“Mine, Chessie." [...] "Aye? Fuckin--mine. Not his.”
“But it’s mine,” he whispered against my cheek and then his mouth moved to my ear. “All, fuckin’, mine.”
“Love you, Chessie,” he murmured. “Ain’t never … Fuckin love you, more’n anything.”
“It...is for me?" "Aye. So what say you, lover mine.”
“Shit. You so fuckin pretty, Chessie. True thing. So … ain’t even can breathe sometimes.”
“She doesn’t belong to one of my boys, she’s fuckin’ mine.”