Slipping Through My Fingers - Nathan MacKinnon

Chapter 8

Eighteen years old

It had been a while since you had heard from Andrew.

When Reed reassured you that it was normal, you couldn't exactly think that every kid ignored their parents for almost a month. It couldn't be normal, right?

You had sent texts, you had called, only to be left on delivered, to be faced with his voicemail. And the same went with Nathan. You hadn't heard from him for a long time, and every time you tried to call, he wouldn't answer. To say your nerves were over the roof was an understatement.

"Trust me, darling, he's probably just busy," Terry admitted, his eyes focused on the ocean. "My kids could ignore me for days and then act like nothing happened."

Yeah, if only Andrew had forgotten about you for only a few days, you thought, a hand going to rub your forehead.

"Even Angie forgets to call sometimes," Reed said, resting his palms on your shoulders. "That's what happens when they move out."

It wasn't like you didn't trust Nathan. He had stayed by your side since day one, and you had grown to trust him, respect him. Twenty-year-old you wouldn't have believed you on that one.

Your mother instincts, as much as you wanted them to slow down, couldn't help but worry. Was your son doing okay? How was school going? It was his senior year, after all...

"And if he doesn't text, then just call his father." Raffie said, his words of wisdom making you sigh out.

"Already tried that. Sent to voicemail," you mumbled, playing with the sleeves of your shirt. 'Lifeguard' was written in capital letters across your chest, almost reminding you of where you were. The waves crashed angrily against the coast, the sound ringing in your ears even from the safety of the tower.

Sarcasm slipped from Reed's mouth. "He's too busy being an NHL coach, Raffie."

"To even return her calls?" Raffie tsked. "Please."

You shrugged, eyebrows scrunching when you noticed hands turning up a few meters from shore. You rose to your feet, taking off your shirt, fixing your wetsuit on your way out. The guys inside the tower followed your line of sight, seeing the patient struggling. "Go, go!" You heard Raffie yell.

You ran with everything you had, grabbing the nearest board as the wind rolled through your hair, pushing it behind your shoulders. Dropping the board on the water, you slid on top, paddling towards the person as quickly as you could.

When you were on the job, you tried to lock your home life in a small box and keep it closed until you went back home. That day, it felt like you couldn't. Mother instincts being involved, and all that.

As you paddled towards the victim of the winter conditions, your brain kept working, until it stopped on a name. Sarah.

"You alright?" You yelled, realizing the patient was a boy in his twenties, lips blue, teeth clattering. You didn't hear his answer, patting the board to motion him to climb on top. He followed your orders, and you were back to shore before you could even notice it.

You helped the man to the tower for a quick check-up and to keep him warm, still that one name on your mind. Sarah. How the hell did you forget about her?
Nathan's sister had been basically the only person in that family - obviously, apart from the father of your child - that had accepted you with open arms. She certainly would pick up if you called, right?

Your colleagues immediately wrapped the patient in a warm beach towel, keeping his body temperature in check as they put the oxygen mask over his lips to help him breathe. Checking that he was taken care of, you grabbed your phone and headed towards the showers, trying to find some privacy.