Ten minutes passed. Emmett’s cries became hiccups. Then whimpers.
Twenty minutes. The whimpers got quieter.
Jessica gasped. “Is he—”
“Sleeping,” Dale said softly. “Real sleep, not just exhaustion. First time in three days, you said?”
Jessica started crying. Not sad crying—relief crying. The kind of crying that comes when you’ve been at the absolute end of your rope and someone throws you a lifeline. Marcus put his arm around his wife, and he was crying too.
“How did you—” Marcus started.
“I’m dying,” Dale said simply, still making that low rumble, still holding Emmett in his protective cocoon. “Got maybe four months left. Lymphoma. When you’re dying, you get real clear about what matters. And right now, what matters is this little guy getting some peace. And his mama and daddy getting a break.”Continue reading…
