Page 158 of Tracking Snow

Because we’re really all the same person, Three points out.

Because it’s what we’ve always wanted, Two says, but I can tell he’s unconvinced.

I want to answer, but I can’t. I can’t form a thought. My mind is racing too quickly, my heart pounding a staccato beat against the inside of my ribcage.

Do you think it will feel like dying? Four asks, unusually somber.

I stop abruptly, my hand hovering over the doorknob to Snow’s apartment.

Faefucks.

Will it?

Will we feel...will I feel whole again?

Or will it feel like killing off parts of ourself?

We haven’t been unified in so long I don’t remember what it feels like, Two says.

I do, Three says with airy hopefulness. I dream of it. I remember.

What did it feel like? Six asks.

I open the door before Three can answer, my heart beating too fast again.

Snow looks up from the couch where she is watching a Hex Island rerun. I only know it’s a rerun because she’s made me catch up on all eleven seasons. We are all split on how we feel about that stupid yet somehow addicting reality drama.

The afternoon sunshine spills in through the gauzy curtains onto Snow, illuminating the pure white strands of hair that have fallen from the messy bun held up by a clip. She’s cozy and soft in her sweatpants and tank top.

The light surrounds her like a halo and, yet again, I think there’s absolutely nothing icy about her despite her name and features.

The grin that springs to her lips matches the sparkle in her eye.

The one she has for us.

Only us.

I close the space quickly and lean down, cupping her face in one hand so I can tilt her lips up to the perfect angle. I kiss her deep and long, parting her lips with my tongue so I can taste her.

It’s instantly drugging, but I can’t decide if she’s calmed or quickened the pace of my heart. My blood rushes hotter through me.

The cacophony inside me slowly but surely changes focus until all seven of us have grounded in the woman who keeps us together, keeps us sane, and makes us better men.

In that kiss, I find the refuge I need.

No matter what happens, she’ll be there.

It will be okay.

When I finally pull away, her lips are puffy, eyes glazed over.

“Whoa,” she breathes. “Hello to you too.”

“Is Ariel here?” I ask with a quick glance around.

“Nope,” she says, popping her p before moving to pull her shirt over her head.

I still her movements before she gets the tank past her belly button.