The Cabin Had Only One Bed and the Heater Broke… My Best Friend Said, “Just Get In. I’m Freezing.”

That was how it started.

Innocent.

Stupid.

With pastry.

Three hours later, we were deep in the Oregon mountains, above a frozen lake, inside a rental cabin that smelled like pine cleaner, old smoke, and bad decisions.

The place looked charming from the outside.

Inside, it looked like someone’s grandfather had decorated it in 1987 and then refused all criticism.

Stone fireplace.

Yellow lamps.

A kitchen with mismatched mugs.