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The wind is really picking up. Cold air and wet snow blast me in the face while I fill my arms with wood and bring the load back inside. My footprints from the trek across the property are already almost filled in.

I should have brought a trolley or something to carry the wood, but instead, I’m stuck making a dozen trips to ensure that I’ll have enough stacked in the cabin to last at least a week.

It’s turning into a whiteout, so if I don’t stock the cabin up now, I might not be able to find my way across the yard and back again later.

What’s becoming painfully obvious is that Gavin was right.

I’m not any good at surviving the elements, and I have become a city girl.

But there’s no choice.

I’ll just have to figure things out as I go.

After the final trip, I’m breathing hard and am grateful to close the door behind me for the last time against the worst of the cold. Since the cabin is so small, it shouldn’t take long to heat up.

I wasn’t sure if anyone would bother to raid such a simple cabin that doesn’t contain anything valuable, but given how much everyone here hates my family, I wouldn’t have been too surprised to find it burned to the ground.

Luckily, it’s still standing.

Strong wind batters the cabin, and ice and snow pelt the windows in a loud, unfamiliar symphony. I used to love being cuddled up inside with a book during storms, but that was back when I wasn’t the person in charge of heat and safety.

It’s been years since I started a fire, and it takes me a lot longer than it should to figure out such a simple task. When I finally get a flame going, I almost cheer in relief, hoping that it stays lit.

I remember my dad building countless fires, but I never really paid attention to the steps. At least now I know what doesn’t work and that I can’t just skip ahead and directly set a log on fire, hoping for the best.

These accommodations are a far cry from the condo I shared with my ex in Edison Park, but at least there’s a roof over my head.

Cell phone reception is spotty at best, but I take a minute to try and send a text back to Chicago, wishing like hell there was at least one friendly face in Montana.

But the only people who love me have been left behind – again.

Candice:Did you make it to the cabin?

Ashley:I’m here. The snow is really coming down, and it sounds like the walls are going to blow right off.

Candice:You shouldn’t have gone there, Ash. You could have stayed with me until you got back on your feet.

Ashley:Girl, I appreciate the offer, but you live in a studio apartment. I think David would get sick of me sleeping in your bed with you, lol.

Candice:Ugh. Well, you can’t stay there either.

Ashley:I know. It’s temporary. I just need to get my life together. Everything is such a goddamn mess.

Candice:It’s going to get better. It has to. Keep me posted and let me know that you’re okay.

Ashley:Will do.

The cabin has been unused for years, and I now remember there is a set process to get water running in the pipes from the well. Even though my dad would have blown out the pipes and poured antifreeze to winterize the place, it’s been so long and is so goddamn cold that the pipes are probably frozen by now.

So that means… No water. Somehow, I overlooked that fine detail.

Who needs showers anyway?

At least I brought Lysol wipes and other supplies that don’t require running water, so I spend some time cleaning, focusing on the areas I immediately need access to first.

The fridge is scrubbed down before I load everything in it, I clean the bathroom from top to bottom, and then make the bed with fresh sheets.

Being back here reminds me of a time when life was simple and I didn’t have adult responsibilities to worry over.