You can’t force yourself to trust. So you put all your doubts in a little box and bury it deep and then try to forget where you buried it

Oh, Will Henry. After all we have been through, how could I send you away now, at our most critical hour? You are indispensable to me.

I start to unbutton his shirt. "Got to get these clothes off," I mutter. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that." Smile. Lopsided. Sexy.

And red is not the color of apples or roses or the dresses that pretty girls wear in the summertime. That is not the color of red at all.

God doesn't call the equipped, son. God equips the called. And you have been called.

A word of advice, Will Henry. When a person of the female gender says she wants to show you something, run the other way. The odds are it is not something you wish to see.

He asks me what happened to my leg. I told him I was shot by a shark. He doesn't react. Doesn't seem confused or amused or anything. Like getting shot by a shark is a perfectly natural thing in the aftermath of the arrival.