Around hour four, Emmett stirred slightly. His eyes opened, and for a moment, he looked confused. Then he saw Dale’s face and didn’t panic. Instead, he just snuggled deeper into the biker’s chest and went back to sleep.
“That’s right, little man,” Dale whispered. “You’re safe. Dale’s got you.”
“More what, buddy?” Dale asked softly.
Emmett patted Dale’s chest, where the rumbling sound came from. “More.”
Dale laughed—a real laugh—and started the motorcycle rumble again. Emmett smiled. It was small, but it was there. The first smile his parents had seen in four days.
Jessica woke up at the sound of Dale’s voice. For a moment, she looked confused. Then she remembered. Her son wasn’t screaming. She’d slept for—she checked her phone—three and a half hours. Solid, uninterrupted sleep.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “You held him the whole time?”
“Wasn’t any trouble,” Dale said, but his voice was weaker now. Six hours in a chair while getting chemo had taken its toll. “Kid just needed to feel safe.”Continue reading…
