Page 39 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

Jules goes quiet on the other end of the phone. I know her too well. It’s easy for me to read her mind, even from the top of the San Bernardino Mountains. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to move up here. The men are hot, and they treat me like I’m normal… kind of, but there's nothing up here. I can’t find a Pilates studio or a place to get a green juice.”

Jules sucks in a breath. Finally, someone who understands my pain. “I miss you,” she says. “Make sure you get your ass back down here as soon as the snow clears.” A blaring horn drills through the phone. “Shit, I gotta go. Keep in touch, okay?”

I end the call and stare into the distance. Eventually, I decide to head back to my own cabin.

I swear Jules is the only good thing in LA.

My chest tightens the more I think about going back. Even after a few days, there will be questions and interviews— people snapping photos of me and plastering them all over social media, saying how unwell I look after being caught in a blizzard. No, honey—that’s just my face, a visual representation of how I feel about being back in the city.

I walk into my cabin, intending to shake off the anxiety with a Pilates session. For the time being, I’ll have to tolerate the dust and my leg hitting the couch. The main cabin is occupied, and Cash has a vendetta against me that I’m too emotionally exhausted to deal with for the time being.

I step up into the cabin and switch on the light, waiting for the flicker to settle. Before doing anything else, I take a shower since I slept in my clothes from yesterday. Gross. This has to be the longest I’ve ever worn the same pair of underwear.

I shimmy out of my jeans and step into the shower. It’s a race against time as I wash off before the water turns cold.

I count twenty Mississippis before the hot water turns freezing cold.

And then the bathroom light goes off.

I groan and step out of the shower, dripping wet. I didn’t even get a chance to shampoo my goddamn hair. It’ll be drier than the Mojave Desert tomorrow if I leave it like this without any product in it.

I wrap a scratchy, too-small towel around my body.

My teeth chatter as I stand, freezing cold, dripping on the floor, waiting for the light to come back on. But nothing happens.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

I tear open the door and find that the rest of the cabin has no power either.

I can’t say I’m surprised that the power is out. I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere.

I head out into the cold, wet towel wrapped around me, and march through the snow back to the main cabin.

I fly through the door and immediately feel three pairs of eyes land on me.

I’m not cold anymore, but I am still incredibly annoyed.

“Have you goons never seen a woman in a towel before?” I’m about to extend my arms in question, but I save myself from making a big mistake and flashing all three of them. “The power is out. I need your help. Now.”

That rattles them out of their trance.

Knox and Eli rush past me and march through the snow. I clutch the towel around my body and follow them.

When I get back to the cabin, I see the pair of them marching through the place, checking the electrical panel and other devices I don’t know how to work.

My breath catches as I see Knox enter the bathroom. My clothes are still in a pile on the floor, my pink lace panties at the top of the pile. He turns on the shower and tests the water. He switches the shower off with a grunt and reconvenes with Eli in the main room.

“The main fuse is blown,” Eli says to me. “It needs replacing, but the nearest Home Depot is on the other side of the valley.” He points to the window. Everything outside is white. “We don’t have anything to trip it back on with.”

I blink, waiting for them to elaborate. “Can you start speaking English?”

“You’ll need to move into our cabin,” says Knox.

They must be joking.

I take a step back. That’s not going to happen. There’s not enough room in there.

“What?” I ask, my heart racing. “I can’t.”