His words do something to my heart. They wrap around the bleeding organ, squeezing the life out of it. “I can’t have what I want,” I say, my voice weak and frayed.

Dean lets out a breath, dipping his chin. “This isn’t healthy, Corabelle. We can’t thrive like this. We can’t heal like this. You told me in your car that night at The Oar that I was holding you underwater, that you couldn’t breathe, and I made myself believe it wasn’t true—I wanted to believe that we needed each other. That we had to cling and fight and claw our way out of this together.” He shakes his head with surrender in his eyes. “But you were right. We’re drowning here… and I’m gonna fuckin’ lose you if we don’t come up for air.”

My emotions start to soar like waves crashing down, drenching me in bitter truths. “I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t know how to keep you.” My tears fall fast, landing on my lips, tasting like the salty sea. “I’m just sinking.”

“That’s why we have to stop, Cora.” Dean tightens his grip on my shoulders and the pain is evident in his eyes. “I need you healthy. I need you put back together, smiling and alive and glowing. I think you’re still living in that basement, and as long as you’re tied to me, you’re tied to it. You need to get the hell out of there. You need to be free.”

I’m shaking my head, my face a mask of heartache. “I can’t let go of you.”

“Then let me let go of you.”

“No. Dean… please.” I reach for his shirt, clutching the fabric in my fists. Holding on for dear life. “You said we could start over. Maybe we just need a few days to think and regroup, and then…”

“It’s too late.” He kisses my forehead, inhaling deep. “It’s too late to start over.”

I lift my chin, finding his lips and pressing a kiss to his mouth. “But I…” I trail off. I drift away, choking on the words.

Dean frames my face with his hands, kissing me again, light and tender. “You what?” He pulls away to search my eyes, smoothing back my hair.

“I love you.”

I think both of our hearts skip a beat—the same beat. And I feel like that must mean something.

Dean’s eyes slowly close, as if he’s absorbing those words, replaying them over and over in his mind. Carving them into the deepest layer of his soul. “Shit,” he mutters quietly. “You’re making this so damn hard.”

I inch up on my tiptoes to capture another kiss, only this one is brimming and burning with everything that’s in my heart. Passion, possessiveness, love, desire, need. I can taste his hesitation as he goes to battle with himself. Right and wrong. Yes and no. Stay or walk.

Dean envelopes me in a fierce hold, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me to him, our mouths feasting and yearning. His tongue kisses mine, and for a moment, we are lost. We’re okay. We’re still swimming.