Page 74 of Cold as Hell

I look out the window. Snow, trees, more snow. It’s gorgeous landscape, particularly after the storm, but there’s nothing to see except that landscape, no sign of civilization in sight. Mountains. Frozen lakes. Endless green conifers. Anything that looks like a road is just a creek or river.

I peer at the sky. It’s dark to the southwest, which is where we’re flying, but it’s clear here. I glance at Dalton. He’s still talking, but I can see his expression now. It’s grim, a little angry, his lips forming curt, clipped words. He nods, as if pushing back his annoyance. He says something more and then hits a button to end the transmission.

Then he hits another to open the communication between us.

“Got a problem,” he says. “Cloud cover’s dropping in Whitehorse. Storm’s blowing in. They’re suggesting we redirect to Dawson.” A pause, at least five seconds long. Then a quick glance my way. “What do you want to do?”

“Divert to Dawson City or push on to Whitehorse?”

He shakes his head, attention back on the cockpit window. “I wouldn’t take the risk of pushing on. I mean head to Dawson or turn back?”

I consider that. Dawson City is the second-biggest urban center in the Yukon. Except, at barely over a thousand people, “urban center” is pushing it. Yet it has a regional health facility. Even then, it’s not as if I’m in imminent danger of having this baby tonight. We’re looking at a day or two at most in Dawson, and then pushing on to Whitehorse to resume the plan.

“Dawson’s good,” I say.

He nods, and it’s a little abrupt.

I lean to see his face. “That’s not your choice.”

“No, it is. I just…”

He trails off and refocuses on flying. I let him do that and wait to see whether more is coming. When it’s not, I decide to tablethe conversation until he’s not at the controls of a plane. If he had concerns about landing in Dawson, he’d say so. I’m guessing he’s just annoyed about not being able to get to Whitehorse today. He’ll feel a lot better once I’m minutes from a hospital.

He switches to the outgoing radio to make plans with the Dawson City airport. We deal with them a lot, and he knows most of the people who work there. I let myself drift into my thoughts as the plane takes a slight turn west.

It’s about thirty minutes later when I’m roused from my thoughts by Dalton shifting in his seat. There’s a crackle in the air, as if I can sense his annoyance again, and I glance over to see him back on the radio. I frown. We should be getting close to Dawson. Is there a…?

I see the problem. Right outside the windshield.

We’ve started our descent, and we’re flying straight into a snowstorm.

I glance at Dalton but push down the urge to signal him. Do not pester the pilot. He’s on the radio, presumably with the Dawson City airport.

I turn my attention back to the windows, and my stomach does a little flip as the snow rushes at us.

“I’ve got this,” Dalton says, his sudden voice making me jump.

I look over. He reaches to squeeze my leg before taking the yoke again. His gaze never leaves the front window.

“It’s just a little squall,” he says. “I can fly us down. Helps that we have a better plane now.”

I force a smile at that, even though he can’t see it. The bush plane we had in Rockton was fine but old, and this is an upgrade, with the latest tech. Courtesy of Émilie, of course. It’s not her fancy Cessna TTx—that would draw too much attention. But it’s a solid and modern aircraft, and a “little squall” isn’t going to stop Dalton from being able to land.

“I’m just pissed off at myself,” he says. He flips a switch and checks a screen. “We shouldn’t have left. You didn’t want to. You didn’t need to. This was on me.”

“No, Eric, it wasn’t. April agreed—”

“April agreed for my sake. Because I’m freaking out at the chance of losing you. I just never… I never really understood the risks, and I know no pregnancy is risk-free, and maybe I’d still be freaking out if we were living in Vancouver and you didn’t have any prior issues but… I let my fucking insecurities take over when we should have stayed in town.”

“You’ve got this,” I say.

He flips another switch. “The landing? Yeah. I’ve got that. What I don’t have is my damn shit together and the fucking common sense not to make things worse because I’m panicking over getting you someplace safe.”

I reach over and touch his leg. “Leaving was the right choice. Will said if something went wrong with the pregnancy and I hadn’t left, I’d never forgive myself, even if leaving wouldn’t have helped. He’s right. I wanted to stay. I needed to leave. We made the right call.”

“Now land the damn plane?”

“Please.”

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