Page 16 of Puck the Halls
Okay, maybe it was a little my fault as well. I knew poking at him about Dani having fun solo with Michael would get under his skin. And that showing her flirting with me on the phone was really going to rile him up.
“I’m sorry, too,” I say. “Wrong place, wrong time to mess with you. But we’re both fine. Let’s just forget about it and figure out how to get the hell out of here.”
“I don’t think I can move,” Nathan says. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”
He’s breathing too hard and his hands are still on the steering wheel white knuckling it.
Holy shit, I think he’s having a panic attack.
On the best of days, I’m not exactly a calming force. That’s Michael. That’s Dani.
I don’t know what to do other than to reach out and grip his shoulder and give him a reassuring squeeze. “Hey. You’re not having a heart attack. Just take a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.”
It goes to show you how freaked out he must be because he just obeys me without question, inhaling and exhaling slowly. The grip on the steering wheel eases ever so slightly.
“Relax your shoulders and breathe in again.”
His shoulders drop an inch from their current position around his ears.
While he’s breathing, I put the car in park and hit the button to turn off the ignition. I can’t see shit outside so while I’m assuming we’re in a ditch, I can’t guarantee that. We could be dangling on the edge of a mountain incline about to plunge to our death for all I know.
Then I realize there aren’t mountains in Illinois.
I wasn’t exactly a top-notch student but even I know that.
I spent half of high school on a bus driving around the midwest for hockey tournaments. It’s flat here, thank God.
But just in case, I tell Nathan, who is breathing like a motherfucking yoga champ, “We should probably exit the vehicle slowly just in case it’s unstable?—
Nathan completely ignores my words of caution.
He springs into action, undoing his seat belt and door and jumping out into a blizzard like the damn car is on fire.
“—and we slide,” I finish.
I sit there, waiting for the car to move but nothing happens.
With a sigh of relief, I shove open the passenger door and climb out into the howling wind, my feet instantly sinking into several feet of snow.
Nathan is bent over, hands on his knees.
I walk around the front awkwardly, snow slapping me in the face as I remind myself that I love my wife and kids and it is my responsibility to get both me and Nathan to Aspen in one fucking piece.
Even if this is Nathan’s fault.
“Get back in the car!” I yell to him, because yelling is the only way to be heard in this bullshit weather. “You’ll freeze to death out here.”
But Nathan shakes his head. “I can’t get back in the car. I need a minute.”
Fuck.
Nathan is wearing a suit. He looks ridiculously out of place standing in snow up to his calves, eyelashes and hair now covered in thick fat flakes.
He is out of place. Nate belongs in his private jet, not in a rental sedan in the middle of a rural snowstorm.
“Look at me,” I tell him, trying to decide if I need gentle parenting or tough love.
We all know in our family that Dani and Michael lean toward gentle parenting. Nathan is just a total pushover. And I tend to be the fuck around and find out dad. If I tell you no and you do it anyway, you gotta live with the consequences.
