He’d come up with a hundred different excuses. He’d been frightened. He hadn’t known if Kit could hold the passage open. He hadn’t wanted to risk getting crushed.

None of those reasons rang true. The fact was, he’d looked at Kit’s face, and some part of him, for a fraction of a second, had lost the motivation to get out. But he couldn’t believe he’d gotten himself trapped here for a man he’d barely known at the time. Could he?

As the silence stretched on, awaiting an answer, words weighed on the tip of Chance’s tongue. I couldn’t leave you here all alone.

Even if it were true, he couldn’t tell Kit that. Kit already blamed himself for not getting Chance out. The guilt would destroy him.

Instead, Chance proffered a facsimile of the truth. “I don’t know.”

There was another beat of quiet. Then Kit drew a slow breath. “I would never say I’m glad you’re here, but . . .”

“I know.” Chance closed his eyes again. “I know. I feel the same.”

To his surprise, sleep found him. As he drifted off, he thought something brushed against his face—something warm that ran along his cheek to his mouth—but it was gone so quickly, he forgot all about it.

7:32 a.m., Tuesday, August 14th

When Chance woke up, he was cramped and had a horrible kink in his neck. Wind howled through the smashed windows, and yet it did nothing to dispel the sticky-hot air that filled his nose like cotton.

Cracking an eye open, Chance blinked at the brightness. He’d expected to be disoriented, to need a minute to remember where he was. But it all came flooding back to him the moment he opened his eyes, along with a foul taste in his mouth and aches in every part of him. There was a special one in his head that he couldn’t blame on the quake. That was all the Scotch’s doing.

The worst ache of all, however, was in his chest, and it was caused by the man sleeping next to him. Kit was a mess. Dirty. Coated in day-old sweat. His honey-brown hair was wild, and some serious stubble was darkening his square jaw.

He looked painfully sexy.

That’s so not fair.

Chance could have spent all morning watching him, but his pounding head demanded he find water, and his bladder had demands of its own.

He had no idea how he managed to extricate himself without waking Kit, but after a lot of bending and flinching at every sound, he made it to his feet. Kit rolled into the space he’d vacated and spread out like his unconscious self had been waiting for this moment.

Chance was cooler without Kit’s body pressed against his, but its absence made him feel vulnerable. It was like when he was a kid, and he’d honestly believed his blanket protected him from monsters. He’d grown accustomed to having Kit next to him—in more ways than one.

He allowed himself one final look at Kit before he exited the office and picked his way down what was left of the hallway. The wreckage seemed all the more horrifying in the soft morning light. The cracks in the walls were deeper, darker. The incongruous peacefulness stoked the embers of panic within him.

After a stop-off at the toppled vending machines for water and crackers, he made it to the lobby bathroom. The burst pipe he’d ignored the day before had done a wonderful job of flooding the place, and the sewage smell was ripe in the air. It matched the sourness on his tongue.

Alcohol is bad.

He took care of all his bodily needs, including rinsing out his mouth so thoroughly it was almost a substitute for toothpaste. By the time he walked back into the lobby, he felt more human, and his headache had mostly subsided. The victory was short-lived, however. The sound of screaming reached him. Someone was shouting his name.

Kit.

Chance booked it back to the office and ran into Kit in the hallway. Literally. Chance plowed into his shoulder and was sent stumbling back. He would have gone crashing into the nearest pile of rubble had Kit not reached out to steady him.

“Chance.” He grabbed Chance’s shoulders in a too-tight grip. “Christ, are you okay? When I woke up, and you were gone, I—” He made a strangled sound.

“It’s okay, Kit. Take a breath.” Chance used his most soothing voice. Kit was breathing hard; it didn’t make sense. Chance had only left him for a minute. “I’m right here. I went to get some water and use the bathroom. You didn’t think I’d disappeared on you, did you?”

“No, that’s the thing. I knew you weren’t gone. I knew that. When I woke up, and you weren’t beside me, I figured you’d gone to get something. But no matter how many times my head shouted that at me, I still panicked, and—” He made the sound again, only this time it was more like a growl. “All I could think was that if something happened to you, I’d lose it.”

“Nothing happened to me. I’m fine. We’re both fine. We made it to morning, and—”

Before Chance could react, Kit grabbed his face and kissed him.

Hard.

Chance was too surprised to do more than stand there and let him. Kit tasted smoky, like the Scotch they’d drunk. One of the hands on Chance’s shoulders found its way to his face and cradled it, as if Chance were something precious.

The touch stirred some memory in Chance—something he couldn’t quite grasp—and it spurred him into action. He kissed Kit back, and a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying lifted off him. Kissing Kit was everything. It was hope and peace and the sort of pain he wanted to feel, because it meant healing was on the way.

“Kit,” he mumbled, for the sheer pleasure of hearing it. “Kit.”

Kit didn’t respond. Not with words. He wrapped his large arms around Chance and pulled Chance tightly to him. The kiss went from shaky to desperate in a flash. Kit held on to Chance so hard, it was like he was trying to bind them together.

It was all Chance could do to give back. There was so much emotion behind it, so much raw need, he could scarcely breathe. In his head, one word echoed in the otherwise sweet silence: finally.

And then it was over.

Kit fell back a step and blinked, like he was coming out of a dream. “Chance.”

It wasn’t a question, but Chance answered anyway. “Yeah.” He was panting. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the kiss, the heat, or the stunned look in Kit’s eyes.

“I . . .” Kit touched his mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t have done that. Not without talking to you first.”

Chance searched Kit’s face, debating with himself. He hadn’t planned to have this conversation the moment they woke up, but he also hadn’t planned on Kit kissing him. And he hadn’t known if they would wake up. It was now or never.

“It’s all right. Really, I don’t mind. I . . . I wish you hadn’t stopped.”

Kit stared at him for a long moment before dropping his gaze. “I need a minute, okay? I’m gonna go clean up. You should eat something. Drink some water, if you haven’t already.” And with that, he sidestepped Chance and strode off down the hall.

Chance stared after him, more frustrated than ever. When Kit said he needed a minute, did he mean they’d talk when he got back? Chance was tempted to run after him and demand an explanation, but in light of everything that’d happened, he didn’t think pushing Kit was the right move. They were both volatile right now, no matter how hard they tried to act calm.

Hopefully, they had an extra minute to spare. He trudged back into the office.

Emptying his pockets of the provisions he’d grabbed, he turned on the TV and scanned the news while he ate. It was much the same as yesterday: constant coverage of the earthquake and drone shots of the devastated city center.

The news anchor shared statistics and predictions: scientists had expected at least one aftershock in the night, but it hadn’t happened. That could be a good sign, but no one the anchor interviewed seemed optimistic. The rest of what was reported, Chance already knew: there were too many people in need of help and too few resources.

He hoped Marci and her girls had made it to safety. He hoped Sam and Pat and Lisa and that one woman whose name he hadn’t bothered to learn were all right. He hoped Kit’s cat was safe, that everyone’s pets and loved ones were safe. Most of all, he hoped all his hoping did some good, instead of just making him feel worse.

“Has anything changed?” Kit appeared in the doorway and walked around the desk to see the screen.

Despite everything, Chance warmed at the sight of him. “Nothing much. It’s still hell out there, and we’re still trapped in here.”

“Sounds about right.”

Chance waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, Chance took the initiative. “Kit, we need to talk about— Holy shit.”

Kit jerked his head toward him. “What? What is it?”

“Look! Look at the TV!” Chance jabbed a finger at the screen. “That’s our street! That’s our building!”

The camera panned over an eagle-eyed view of a stretch of city center. Chance recognized it instantly. He drove those roads every day on his way to work. They were largely obliterated, but a few had been cleared, and on them were fire trucks, ambulances, and construction vehicles. A voice-over explained that teams of officials and volunteers were checking the buildings for survivors.

“Holy shit,” Kit echoed. He looked back and forth between the TV and Chance, eyes growing wider with each pass. “Rescuers are coming. They could find us today.”

Chance was so overcome with relief, he got up and threw his arms around Kit. “I’d say I always knew they’d find us, but that would be a lie.”

Kit wrapped him up in his arms and rested his forehead against Chance’s. “I know. I wanted to believe it, but after everything . . .”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m not going to celebrate until—”

The ground rolled beneath them.

The walls cracked. The ceiling crumbled and rained down around them like confetti. The hope Chance had felt not moments before was ripped from his chest. It dug its claws in as it left, shredding his insides.

Not again. Ice water flooded into Chance’s veins. Please, not again.

The shaking brought them to their knees. They grasped onto each other as the building collapsed around them. There was too much dust in the air for Chance to open his eyes, but he heard something shatter next to him. Then something splintered. Out in the hall, it sounded like a bus had plowed its way through the building.

Chance didn’t need to look to know what had happened. It sounded just like before, back on the eleventh floor. The hallway outside had collapsed.

As if that weren’t bad enough, the whole building shuddered and then swayed, as if a breeze could knock it down.

It was over as quickly as the others, and yet this one was so much worse for the emotions it brought with it. Despair, and skin-prickling familiarity. Chance shuddered to think that he was getting used to this.

For a long moment after, they didn’t look up, didn’t let go of each other. They knelt, covered in plaster and dry wall, and breathed together.

Eventually, Kit’s vise-like grip started to hurt, and Chance squirmed. He kept his eyes shut as he eased back and shook himself off. When he looked around, all he saw were nightmares and worst-case scenarios.

The TV had fallen off the desk and cracked, removing their last window out into the world. The bottle of Scotch they’d shared was now shattered on the ground, soaking into the dust. The hallway outside had collapsed, exactly as Chance had suspected. They were more trapped now than ever.

Chance’s heart rate refused to return to normal even now that the ground had stopped shaking. He couldn’t bring himself to appreciate the fact that they were still alive. They wouldn’t be for very much longer.

“The building won’t survive another aftershock.”

Chance didn’t realize he was speaking until he heard his voice echo down the remnants of the hall. He swallowed, his throat dry once again from the particles in the air. “I heard on the news that they’d expected one last night. Guess it waited until morning.”

Kit raised his head, and bits of ceiling fell out of his hair. “Did they say if there would be more?”

“There was no if. There was only when.”

Kit let out a breath. “I guess we need to face facts. If we’re still trapped in this building when the next aftershock hits, it’s over. It doesn’t matter how close the rescue teams are to finding us. They’ll find a collapsed building, and if we’re lucky, our bodies. This could be our last day on earth.”

His words should have sent Chance into a panic. They should have made Chance collapse onto the ground and cry like an infant. But instead, they filled him with a sort of fever.

Chance could feel every sinew in his body. His heart beat so hard in his chest, he was certain it was going to break free. He looked Kit dead in the eye. “How do you want to spend it?”

Something between them broke—shattered—and suddenly, they were kissing again. Kit wrapped a large hand around the back of Chance’s head and held him in place as he pressed their mouths together. Chance took a handful of Kit’s wrinkled shirt and gave back with everything he had. Lips—chapped and rough—moved together frantically, and flashes of tongue and teeth made them both gasp.

When Chance moved to slide his arms around Kit and deepen the kiss, Kit did the worst thing imaginable. He pulled away.

“Hold on.” He was gasping for breath. “Slow down. I can’t. Not like this.”

“What? Why?”

Instead of answering, Kit pushed away and got to his feet, brushing dust from his clothes as if that made them any less ruined.

Chance scrambled after him. “Kit, talk to me. I’m not going to spend my last hours being ignored.”

That got his attention. Kit whipped around, a wealth of emotion in his dark eyes: uncertainty, hesitance, and deep, deep longing. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m sorry. It’s just, if I keep kissing you, I won’t stop.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Chance struggled to make sense of Kit’s actions. “Are you pulling away because we might die? I understand, believe me, but this could be our last chance.”

“It’s not that.” He laughed humorlessly. “It should be that. Sex should be the last thing on my mind right now, but it’s not.” Kit paced the length of the office, hands on his head like he was contemplating pulling his own hair out. After several deep breaths, he turned around and stopped right in front of Chance. “There are some things I need to know.”

“Okay. Go ahead.”

Kit opened and closed his mouth.

Chance’s patience ran out. “Whatever you’re not saying, will you please say it already? If the earthquake doesn’t kill me, frustration might. There’s something between us, Kit. You can’t tell me there isn’t.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Then what’s the problem? We’re here. Right now. This is our last shot. Why won’t you be with me?”

As soon as the words left Chance’s mouth, he was terrified of the answer. If Kit said it was because he didn’t feel as strongly as Chance did, it would break him. Or if Kit admitted he was only acting out of fear and desperation. Chance wouldn’t need another aftershock to send him reeling. He held his breath and did his best to brace himself.

Luckily or unluckily, Kit’s answer wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

“Because I’m the reason you’re stuck here!” Kit’s face contorted with guilt and anger. “You’ve been too kind to say it, but I know it’s true. You didn’t get out when you had the chance because of me. I should have made you climb out that exit. But I didn’t, and now you’re trapped here. It kills me, because if I’d been honest about who I was from day one, we could have been together. We could have had time.”

Chance started to interrupt, but Kit was on a roll now. Words poured from him in a torrential flood.

“I’ve been trying to be the brave man you think I am, but the fact is, I’m terrified. Not only for me, but for you too. I’m worried we won’t get out of here, but I’m also worried that if we do, I’ll go back to being exactly who I was before: the suit who can’t even tell the people he works with that he’s gay. I admire you and your honesty too much to make you put up with that.”

Chance almost took a step back. “Kit . . . you . . .”

Kit interrupted him. “I have feelings for you, Chance. Real feelings. Feelings that started long before we got stuck here. I’ve liked you since the day I met you, and my feelings have grown every day since. I never acted on them. I was a coward, and I needed you to know that before this went any further. Now you can decide if I’m really who you want to spend your last day with.”

Speechless, Chance stared openly at Kit. It wasn’t that Kit’s confession was overly surprising, but the passion with which he said it made Chance dizzy.

Kit was breathing hard. He seemed taller than before, like his speech had lifted some burden off his shoulders, and he was now free to stand up straight. He swallowed and stared down at his feet. “Please say something.”

Chance was stunned. More stunned than he’d been when the earthquake first hit. More stunned than he’d been during any part of the aftermath.

“You . . .” He had to take a breath before he could complete the sentence. Thoughts flitted through his head so fast they left him reeling. “Kit, is that why you’ve been holding back this whole time?”

“More or less.” Kit shrugged, looking miserable. “I also needed to figure some things out on my own, and I wasn’t sure what you were feeling. Plus, you know, imminent death.”

Chance wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. “If it’s any consolation, I was convinced you didn’t have real feelings for me. I thought it was the earthquake driving us together. Making you do things you wouldn’t do otherwise. I thought you only kissed me because you’re scared of dying.”

“What?” Kit’s head jerked right back up. “You think this whole thing—all of the emotions between us—is some kind of adrenaline high?”

“Not entirely.” Chance swallowed hard. “I think there’s always been something between us. But I was kinda waiting on you to make a move, and when you didn’t, I figured there had to be a reason. Then when you opened up last night, I thought it was alcohol and desperation. People act differently when they’re stressed.”

“Chance, I don’t know what to say. That’s not what was going on at all.” Kit searched his face, looking as shocked as Chance felt. “I told you how I feel. Are you saying you feel the same?”

Chance’s head swam with all the things he wanted to say at once.

Finally, he settled on something. “Kit Gibbons, the past twenty-four hours have been some of the worst in my life. I’ve feared for my safety, I’ve feared for others, and I’ve lain awake at night wondering if my loved ones are dead. If they think I’m dead. And the only thing that’s made this bearable is you.”

He paused, anticipating an interruption, but Kit was silent. He hurried to finish what he needed to say before Kit rallied. “You’re not the coward here: I am. I’ve let uncertainty and insecurity stand in the way for far too long. I want you, Kit. Because you’re you. Going through this with you has made it obvious to me that if this is my last day, there’s no one I’d rather spend it with.”

Kit’s face was caught somewhere between delight and suspicion. “You mean it?”

“I’ve thought about asking you out a hundred times, and if I die today, the only thing I’ll regret is that I never did.” Chance hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping closer. “You really had feelings for me before all of this happened?”

“Of course I did. Since before we talked at that party, even. From the first time you ever said hi to me in the hall. You did for me too?”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t know if you’ve seen you, but Jesus, Kit. You’re gorgeous. And sweet. And funny. And brave, no matter how much you say you’re not. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” Chance shook his head. “I can’t believe I waited so long to tell you. So many opportunities wasted.”

Kit blew out a breath that had a hint of a laugh in it. “I used to think about asking you out all the time. I didn’t because I was afraid of what people might think. How pathetic is that?”

“It’s not pathetic. But it was a mistake, on both our parts.” He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “We’re lucky enough to have a chance to correct it.”

“Yes.” Kit stepped even closer. “What do you want me to do, Chance?”

They were inches apart, both breathing hard. The air between them was charged with emotion and need.

Chance reached up and touched Kit’s face. “Kiss me.”

And Kit did.

It was nothing like when they’d kissed before. When Kit had woken up without him, his kiss had been powered by relief. When they’d kissed after the aftershock, it’d been because of fear. But this? This was pure passion. It stole the breath from Chance’s lungs. He never wanted it to stop.

Kit crowded close to him, backing him up until he bumped against the desk. Chance couldn’t stop touching him: his face, his hair, his body. He slid fingers down Kit’s chest and grabbed hold of his waist. Kit wrapped him up in a tight embrace, like he never intended to let him go. Kit nudged Chance back until he was sitting on the desk. Then Kit stepped between his legs, closing the last of the distance between them.

It was a wonderful sort of agony, feeling like they had all the time in the world to kiss, but knowing that they didn’t. God only knew how much time they had left. They had to make the most of it.

Kit seemed intent on doing precisely that. His hands were everywhere: in Chance’s hair, stroking his sides, pushing his shirt up to get at his bare skin. Before Chance could react, Kit pressed against his torso with his body, prompting him to lie back. Chance did, and Kit followed him down until they were half lying, chest to chest. He never stopped kissing him for even a second. His hands found their way to Chance’s hips and gripped him tight.

Suddenly, Chance was hot from more than the humid air. As Kit’s warmth seeped into him, it was all Chance could do to keep from melting.

He broke the kiss only to skim his lips down Kit’s neck. “Do you remember what you told me last night?”

Kit shuddered and angled his head to give Chance more room. “Which part? I told you things last night I’ve never shared with anyone.”

“I mean about what turns you on. How you like to have sex.”

At the word, Kit made a rough noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah?”

Chance mouthed his stubbly jawline before pulling back to look him in the eye. “Show me.”

Kit wet his lips. “That’s what you want?”

“You are what I want, and I want you exactly how you said.” Chance rubbed their groins shamelessly together, hot and needy. “Pin me down. Cover my body with yours. Fuck me.”

Kit made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl and flexed his fingers on Chance’s hips. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you. I’d give you anything, Chance.”

Chance didn’t hesitate. “I want you. Just you. Until the end.”

Kit moaned, soft and low—Chance felt it in his bones—and nodded. “You have me.”