Dean knew the need that was so clear on her face, in her eyes. The want to bolt. The feeling of bugs on your skin because you were in one place for too damn long. But this much was clear, she wanted to run away from him.
So when she removed his hands from her shoulders he just let them fall to his sides. Even as relief flooded him to the point that he almost sagged to the floor. He doubled over, instead, putting his hands on his knees. He had to force himself to breathe deep.
Voice hoarse, and cracked even with the two simple questioned words. "It's mine?" He was sure that it was, but he didn't want to make it a statement, and have that statement come slap him in the face.