ADVERTISEMENT
Six hours of Dale holding Emmett while Jessica slept and Marcus dozed in a chair. Six hours of chemotherapy dripping into a dying man’s arm while he gave everything he had left to a toddler who needed him.
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.
When Emmett finally woke up around hour six, he didn’t scream. He looked up at Dale with wide eyes and said one word: “More.”
“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?”
Continue READING…
Continue READING
ADVERTISEMENT
