After breakfast, Marc gathered his belongings and called a cab. Now that the turnpike was open again, it was too dangerous to walk across it to retrieve his car. Trevor went with him to the hotel registration desk so he could take over Marc’s room for another day, and a nagging sense of apprehension snaked back into Marc’s bones. He needed to get going so he could work on his new case, but some part of him was digging its heels in, not wanting to end this . . . thing. He stomped it down. With biker boots on his mental feet.

“I’m sorry,” the front desk clerk said as she handed back Marc’s credit card. “There’s a waitlist for rooms, with so many people stuck, and your room was already rebooked.”

“Oh,” Marc said, not sure what to say, or that there was anything to say, and turned to Trevor. “I’m sor—”

“That’s fine,” Trevor said, raising a hand. He smiled through clear disappointment in his eyes, fatigue lines bracketing the corners of his mouth. “Those chairs by the lobby fireplace look comfortable enough to sleep on.”

Marc worried his lip. Why did this feel so wrong? Leaving Trevor here alone, right before Christmas, to sleep in a chair? And why wasn’t he just saying, Thanks for a great night and going on about his life, like he should be? Leaving a hookup shouldn’t be that difficult. It should be simple. Except it wasn’t.

They’d done more than spend a few hours finding release in each other. They’d talked for half the night, and he’d discovered he genuinely liked the man currently standing in front of him on a sunny but frigid Colorado morning. Trevor had somehow managed to touch Marc in a way no one had in all his life. But . . . hell. How to tell a man he’d only meant to pass a night with that he didn’t want to part ways so soon?

He ran his hands through his hair as Trevor watched him with an intensity that sent a shiver through this body.

They broke the nervous silence at the same time.

“Well—”

“Look, I—”

They laughed. He knew his sounded a touch shaky, but Trevor’s sounded melancholy. Did he want what Marc did, too? Trevor looked toward the hotel doors, where a steady stream of taxis was shuttling people back to their cars or homes.

Marc squared his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his lips when Trevor turned his attention back to him, expression unreadable, and held out his hand.

“I enjoyed meeting you, Marc. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

So, he didn’t want what Marc did, then. He was eager to say good-bye and get on with his life. Because it was just a random one-night encounter, nothing more.

Marc stared at the extended hand for a second, reining in his useless fantasies, and met Trevor’s eyes, searching for but not finding that spark that promised something more. He forced a smile that felt bittersweet but tasted only sour, and nodded, accepting Trevor’s gesture.

“One I won’t forget anytime soon,” he said. He held on a moment longer and then let his hand slip slowly from Trevor’s, fingertips caressing his palm as they broke contact, leaving tingling skin in the wake of a last touch. “Take care of yourself, Trevor. Merry Christmas.”

Trevor pursed his lips slightly, suddenly looking wary, as if Marc had somehow just said the wrong thing. But all Trevor said was, “And to you.”

The moment stretched on, standing almost frozen in time, until someone stepped into the edge of their private bubble and broke the spell.

“Your cab is here, sir,” the concierge said.

Marc turned to the man. “Thank you,” he said, then looked back at Trevor, smiled again, and with a sharp nod began walking toward the waiting cab. Every step felt heavier than the last, and he had to fight with himself not to turn around, walk back, say what he’d meant to say. But no, Trevor had made it clear. There was no more. He knew that too, but . . .

But there was.

Marc spun around with every intention of giving in to the urge and calling Trevor back, saying it was crazy but what the hell, let’s see if this can go somewhere. But the spot where Trevor had been on the other side of the glass doors was now empty.

“Where to, sir?”

Marc turned back to the waiting cab driver, who was patiently holding the rear passenger-side door open.

“My car’s on the turnpike,” Marc said, climbing into the vehicle. He took one more glance back at the hotel, buckled his seat belt, and sighed. The empty wasteland that had become his life stretched farther than ever before, now beyond the horizon and into endless abyss.

Trevor headed for the lounge, fighting the urge to turn around and ask Marc to . . . What? Tell him he’ll take that ride after all? But to where? He couldn’t get up the mountain today, and there was no point in going to the airport. Ask Marc to stay at the hotel with him when the man had a home he could get to? And what about tomorrow? He’d been too caught up in the disappointment of missing Christmas with his family that he’d never actually asked what Marc’s plans were, other than gathering he was spending it in town. From the sound of things, Marc didn’t have family to spend it with, but surely he had friends to share the day.

But if he didn’t . . . Wouldn’t it be better to spend the day with someone whose company he’d thoroughly been enjoying than alone in a hotel full of strangers?

Inside the lounge, his gaze was immediately drawn to the table where he’d first sat with Marc, where a spell had been cast that had made him wish for a different life. For more time.

A heavy weight settled in his chest as he turned around and made his way toward the plush leather chairs that horseshoed in front of a large rock fireplace in the main lobby. He dropped into a chair, his body feeling twice as burdensome as usual, exhausted, as though he’d just run a marathon. He watched the flames jump and dance. Peripherally he was aware of movement around him, of people coming and going, of time inching eternally forward, but he sat still, wishing for things that could never be.

Just as well Marc had gone on his way. Trevor knew already he’d only want more of the man, even though he wouldn’t fully be able to have him. He was already living on borrowed time, had been for a while. His damaged kidneys kept losing more and more function, and it wouldn’t be long now before they failed completely, dialysis or not, without a transplant. Soon he’d no longer even be eligible for one.

That would be the height of selfishness, wouldn’t it? No, he couldn’t do that to anyone, least of all not a man like Marc.

He took a deep breath and dragged his sketchbook out of his bag. Settling the book on his lap, he flipped to the page where he’d drawn Marc in the silent hours of night. It was still a chaos of rough outlines simply giving the impression of form, but to Trevor, it was unmistakably Marc. His fingers twitched to trace the lines and curves of graphite, as if that were some sort of lifeline connecting him with a man he could only dream about from this point on.

With a sigh, he closed the book, placed both hands flat on the cover, and closed his eyes. He had to stop this. There were more important things to think about, like how to broach the topic with his mom that his kidneys were on the verge of a nosedive. Serious complications loomed large and fatal on the horizon, and he was considering stopping dialysis instead of putting them all through needless pain. That was not going to be an easy or pleasant conversation, but it was one that couldn’t be avoided.

“Mind if I join you?”

The resonant voice had a smile in it, and Trevor would have recognized it anywhere. He snapped his eyes open, and there before him stood Mr. Marc Handsome. In the flesh.

A distant voice in Trevor’s mind expressed gratitude that he had closed his sketchbook. He stood up, dropping the pad to the seat of the chair without thought.

“What are you doing here?” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. A sense of joy and hope he couldn’t possibly suppress rose in his chest, and for a moment, he didn’t even want to try.

Marc shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down, his expression and movements uncertain, revealing chinks in his confidence. When he once again met Trevor’s gaze, the hope Trevor was feeling was reflected back at him in shades of warm green.

“I, uh . . . I was thinking . . .” Marc pulled his hands free and rolled his shoulders back, his voice more assured as he continued. “I was thinking it’s not right for you to spend your Christmas alone in a hotel lobby, sleeping in a damn chair, while I spend mine alone in the foothills, when we could spend it together. No one should be alone on Christmas, right?”

“I . . .”

. . . can’t. Shouldn’t. But yes, I want to.

“My house is big,” he added. “You’d have your choice of guest rooms, if you wish. Though”—a playful light danced in Marc’s eyes—“I have a very large master bedroom.”

He waited for a response, that playful light returning to the previous hopeful expression, but at Trevor’s hesitation, that began to fade. Trevor hated knowing that he was the cause of it, but he couldn’t go to Marc’s home. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend the holiday there, to simply be with him, it was that the more time he spent with him, the harder it would be to say good-bye. And good-bye was the only place this could go.

“I can’t . . .” he started, letting his voice trail off at the crestfallen look on Marc’s face. Trevor’s heart twisted at the image, giving the offer a second thought just to make that look go away. The man was right, after all. No one should spend Christmas alone, and he had nowhere to go. As long as they were on the same page, it would be okay. Right? Just a couple of guys making the most of the situation. Then when the airport reopened, he’d head home as planned, and this would have been a memorable interlude.

You’re fooling yourself, a voice whispered in the depths of his psyche, which he promptly ignored. He swallowed.

“I’m not looking for anything here,” he said, his voice firm as he locked eyes with Marc. “As long as we’re clear.”

Conflicting emotions bounced through Marc’s eyes, changing too quickly to get a read on any particular one, but his voice was eager when he said, “We’re clear. I definitely don’t have time for anything more right now, either.” Marc smiled, a grin so beautiful and sincere that it washed away every reason Trevor should have said no.

“Okay. Take me home, then.”