The Next Morning
At ten sharp, Jessica appeared with Emmett. The boy spotted Dale and lit up.
“Dale!” he squealed, arms lifted.
“If you’re okay with it,” Dale said to Jessica.
“Please,” she said. “He woke up asking for you.”
Dale scooted, patted the mattress, and Emmett climbed in, tucking himself into the biker’s side. The rumble filled the little room. Emmett released a long, contented sigh.
“His oxygen levels are better,” Jessica said. “We might go home in two days. But whenever staff comes in, he panics—except with you.”
“Different kind of scary,” Dale said. “I look rough. His brain expects me to be scary and then finds out I’m safe. No surprise. Folks in scrubs look gentle and then they have to do hard things. That’s a mixed signal. With me, what you see is what you get.”
