“Yep. It’s Daddy’s. He got it so he didn’t have to get a stupid shitty minivan.” Harper said it so plainly, like foul words weren’t coming out of her mouth.
Jack had just sat in the driver’s seat and pressed start. “I never said that.”
“Yes, you did,” Jace said, backing Harper up. “You said minivans are for sad moms who have given up.”
I stifled a laugh. “Damn, Jack. Teaching them some judgy stances at a young age.”
“Okay, everybody shut up,” he said. “Is everybody buckled? Jace?”
“Yep!”
“Harp?”
“Yep!”
“Aspen?”
“Yep!”
“Hazel?”
“Uh, she says yes,” Gabi cut in.
“Alright, and you two grown-ups?” Jack reached over and tugged at my seatbelt like he was checking it for stability.
“Yes, we’re good,” Gabi laughed. “Man, thorough.”
“Safety is serious,” he said.
“Don’t you get in fights all the time?” I asked.
“Not all the time,” he sighed like I was being so annoying, turning up the music and tapping his inked-up fingers on the steering wheel. I reached to turn it down a little.
“Kinda loud,” I yelled over the music.
“Daddy needs to get pumped!” Harper chimed in.
“You mean driving around two adults and four children doesn’t get you pumped?” I teased.
“I’m sorry. Is this Nickelback?” Gabi cut in.
“Yeah, so?” Jack snapped, looking harried from everyone’s wheedling.
Gabi snickered and Jack pushed on. “What?”
“You unironically listen to Nickelback?” I asked, trying not to let mirth leak into my voice.
He screwed up his face, lifting his hand off the wheel to point at me. “It’s fuck—messed up that people make fun of them. They’re a great band.” He sang along for a few lines to prove his point.
“Wait, wait, you’re Canadian, right?” I asked.
“Yeah. Nova Scotia, why?”
“Makes sense. Canadians always love Nickelback.”
“Every one of you secretly loves them,” he said, starting to bang his head while maintaining a school zone level of speed as we cruised out of the neighborhood. “Hey, I need a snack. Reach in the middle there.”
“Chocolate chip cookies?” Gabi said, incredulous.
