CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
The cool, predawn air nips at my skin as I tiptoe across the creaky wooden floor of Dean's cabin, each board threatening to betray my silent escape. I cradle my shoes in one hand, the other pressed against my pounding heart, a futile attempt to quiet its guilty thumping. The warmth of the blankets I've just shed contrasts sharply with the chill that has nothing to do with the temperature; it's the ice of betrayal, freezing me from within.
I sneak a glance at Dean, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep, the moonlight casting a serene glow on his unsuspecting face. He's oblivious to the storm he's ignited within me, to the tempest of guilt for having surrendered to a moment of reckless passion when my heart – or at least part of it – already belongs to
