That’s when Nurse Patricia came in to check on Dale. She’d been looking for him since he pulled his IV out. When she saw him holding the sleeping toddler, she started to protest.
“Mr. Murphy, you have treatment to finish—”
“Hospital policy says you can’t just pull your IV—”
“Then write me up,” Dale said calmly. “But I ain’t moving until this little guy’s mama gets some rest too.”
He looked at Jessica. “Ma’am, when’s the last time you slept?”
“I… I don’t remember. Maybe Sunday night?”
“That’s four days,” Dale said. “You’re gonna make yourself sick. Lie down. Right there on that bed. I got your boy. He’s safe. Sleep.”
“I can’t just leave him with a stranger—”
“Ma’am, respectfully, you ain’t leaving him. You’re right here. I’m right here. He’s safe in my arms, and you need to close your eyes for more than five minutes.” Dale’s voice was gentle but firm. “Besides, I raised four kids, remember? If this little man needs something, I’ll wake you. But right now, he just needs to feel safe. And so do you.”
Jessica looked at her husband. Marcus nodded. “He’s right, Jess. Emmett’s calmer than he’s been in three days. And you’re about to collapse.”
Dale sat there holding Emmett, that low motorcycle rumble coming from his chest. The toddler’s small body was completely relaxed, his breathing deep and even. One tiny hand clutched Dale’s leather vest.Continue reading…
