Ethan jerked his hands up and shoved the phone flat between his right thigh and the plastic center console.

“It’s just a quick email,” he said, the words tumbling out in a fast, trailing rush.

“I’m sending a note to my work team about tomorrow’s schedule.”

“At midnight?” I said, staring at the back of his neck.

“Alan checks his inbox all night,” Ethan said, staring straight ahead through the water streaks on the windshield.

“I had to give them a heads-up in case we get stuck in the waiting room.”

“You’re driving our sick child to the hospital,” I said, watching his shoulders stay hunched forward.