Page 28 of Worth the Risk

“Dispatch, this is Spiderman in Mercy 445.”

“Mercy 445 this is dispatch, go ahead.”

“Change of plans. We’re headed to Melville.”

“Mercy 445, Sunnyville General is waiting for you.”

“No go. She needs a trauma unit.”

“Understood, but General is closer.”

“By ten minutes. Ten minutes where they’ll decide she should have gone to Melville because they don’t have the equipment to handle her injuries.”

“Mercy 445, dispatch is in disagreement.”

The radio crackles. The squelch squawks.

“Malone, this is Cochran. Your route is for Sunnyville General. Do not deviate from the plan. I need that bird and my crew on the ground ASAP. That is a direct order.”

I glance over to Charles, but he keeps his eyes straight ahead without saying a word. The muscle in his jaw pulses. I check the transponder and see the blip representing the small aircraft is no longer there, giving us a clear shot to Sunnyville.

I clear my throat. “Dispatch, there is a small aircraft in the flight pattern. It’s preventing us from having a swift delivery to General. We’re rerouting to Melville Trauma. Please inform them of our impending arrival.”

“Goddammit, Malone! Land that chopper.”

In my periphery, I see Charles do a double take my way, but I give him the same response he gave me. The less I acknowledge or involve him the better.

She needs the trauma unit.

That’s her only chance.

“Daddy.” Charles is tapping my shoulder.

“That’s an order, Malone!” It’s Cochran barking at me again.

“Daddy.” Another tap I choose to ignore. “Daddy.”

I startle awake.

The moon lightens the room—clear sky, not rain, and I’m in my bed, not in the cockpit.

“Luke? You okay, buddy?”

I scrub a hand over my face and try to clear the dream from my mind as he rubs his eyes and nods.

“I had a bad dream.” His voice is soft, almost embarrassed that he’s in here when he’s a whole eight years old.

I pull back the covers and pat beside me. “C’mon in. I was having one, too. Thank you for waking me up from it.” Too bad I can’t wake up from the reality of its aftereffects.

It takes him a second to climb onto the mattress beside me. He takes his time setting himself up in his favorite sleeping position—head atop of my bicep so my arm can curl around him with my hand on his belly and both of his feet propped up on my thigh.

“You good?” I murmur and press a kiss to the top of his head. Somehow, he can push away everything that bugs me, just like that. “Wanna tell me about your dream?”

He gives a soft shake of his head. “Too scary.” His voice is drugged with sleep.

“Okay, then think of the one thing that would make you the happiest in the world and focus on that.”

“If all the superheroes in the world could bring me a new mommy . . .”