The smell of bleach and floor wax felt thick in my throat.

Marcus’s voice was still echoing in my head.

*She’s been tracking Megan’s phone.*

When I walked back into the delivery room, Megan was crying.

She was propped up on the pillows, her face pale and covered in a thin sheet of sweat.

Her fingers were white where she gripped the metal rails of the bed.

“Jake,” she gasped, her eyes wide with panic. “Where were you?”

“I’m here,” I said, rushing to her side and grabbing her hand.

Her skin was hot and slick.

I looked at the plastic bedside table where her purse was sitting.

I reached over with my free hand, unzipped the bag, and pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” she whispered between shallow breaths.

“Just turning it off,” I said, holding down the power button until the screen went dark. “The doctor said no distractions.”

I didn’t want to tell her the truth.

I didn’t want her to know my mother was on her way here, tracking her signal.

I shoved Megan’s phone into my pocket next to mine.