Michael's POV
The moment we stepped back inside, the cold hit me like a freight train. My clothes were drenched, water dripping onto the hardwood floor, but I knew Allyson had it worse. She'd been standing in that downpour much longer than me.
She stood frozen in the living room, completely soaked. Her clothes stuck to every curve of her body, and a puddle formed beneath her feet. Her arms were wrapped around herself in a desperate attempt to hold onto whatever warmth she had left. The way she shook was violent, uncontrolled.
This wasn't just about being cold. This was about everything that had happened between us.
I realized then that I'd crossed a line tonight.
Without hesitation, I cranked up the heat and rushed to my bedroom. I grabbed the first warm things I could find - an old hoodie, sweatpants, wool socks. Anything that might stop her from shaking like that.
When I returned to the living room, she was gone.
