Sunday, July 25. 10:29 a.m. Korokoro, a suburb of Lower Hutt, New Zealand.

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The sun had abandoned Wellington overnight and cloaked its dismay at the destruction below with thick gray clouds and the scent of rain. Ana stared at the trail that led upward past clumps of scrubby bush and twisted behind an outcropping of rock.

A rivulet of sweat trickled down her back. So much for the brief sponge bath earlier that morning. By the time she reached the top of the next hill she’d feel like she’d been on one of her evening runs with Theo.

Ana adjusted the backpack’s shoulder strap, trying to redistribute the weight that seemed so minimal when they left Mrs. Wilcox’s two hours ago. Now it weighed approximately the same as a pallet of bricks. Her calf muscles pinged as the path angled upward again, but she matched the tempo of her stride to Daniel’s a short distance ahead. He stopped at one of the chunks of rocks, shucked off his backpack, and plopped down, waiting.

Earlier, disaster workers in bright orange coveralls and hard hats had blocked the entrance to the motorway that led to Wellington city. Polite but insistent, the men informed them the road was impassable to both vehicles and pedestrians due to severe earthquake damage and the risk of further landslides.

Expecting as much, she and Daniel had veered off up into the hills. Using the map found in her glove compartment they planned a longer but hopefully unimpeded route that bypassed the heart of the city. She asked one of the men if there was any information on the damage to the southern suburbs where her home was.

He’d shaken his head and flicked pages over on his clipboard, distracted. “Sorry, lady. Reports are pretty intermittent. I can’t say.”

Short of breath when she reached him, Ana grabbed the water bottle Daniel held out.

“Ten-minute break.” She dropped the backpack to the dirt.

The lukewarm water was liquid ambrosia on her dry throat. Tiny droplets of fine rain speckled her bare arms, refreshingly cool. She sat a short distance from Daniel on the rock ledge and stared back the way they’d come, the clouds now a dirtier shade of gray. Strained silence stretched between them, the hiss of breeze-ruffled long grass the only sound.

“We’ve made good time,” he said.

Ana glanced at her watch. Not even ten.

“Very good time.” She smoothed damp curls off her forehead and slicked them back into a ponytail. “I think it’s going to rain.”

State the obvious, why don’t you? Could she sound any gawkier? Her conversational skills had been painful since her first sip of morning coffee while listening to the chorus of birds who greeted the dawn.

Ana angled her body away from him, scanning the vista below. They had reached the apex of the last hill before the land flattened out, claimed by new, ever-encroaching subdivisions. Left behind, Matiu/Somes Island squatted in the center of Wellington harbor’s cerulean blue waters. Ana had been glad when it disappeared from sight. Strong wind gusts that constantly whipped hair in her face must’ve also spurred on fires that blazed in the city. Black smoke scudded across the harbor, and though the scent was faint, the subtle stench of it hurt her soul.

This was her city razed by nature’s fury. Her city, full of vibrancy and character. Alive with cafés, museums, and the seat of government. Her city, where friends, colleagues, and neighbors worked hard and raised their families.

It was the people who pierced right to her heart. Walls could be mended, glass refitted, plans redrawn, and buildings replaced. The lifeblood of this city, its people, couldn’t.

“Ana?” said Daniel. Until he spoke, she’d been unaware of the water dripping off her face. The rain that had threatened since yesterday evening had finally come. Ana raised her fingertips, only to feel the spill of warm tears on her cheeks. Tightness constricted her diaphragm and her fingers fell trembling into her lap.

Daniel scooped her off the rough stone and cradled her in his powerful embrace. She shivered as heavy droplets of rain splattered on her arms, then stilled with the heat seeping through his shirt and the steady bump of his heartbeat. She let the tears come and he held her, somehow knowing she didn’t want to hear undeliverable promises or token platitudes.

The rained pattered on the rock beside them and the scent of some wild plants she couldn’t identify mingled with the smell she recognized as pure Daniel. She sniffed and pulled her head away from his chest. An old-fashioned checked handkerchief appeared under her nose.

“It’s clean,” he said.

Ana laughed, a blocked gurgled sound. “Thanks.”

His arms tightened fractionally around her back then loosened as she twisted away to blow her nose. How come they never showed movie stars honking away like a goose after a crying jag? Her hair hung in limp tendrils around her face and her eyes stung like they’d been repeatedly jabbed with a mascara wand.

She stuffed the damp cloth in the pocket of her jacket. “I’m sure you don’t want it back yet. I’ll launder it for you later.”

Ana turned to see Daniel watching her the way she imagined a hawk would study a small furry mammal. His arms were still wrapped around her. Curled in his lap, she was tucked tightly into the core of his body. Rain turned his hair a darker shade of brown and droplets of it dripped off his head, soaking into his shirt. Swallowing became impossible around the wedge of desire that clogged her throat. If she sighed, if she even exhaled sharply, he was close enough that her breath would stir the wet strands of hair on his forehead.

Ana wanted to bridge that distance. She wanted to trace the strong angles of his face. She wanted to taste his lips one more time. She wanted to see if yesterday was just adrenaline-fueled lust or something more.

Much more.

He had a beautiful mouth. Yesterday’s shadow had grown into short stubble, darkening the hollows under his cheekbones and encircling his lips. She wondered if they would feel soft or have the effect of fine sandpaper, chafing and reddening her skin. Muscles flexed in his thighs as she tilted toward him, and his body helpfully accommodated. His hand slid from her back and gently encircled her upper arm.

Seconds from begging Daniel to kiss her, one of her mother’s favorite adages sprung to mind. A moment on the lips means a lifetime on the hips. The memory of Lily saying those words to her as a teenager rang clear in her head. Her brain was too addled to think of a way to change the adage’s rhyming ‘lips and hips’ to something that meant ‘lifetime of regret for letting this attraction go any further.’

But if she gave in to the temptation of running her fingers through Daniel’s thick hair, using it as leverage to pull those full lips hard against her own; if she indulged her want in that one moment and greedily took…she’d pay for it later. Not on her hips, but her conscience, self-respect, and heart would suffer the consequences of allowing passion to overpower her better sense.

Ana slid off his lap so fast she nearly pulled him with her. He released his grip, and she stumbled a few steps away from him, trying to gather the wispy threads of her composure. He stood up, towering over her—all muscle and pulsating frustration—and snatched his backpack from the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Ana blurted.

Daniel didn’t look at her but shrugged on the backpack. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

She slanted a glance in his direction. His expression had reassembled itself to cool detachment. She momentarily wished he hadn’t let her disentangle herself so easily from his embrace.

“You ready?” He had already stepped back onto the path.

“Yeah. Let’s move out.”

He took the lead since the path was only wide enough for one at a time. She was glad her damp hair whipped around her cheeks as the wind picked up. She didn’t want him to see the confused yearning on her face as shafts of sunlight broke through the cloud cover in front of them.