The Solution

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Adrian was waiting on the porch when Scarlet and Peter returned to the house. He stood, crossing his arms, as they came up the steps.

"Where were you?" he asked.

"Just talking," Scarlet replied. "You look better." She puzzled at him, noticing the absence of any scars or bruises on him.

Adrian's face softened a little as he glanced at Peter. "Yeah."

"I'll leave you two to talk," Peter said.

Scarlet watched as Peter breezed into the house, looking absolutely exhausted. She and Adrian sat next to each other on the steps.

"Where's Penny?" Scarlet asked.

"Inside," said Adrian, "lying down. What happened with you two earlier?"

Scarlet sighed. "I don't know. She's sick, apparently. Peter says she's conflicted or something."

"I see." Adrian put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Scarlet's head rested against him and she closed her eyes, just breathing and trying to calm her mind. It had been the strangest and most chaotic day of her life, and she wasn't sure how she was still standing.

"How did you heal so quickly?" Scarlet asked. "I thought wounds from your alpha didn't heal like that."

"Peter helped me," Adrian replied. When he didn't elaborate, Scarlet thought of asking him how, but speaking seemed like too much work.

"I'm tired," she said, her voice barely audible.

Adrian responded by moving his arm down her back, the other arm sliding under her knees. He lifted Scarlet from the stairs and carried her inside.

She didn't have the energy to open her eyes. Soft pillows and warm blankets surrounded her, and she heard Adrian's footsteps retreating from the room.

"Stay," she whispered. "Please."

She felt the weight of the bed shift next to her as Adrian laid down. She wasn't sure whose bedroom she was in or what time it was, but she welcomed sleep, silently hoping she would wake up to realize this whole thing was just a dream.

Unfortunately, Scarlet woke up in Peter's cabin the next morning to the realization that everything was true. Everything that had happened, that had seemed too awful to be real, had actually occurred.

The early morning sun streaked through the blinds, lining Adrian's sleeping face. Scarlet got up and followed the scent of coffee. It led her into the kitchen where Oskar sat perched on the counter, a yellowing book in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. He looked up when she entered and flashed a grin.

"Morning," he said. "Help yourself." He nodded toward the coffee pot.

"Thanks," Scarlet replied. She poured herself a cup and sat at the small table in the corner, looking out the window at the frost on the grass. Puddles in the rutted driveway were frozen over with the kind of ice that groans and squeals a warning before it breaks.

The coffee was sweet and sharp, and it burned her tongue as she took a sip. It wasn't a painful burning, but a welcome, familiar feeling that made her close her eyes and think of Will back at Brew Boys who always dropped an ice cube into his own coffee before drinking it.

Scarlet felt Oskar's eyes on her but wasn't sure what to say to him.

"So," she said, "how long have you known Peter?"

Oskar chuckled. "My whole life."

"Really?"

"He was there when I was born," he said. "My mother died giving birth to me, and he promised to take care of me."

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