The heat was a living thing. It pressed down on the Texas asphalt, shimmered in waves, turned the silver sedan into an oven.
Ethan saw the baby through the window. Flushed red. Lips trembling. Too weak to cry.
He looked for the mother. No one.
He tried the doors. Locked.
He found a rock.
I’m sorry.
The first crack split the glass. The second sent fractures spidering. The third shattered everything.
Ethal pulled the baby from the car seat. She was limp against his chest, barely breathing.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered.
Then the screaming started.
“PUT MY BABY DOWN!”
The mother ran toward him in heels, face twisted with rage. She grabbed for the child. Ethan turned, shielding the infant with his body.
“You broke my car!”
“She couldn’t breathe.”
The woman’s eyes darted to her daughter’s face. Flushed. Too still.
“Give… give her to me…”
Ethan held tighter. “Where were you?”
“I was just gone for a minute—”
The baby’s cry weakened. Her eyes started to close.
“She’s not getting better,” Ethan said.
The woman froze.
“…oh god…”
