“Cora.” I pause at the sound of his voice, spinning around to face him from across the room. “Yes?” Dean pulls his lips between his teeth, mulling over whatever he’s going to say. I watch his throat bob as he swallows, his grown-out hair sticking to his forehead. “I know I said you can go back to hating me when we get out of here,” he says in an angst-ridden voice. “But I really hope you don’t.” A solemn silence hangs between us, thick and palpable. I blink. Then I smile and reply, “But it’s fun.”
