Gunnar bolts up ahead of us as we try to make a path on the two feet of snow that’s windswept into little mountains and valleys out in the field where my plane crashed. The big black dog is pulling the sled, but he’s not traveling in a straight line, so the packed down snow that he’s leaving behind him is a weaving, random path. Ace marches ahead, and Razor trudges slower, keeping an eye on me and stopping occasionally to check up on me when I start falling too far behind.

I feel like I’m walking over a decadent dessert I once ate at a fancy restaurant in Anchorage. A crème brûlée, it was called. My boots crack through the icy top layer of snow, crisp and frozen shards splinter around my feet just like how I had to break my spoon through the caramelized sugar on the fancy pudding. And then I sink into the soft, fluffy clouds of snow hiding underneath, reminding me of the velvety, smooth custard I gobbled up that night.

Everything is so painfully white. With the break in the weather, today is the first day since the day I flew out last week where the sun has actually shone down. Every surface is sparkling bright, like a spotlight shining in a cave of diamonds, it’s almost blinding.

I remember how my grandmother once showed me how her elders had prevented going snow-blind back before they lived in the wood houses she died in. The little goggles carved from caribou antler had a long horizontal slit over each eye. I remember scoffing when I first saw them. I was starting to only want to wear things that were “cool” and those goggles definitely didn’t fit the bill. She insisted that I try on a pair and I reluctantly agreed. I got to see for myself how much they cut down the glare of the endless sea of snow, but also how much better it made my eyesight. I could easily understand why they were popular with the old hunters.

I scan the horizon, wishing I had a pair of those painfully unfashionable glasses right now. Instead, I have to squint to protect my eyes from this glinting light. My gaze is lost in the monotone whiteout but then a spot of color drags my eye over and, even though I know better than to run in these conditions, I sprint over the land to the first signs of Qilaq’s wreckage.

Huffing and puffing, the cold squeezes my lungs as I sink to my knees and sweep my hands over the plane wing. That’s it all right, as I dig it out, I can see where it was torn clean off the side of my little Cessna. I can’t help but stare at it, in shock, like how someone just stares down at a limb that got torn free from a body at a car accident.

“There’s nothing I love more than taking my girls out for a flight.” Dad gave my cheek a pinch and then ran his hand over Qilaq’s yoke.

I remember how the buttons and gears were still an overwhelming sight then. I couldn’t imagine ever understanding how to fly her. It always amazed me that something so small could be so complicated.

“Do you think you’re ready to be my co-pilot, Cait?” He smiled over at me, his dark eyes twinkling. My father carried a lot of his mother’s traits in his face. I have his same round cheeks, but I got my mother’s lighter eyes. However, I have the same dark, shiny hair that came from my Inuit ancestry. The same as my father and his mother before him.

“Co-pilot?” I was nervous. At seven, I wasn’t ready to take on such a huge responsibility. Of course, Dad never told me that what he really meant by “co-pilot” was just to sit up front with him and watch him work.

“Yep,” he beamed proudly at me, “I know you can do it, you just pay attention and treat Qilaq right and she’ll behave for us. She’s just like every other child, she needs some love, some attention and some encouragement and she can soar higher than you ever dreamed. Just like you, little one.” He gently bopped me on the nose with his finger and I grinned.

“Okay,” I swelled up with confidence, “I’m ready.”

Tears line my eyes, making everything blurry as I stand up and look out at the rest of the wreckage. Qilaq’s tail and wings are sheared off. The metal is twisted and mangled from where it hit the ground. I slowly walk over to the cockpit that the guys pulled me free from. The one that my sister managed to keep me safe in, even as she died around me. Fat tears slide over my cheeks and instantly feel icy against my skin.

“Hey, do you want us to try to recover anything?” Ace walks up behind me and I can’t talk. I know if I do, my voice will give way to a flood of tears. I just shake my head no. It’s easy to see that nothing can be salvaged that they didn’t already grab. It’s absolutely amazing that they were able to get me out of this with all of my limbs and organs intact.

“You okay?” Razor joins us and immediately zeros in on my tears.

“I will be.” I sniff.

The three of us stand in silence. The cold wind whipping over Qilaq’s grave and sending tiny twisting cyclones of snow over the open space. I close my eyes and bow my head, saying a silent goodbye to the only link I had left to my family. To the people who cared about me most in this world. I know they’ve been gone for a while now, but now that Qilaq is destroyed, it somehow makes their deaths more final. It makes me feel more alone.

It’s like the guys can read my thoughts because Ace wraps his arm around my lower back and Razor slides his hand over my shoulder. They press into me, reassuring me with their strength. Just with their presence.

It’s strange how, only a couple days ago, we shared our first experience together. Now, after I don’t even know how many more times of being shared by them, I’m starting to find it hard to imagine not having both of them there. What started out as a novelty, wanting to be claimed by two men, now feels like the only normal way to live. The way both of them comfort me, cuddle me, the way we joke with each other and the way we fuck, it’s all beginning to feel deeper and more meaningful than any relationship I’ve ever had with just one guy before. Especially with my ex-husband.

“You guys were right, there’s nothing left.” I choke on the realization. “We should head back.” I turn and try to keep my head held high as I march away. Always gotta be that tough girl. Don’t let them see you cry.

I’m not sure who grabs my arm first, but before I know it, they’ve pulled me back between them and I’m completely blanketed by their warm, strong embrace.

“Don’t do that,” Ace softly chides me.

“Yeah, you’re allowed to feel sad, Caitlin,” Razor agrees.

I don’t know if it’s the way I feel so safe in their arms, or the caring timbre of their voices, or just the emotional toll seeing Qilaq torn up has had on me, but I break down. I can’t contain my sobs as my shoulders jerk between them. I fall against them and they hold me up, not rushing me, just protecting me from the wind, from the wreckage, from the pain. They hold me until I can’t cry anymore, until my last tear slides over my face and dries against my skin.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“No need to thank us.” Ace wipes his gloved thumb over my face and Razor nods in agreement.

I look up at them, these two guys that make me feel like there’s nothing in this world they wouldn’t do for me, and my gut twists up inside. My brows furrow together and I pull free from their embrace. “Okay, seriously this time, let’s go.” I move with purpose back toward the cabin.

I could see the confusion pass over their faces, the questions in their gray and blue eyes, but they don’t say anything out loud. Because it’s a conversation none of us wants to have. The one about how the storm has ended and, once real emergencies have been dealt with, a plane will come out here and pick me up. How I’ll fly away and never see them again. How this arrangement between us, the one that feels like perfection, is almost over.