“When I hold you in my arms and I feel my finger on your trigger I know no one can do me no harm because happiness is a warm gun.”

“He slides his hand over my cheek, one finger anchored behind my ear. Then he tilts his head down and kisses me, sending a warm ache through my body. I wrap my hands around his arm, holding him there as long as I can. When he touches me, the hollowed-out feeling in my chest and stomach is not as noticeable.”

“Do you truly feel that she is worth your wings?”He smiled. “What good are my wings, friend, when I can hold theworld in my arms?”

“I know that if I ever have the audacity to blame fate or God for holding a gun to my temple, I also have the wherewithal to remind myself that if I end up with a hole in my head, I was the one who pulled the trigger.”

“He crossed his arms again and requested, “You wanna stop aiming your weapon at me?”Actually, no. I didn’t. I wanted to keep aiming my gun at him and I might also want to pull the trigger.”

“…but Sassenach—I am the true home of your heart, and I know that.” He lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed my upturned palms, one and then the other, his breath warm and his beard-stubble soft on my fingers.“I have loved others, and I do love many, Sassenach—but you alone hold all my heart, whole in your hands,” he said softly. “And you know that.”