The silence in the pediatric unit returned, broken only by the steady hum of Rowan’s phototherapy lights.

Finally, the screen went dark.

A second later, a small blue icon appeared at the top of the glass.

He had left a voicemail.

My fingers shook as I tapped the play button and held the device to my ear, tilting it so Sarah could hear.

Landon’s voice sounded loud and breezy, competing with the rush of wind in the background.

“Hey, just checking in,” he said.

He sounded completely relaxed, almost cheerful.

“We just passed the state line, traffic is great.”

“Mom wanted me to make sure you didn’t leave the back patio light on.”

“Oh, and Courtney is going to stop by the house later tonight to drop off some groceries and check on you.”

“Don’t make a mess of the kitchen while we’re gone.”

“See you in a week.”

The line clicked and went dead.

I lowered the phone to my lap.

“He didn’t even ask about Rowan,” I whispered.

“Not a single question about his own son.”

Sarah’s face hardened into a mask of quiet anger.