Almost every night, Charlie waited for Colby fall asleep. When his breathing was slow and even, when he did that arm twitch that indicated he was completely out, Charlie pulled forward, out of the protective circle of Colby's arms, reached up to the bedside table and put his hand on the cold handle of Colby's gun.
He'd get a chill all through his body and a hot flush pounding in his ears.
He never went so far as to lift or aim it, just pressed his fingers against the metal for a moment, gasped, then settled back down and slept.