---

Emilie was enjoying the third day in a row off work by losing herself in yet another book. Reading was all she seemed to be happy doing lately. Nothing new, Emilie wanted a sure thing so she kept with her old favorites. She'd read five books since last seeing Carter. Hours passed into days as she sat in bed or on the couch and read. She'd come up for air only to notice that the morning sun had turned into an evening sunset.

It was no surprise when the door opened and Dean walked in. He'd been calling her for days, but she had been ignoring everything outside of her book and didn't bother to call him back. Her brother looked furious but didn't say anything. After looking her over, he toed off his boots, hung up his coat and dropped a shopping bag on her coffee table. Dean disappeared into her kitchen for a moment and returned with glasses of water and spoons.

"Eat," he said handing her a warm container.

"I'm not hungry," she told him putting down her books so she could grab the container he continued to hold in her face. She opened the lid and inhaled heaven. "Soup?" She had been expecting Chinese or something. Dean was the king of takeout.

He glared at her. "Have you eaten anything other than cereal lately?"

She took the spoon he held out for her but didn't look at him. "You make it sound like I have a problem."

"Not eating anything but sugar for days is a problem."

He'd gotten her chicken and dumplings. It smelled delicious and her traitorous stomach growled. Dean smirked and dug into his own container of soup.

"You going to talk about it yet?" he asked when she had her mouth full next.

"Nothing to talk about."

He snorted. "That's a lie. Alright, then how about I tell you what we talked about when Carter called me the other day."

Emilie choked and put down the soup before she spilled it on herself. "What are you talking about?"

Dean was looking pretty full of himself since he had gotten her attention. He propped a foot on her coffee table and leaned back on the couch with a smirk that coincidentally, she wanted to smack off his face.

"He had heard the police had been called to the library and wanted to make sure you were ok."

Ugh. That.

Some punk teen, who apparently could not control himself around buttons, had pushed the silent alarm during a teen movie night. She had been supervising the event and was surprised when the whole of the Westlin police department showed up. The kid had turned white at the sight of all those lights and sirens. It had been her own personal hell for a few hours as they had to explain to all the parents who rushed to the library to pick up their kids that it had all been a misunderstanding.  

The worst part was that she had searched for Carter in every cop's face that showed up.

"What did you say?" Emilie asked Dean, while still wrapping her head around the fact that he called.

"I told him what went down and that you were there that night. I also told him that besides work you haven't been seen for days."

She might become an only child tonight. She was a bear and could easily drag his dead body out into the woods and bury him in some remote location.

"When are you going to call him and tell him about Bobby?"

Emilie had made the mistake of telling him what happened the day she got back and when she saw Carter on the street. Dean knew how she was and he was completely surprised with her when she didn't plan on pursuing Carter and setting him straight. Usually, she didn't stop until she got the thing she wanted. Well, this time was different. The thing she wanted didn't want her back. Made it pretty easy not to call when he made it perfectly clear where they stood.

"Never, Dean."

He rolled his eyes. "You are too stubborn for your own good. Don't you think his mind will change once he knows? He's gone because he thinks you wanted Bobby over him."

"Well, he didn't stick around long enough to hear the truth. Couldn't even be bothered to talk to me about it. He broke up with me, Dean. What more do you want me to do?" Emilie put the lid back on the soup and settled back into the couch, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She’d just lost her appetite.

With a raised eyebrow and a smug attitude he asked, "How hard did you try to deliver that truth?"

She snapped her head around and to glare at Dean. "He didn't try too hard to hear the truth," she snapped. He didn't try at all.

Dean couldn't argue there. He tipped his head in submission. He'd drop the subject now. And if he didn't, she'd kick him out.

"When was the last time you left this place?" he asked.

"Uhhh," she honestly couldn't remember. It was the dark of the moon. She always became a bit of a recluse this time of the month. It was a time of reflection and seeing the bigger picture. Well, that's exactly what she was doing. Looking inward. Emilie always saw the forest easier than the individual trees. She tended to miss the fox darting through the underbrush or the lone pine tree in the middle of a maple grove.

So what if she didn't get out much? She was dealing with a breakup right now...two breakups. She deserved a little time to wallow however she saw fit. Inner reflection, eating sugar and reading were what comforted her.

Dean set his soup on the table and sighed when he looked at her. She was unshowered with messy hair, no makeup and in her most comfortable, yet the most embarrassing pajamas she owned. Emilie had gone full hermit. She hadn't even been out to get her mail.

"Let me guess," he said dimly. "You work, come home and then either read or watch TV every damn day. Do you go out with friends? Get a drink after work with co-workers? Anything?"

She wanted to laugh. Friends. That was cute. Emilie didn't have friends. She had Dean and she had Cart-

She had Dean.

She had her work.

She had her bear.

Emilie didn't need anything else.

"You know I'm not that kind of person." Why was he pushing all this? Dean and Emilie had always let the other live their life however they wanted. They interfered when asked or when given no choice. All Emilie was doing was laying low for a bit. Licking her wounds, so to speak.

"You're not what? The kind to have friends?” His face twisted in distaste. “That's bullshit, Emilie. You are independent, not antisocial."

She ground her teeth together. "I'm happy as I am." She didn't need a man or friends to be happy. All the social interaction she needed she got from work. And she was really starting to get to know the people in town. The Lasek's had her over for dinner. She was on a first-name basis with every volunteer at the library. And then there was Jessica at the gas station down the road. Already she could tell what mood Emilie was in by her ice cream choice alone. Emilie was content to be alone. Solitude didn't mean loneliness.

Dean put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her over to him. He kissed her head-- brave man since she hadn't showered in two, maybe three days. "Em, you are comfortable as you are. I'm not arguing that. But that's not the same thing as happy."

There was a small window in his office. Basically, it was a glorified closet but he was grateful for the space and the door. Not many were so lucky. Carter was writing a report from an earlier traffic stop when his phone rang.

"Got a guy down here for you, Bennett. Name's Dean Williams."

Carter frowned. What was Emilie's brother doing here? "Yeah. Send him back."

The police department wasn't much bigger than Westlin's. From his doorway, he could see Dean being let through security. Carter waved him back and then closed the door once he was inside.

"Dean, how are you?" he asked shaking his hand.

He sighed. "Been better."

Carter's stomach tumbled. No reason he could think for Dean to be here. No reason but Emilie. He'd gotten a call a few days ago that had scared him shitless. The library silent alarm had gone off while there had been a teen program going on. Being that they lived in a society of mass shootings, his mind had gone dark.

He went. He left his district and went to Westlin. When he saw her standing outside, arms folded, scowl in place, he knew all was fine. He waved over an officer and got an update on the situation. Kid saw a button and pushed it. Simple as that.

He sat in his car for a good half hour watching her. Emilie talked with each parent who showed up and explained the situation. She had handled everything without so much as cracking that façade of hers. There was one moment when she turned her back to the crowd and took a deep breath. He saw her exhaustion then. Just a flash of it in her eyes. Someone called her name and back she went.

He had left but that flash had bothered him. It shouldn't. He was nothing to her anymore. Not boyfriend, not friend, not even neighbor as he was still at the pack house since Owen was gone. But dammit, he still cared. God help him, he cared. So he called Dean that night to hear how she was holding up. He hadn't gotten much out of him, suspicion lacing every word.

For him to be here now, meant trouble.

"What's going on?" Carter asked as he sat behind his desk.

Dean wondered the room. He didn't have much up on his walls yet but the bear walked to the window and looked out. "She's sequestered herself away. I just came from her house and she has fallen deep into that rabbit hole of hers. Won't take much for her to go into hibernation at this point. One day she might just not wake up and sleep weeks or months..." Dean turned his head and looked right at Carter. "Or years."

"Why?" he asked. Carter didn't know much about bears and hibernating practices. They were a species that didn't group together like the wolves or cats do.

"Safety. Comfort." Dean shrugged. "Stubbornness."

Carter’s lips twitched. Got that right.

"She's too proud to come herself. When she washes her hands of someone, she's done completely. But she is holding out for you. Don't ask me why. I think you are a dick but she's got a thing for you that won't quit."

Holding out for him? Every day he had wondered why she was still there, in town. He kept his phone on him, waiting for her call but it never came. He couldn’t call, wouldn’t call. Carter bent every time when it came to her. Since Emilie kept her feeling locked up tight, if he gave and called her he would never know if this was what she wanted. That’s why she was supposed to tell him she was back, that she chose to come back to him. Over the last few days, his anger had abated to confusion and over the whole damn situation clouded every thought he had.

"Why are you telling me this?" And what was he going to do about it?

Dean pulled the visitor's chair away from the wall and over to the desk. He sat and met him head on. "She has no idea I'm here. Probably would pound me into a million pieces if she ever found out. But I think you need to know even if you are the one that broke her heart. Actually, it's because of that I want you to know."

Carter knew what he was going to say. Had known it since he had seen her that day at the library. Had feared it. That churning in his stomach every time he thought of her wasn't just guilt for the damage he inflicted when he tried to protect himself and paused their relationship. It was him second guessing himself, wondering if maybe his pride was getting in the way of his happiness. Every time he wondered why she was still here and not back home, he knew. His subconscious knew. His pride stood tall, though, and couldn’t be budged. His wolf had wanted to pursue but he ignored him.

"She broke up with him after getting him off the murder charges.”

Carter closed his eyes. What had he done?

Satisfied with the broken and guilty look Carter had on his face, Dean continued. “She's always been too independent for her own good. Doesn't ask for help, doesn't open up, doesn't share. But let me tell you," Dean said leaning forward. "She lights up like a freaking Christmas tree when she talks about you. Eyes, smile, the whole nine yards. Her soul beams. I've never seen her like that before. Not with anyone."

"Why wouldn't she tell me that?” he asked, more like begged Dean. “I told her to tell me when she got back but she never did. I thought I had made it clear that I was here waiting for her."

"You don't even live there anymore,” Dean spat. "She got home and you were gone and as far as I know, she reached out but never heard from you." He had lost her brother's respect. Didn't blame him either. Carter wasn't feeling much for himself right now either.

"I never heard from her," he said absently as he thought back over the last few days. There had been nothing from her.

Dean shrugged, not caring. "Your window of opportunity is closing. Like I said, when she is done, she's done for good." Dean stood, pushed the chair back to where it belonged. "What you do next is your choice. I just thought you should know all the facts. Emilie will survive either way. She'll go on like she always does. The choice is yours at this point. I don't say that to sound brash, she cared for you more than I've seen her care for anyone. But Emilie will always find a way to go on. It's a matter of if she is surviving or if she is living. That's what you'll give her. The chance to actually live."

At his door Dean stopped and turned back. His mouth set in a hard line like he was deciding if he wanted to say something. “If you want her back, don’t just tell her that. Words aren’t always truthful even when they are honest. Show her that you want her back.”

Dean left Carter staring at his desk. His pulse was rampant as he considered what the bear had said. So much to think about, but with a timer that could go off at any second.

As much as he appreciated Dean coming to tell him all this, Carter wanted to hear it from her. He still had doubts. The fiancé had wedged himself deep between them without even being conscious of it. Carter may have overreacted but she hadn't reacted at all. That had killed him. Emilie had just agreed with him about the break. She hadn’t fought it at all. What was he supposed to have thought?  

Carter wanted to talk to her, had half a mind to leave and go see here right then. But he'd need to do this right. Just showing up had too many variables. She might not let him in, might not answer the door. Hell, she might not even be home.

He'd have to do things a little differently if he wanted to get the answers he wanted from her.