The Boy and the Brothers
Today, Emmett is five. The world can still be loud and confusing, but he’s thriving in speech and occupational therapy. His room has photos of bikers. His favorite vest is a tiny leather one the club made with a patch that reads “Dale’s Little Brother.” Every night, Jessica or Marcus holds him and makes the sound. Emmett makes it back—call and response, learned from a man who refused to let him face fear alone.
The Iron Wolves visit several times a year. They bring cupcakes on Dale’s birthday and sit cross-legged on the floor telling stories: Dale’s laugh, his loyalty, his habit of showing up when it counted.
“Your buddy Dale,” Snake tells him, “was the best of us. And you brought out the best in him. You gave him a reason in those last days. That’s a gift.”
