Dean lets his fingers dance over her back, grinning at her.


Like idiots. It's idiotic to love this hard.

Yes. Love.

He's been using that word - inside his own head and nowhere else - for weeks now. Months. He forgets how long. Time has no meaning unless you separate it into Before Jo and After Jo.

It's dumb. It's stupid.

But there it is.


"Really, now. That's uncharacteristically altruistic of you, Miss Harvelle."