This biker walked into the ER carrying his 7-year-old daughter while her skin was still smoking.
Half her body was covered in third-degree burns. She had stopped crying twenty minutes ago.
That scared me more than the screaming did.
Mia pulled a pot of boiling oil off the stove when my back was turned for ten seconds. Ten seconds was all it took.
I ran every red light between our house and that hospital. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely keep them on the wheel.
The triage nurse took one look at us and ran for the doctor. Then the doctor took one look at me.
Leather vest. Beard. The patches on my back.
He glanced at his clipboard. Then he said six words I’ll hear for the rest of my life.
