Of all the things Peeta Mellark was planning to do that night, obsessively stalking a woman he had no right to even be looking at was not high up on his list. But there he was, parked down the street from Katniss Everdeen's house, his hands gripping the steering wheel of his secondhand Camry so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
You're making a mountain out of a molehill, he told himself. So she didn't turn up at the soup kitchen. Volunteers are allowed to do that. That's why they're called volunteers.
But Rue, another regular volunteer who worked with Katniss at the Department of Natural Resources, said she hadn't gone to work, either. Rue had texted her best friend Prim—Katniss's sister—only to receive a cryptic She's not feeling well in reply.
A gentle voice interrupted his thoughts. "Peeta?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin. A beat-up old truck had slowed down to a stop beside his car, and the passenger window rolled down to reveal Primrose Everdeen herself, looking down at him with concern.
"Prim," he croaked. A furtive glance revealed that it was Rory Hawthorne, Gale's younger brother and doppelgänger, in the driver's seat. The thought of Katniss's intimidating alpha male boyfriend filled Peeta with even more guilt than before. "Rory."
"Are you coming over to see Katniss?" Prim asked, tugging on her blonde braid.
"Sort of," Peeta stammered. "She didn't come to the soup kitchen, and Rue said she didn't show up for work, so I thought—I thought maybe she was sick."
Prim exchanged worried glances with Rory before turning back to Peeta. "I guess you could say that."
"She broke up with Gale," Rory said bluntly.
Peeta froze.
"Rory!" Prim reprimanded him. "That's between Katniss and Gale."
Her boyfriend shrugged. "People are going to find out sooner or later. It might as well be sooner."
"I'm really sorry to hear that," Peeta said. And he was. Katniss and Gale had been having problems lately—any couple would, after eight years of dating—but, well, one look at them and anyone would know that they belonged together. They even looked a little alike, with their matching dark hair, gray eyes, and ridiculously perfect bone structure. Each time Peeta saw them, it was like a punch to the gut.
But now they weren't together, not anymore. Something like hope fluttered in his chest. Would he have a chance now? Don't be a jerk, Mellark. He couldn't make a move on her so soon. Besides, did he even know how to make a move on a girl anymore? He'd been good at it, once upon a time. But when he entered the seminary, he'd accepted that there were things in life—marriage, fatherhood—that just weren't meant for him. Even after dropping out last year, he didn't dare think that those things could be back on the table. Then he'd met Katniss and fallen hopelessly in love with her despite his better judgment, despite knowing she was with someone else. Someone who actually deserved her.
Besides, relationships like Katniss and Gale's didn't end just like that. There was too much history, too much baggage, for it to be a clean break.
"I'm sure they'll get back together eventually," Peeta added.
"I doubt it," Rory said. "Gale's running away to Europe. He's got a flight booked and everything."
"Rory!" Prim scolded him.
"It's true! He's leaving next week!"
Heart pounding at the implication—at the knowledge that Katniss was single, and that Gale was going to go far, far away very soon—Peeta retrieved the large paper bag that was sitting in his passenger seat. "I don't want to impose," he began anxiously, "but if you don't mind, could you give this to Katniss for me? It's probably not a good idea for me to visit, under the circumstances."
"Of course," Prim said, leaning out the window to accept the package. "Can I ask what's in it?"
"It's, um, lamb stew," Peeta told her. "There's some bread, too. Actually... you know what, don't tell her it was from me. There's enough for four people, so you can just serve it for dinner without saying anything."
A sweet smile lit up Prim's cornflower blue eyes. "I won't need to say anything. She loves everything you make; one taste and she'll know it's from you."
Peeta blushed. "Thanks." He was usually much more confident than this; he'd been student council president and captain of the wrestling team in high school. He'd even been able to talk his way around Father Athelstan, during his short-lived stint at the seminary. But there was something about the Everdeen sisters that left him either tongue-tied or blabbering like an idiot.
"I guess we'll see you around, Peeta," Prim said. "Thanks for the food."
The words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could put a stop to them. "Anything for Katniss."
.
ooo
.
Vostead, Washington
It was like they were fourteen years old again, caught up in daydreams of romance, practicing for homecoming like they used to do.
"I love this song," Annie sighed, resting her chin on Madge's shoulder. They were in Madge's old room, slow dancing along to Mr. and Mrs. Undersee's wedding video. "Every time I hear it, I turn to mush. And after all these years, Roberta Flack's version is still the best by far."
The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
On the TV screen, a younger Eric and Mathilde Undersee held each other tenderly for the first time as a married couple: foreheads touching, his hand on the small of her back, their feet barely moving to the music.
Tears welled up in Madge's eyes, but she blinked them away. "How long are you staying in town?" she asked quietly.
"I have to go back to Reykjavík next week," Annie said regretfully. "That paper isn't going to write itself, and I need the university's computers to parse all that data."
And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the endless skies, my love
"Oh," Madge said in a small voice.
"Come with me," Annie urged, giving her best friend a small squeeze. "You need a change of scenery. And you can't really beat Iceland for scenery."
"It would be nice," Madge admitted. "Aunt Maysilee gave me all that Viking stuff from Grandpa Donner... I've been reading what I can, but most of the books are in Old Norse. Someone from Iceland would be able to translate them."
"There you go."
"But I'm not sure I can afford to miss work for much longer," Madge said doubtfully.
"You work at a law firm that Seneca's dad runs. I'm sure they'll be okay with it."
To the dark and the endless skies.
Seneca appeared in the doorway, rapping his knuckles lightly on the frame. "I heard my name." His expression softened at the sight of Madge and Annie in each other's arms. "May I cut in?"
Annie released Madge from her embrace and stepped back. "Of course. I needed to email my adviser anyway." She picked up her phone and laptop from Madge's bed. "I'll be in the living room."
The door clicked shut behind her.
And the first time ever I kissed your mouth
I felt the earth move in my hand
Seneca's arms were strong around Madge, and his scent was familiar and comforting. And even though they weren't engaged, even though they hadn't been together that long, Madge couldn't help wondering what it would be like to marry him. After all, he was a lot like her father had been at that age: an up-and-coming, ambitious lawyer, with an appetite for politics and grand ideas for the future.
A vision filled Madge's mind. A long, flowing dress; the tall, dark, handsome man she would call her husband. Rose petals, music, dancing.
Like the trembling heart of a captive bird
That was there at my command, my love
Another image: empty chairs at her wedding, where her mother and father should be sitting.
Madge looked back at the television, at the ghosts of her parents dancing across the screen. At that small, poignant memory preserved, crystallized in time. Eric and Mathilde's story was over and done before Madge's had even begun.
That was there at my command, my love.
Happy thoughts, Madge chided herself. Only think happy thoughts.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried again.
And the first time ever I laid with you
I felt your heart so close to mine
A long, flowing dress.
The tall, dark, handsome man she would call her husband.
Rose petals, music, dancing.
Her husband, whispering in her ear. Our story will never end, she could hear him say. That is how much I love you.
And I knew our joy would fill the earth
And last 'til the end of time, my love
But it wasn't Seneca that she saw in her mind's eye; not his blue eyes that were gazing back down at her just then. No, it was a different man altogether, someone she had never even met before. Someone with the smell of the forest lingering on his skin. Someone whose features were clouded beyond recognition, save for the green and purple lights reflected in his silver eyes.
He was a stranger, but he knew her, understood her, the way her father had understood her mother, the way Aunt Maysilee and Uncle Haymitch understood each other. The way that, all of a sudden, Madge knew in her heart Seneca—through no fault of his own—never could.
And it would last 'til the end of time,
My love.
.
ooo
.
"Penny for your thoughts, m'lady," Seneca said softly, when the song was over.
Madge's face grew warm. "It's nothing," she hastened to say. "I was just thinking... about my parents. About this song."
Seneca smiled sadly at her. "It makes you think, doesn't it." The way he said the words made it sound like a statement, not a question. "How precious every moment is. How you should spend as much time as you can with the one you truly love. And... and if you haven't met him yet, how you should go out there, put yourself out there, so he can find you. So you can find him."
Madge stiffened. Could he read her mind? Did he know?
"I do love you," Seneca said, looking down at their intertwined hands. "But I haven't been a good friend to you. I haven't been entirely honest with you—or with myself. And I wanted to wait, wait until the worst of your grief had passed, but... I don't think I can live this lie any longer. Madge... please don't be angry with me for what I'm about to say."
And Madge knew. She knew what it was before he even said it. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes, and she was finally able to see him clearly for the very first time. Every niggling doubt she had pushed aside in the past, because Seneca said he loved her and she wanted to believe him, every piece of the puzzle was now falling into place. She didn't know whether to laugh, because at least now she didn't have to break up with him, or to cry, because all this time she had thought she was smarter than that, and all this time she had been so very wrong.
She reached up and touched his face. "It's okay," she found herself saying. "I'm not angry. In fact, I... when the shock wears off, I'm sure I'll find that I'm actually... happy."
Relief flooded Seneca's chiseled features, and he gratefully pressed his lips to her hand before placing it over his heart.
"I've made up my mind," Madge told Annie later, after Seneca had left. "I'm going to Iceland with you."
"What happened?" Annie asked, sensing something had changed.
"You were right," Madge said simply. "Seneca is gay."
.
ooo
.
Minneapolis – St. Paul International Airport
"Passport?" Hazelle Hawthorne asked.
Gale patted his jacket pocket. "Here."
"Tickets?"
"Yep."
"Phone?"
"Got it." Gale wrapped his arms around his mother and embraced her tightly. "I'll be fine, Ma. I'll call you the second I land."
"Okay." Hazelle put her hands on either side of Gale's head and pulled it down so she could kiss his forehead. "Be safe."
"Bring me back a drinking horn," Rory said, after the two brothers had performed an awkward dance ending in a half-hug. "Preferably stolen, for the full Viking experience."
"Rory," their mother said in disapproval.
"Bring me back a hot Icelandic boy," Posy, all of thirteen years old, piped up. "I hear there are lots."
Gale scowled even as he leaned down and gave his little sister a hug. "Absolutely not." He paused, and sniffed her hair. "That's weird. How come you smell like a baby again?"
Posy gave him a strange look. "You're just imagining things, Gale."
Eighteen-year-old Vick had his backpack on the floor and was frantically digging through it. Finally, he found what he was looking for, and held it up in triumph. "I got this for you."
"Thanks, Vick," Gale said, touched, as he accepted the battered, leather-bound book.
Vick pushed his glasses up his nose. "I found it at a secondhand store," he said, tapping the cover. Sægeirrs saga, it said. "It's about a Viking who moves to the Iceland settlement from continental Europe. I thought it would be a nice thing to read on the plane." The youngest Hawthorne son was the biggest bookworm in the family.
Of course Gale was going to read it—eventually—but he didn't have the heart to tell Vick that he would most likely spend all his waking hours on the flight watching as many action films as he could find, preferably ones with as little plot as possible. The closest thing to a Viking history lesson that he was going to get was Marvel's Thor. Or maybe not; he doubted he could watch two hours of a petite brunette like Natalie Portman without thinking of Katniss.
Bristel had come to send him off, too, and unlike Rory he knew exactly what kind of hug he was going for: starting out as a firm handshake, then bringing their clasped hands to chest level while leaning forward and bumping shoulders. "Gotta admit, I'm jealous. You and Thom in Norway together—that'll be one for the ages. You guys always leave me behind."
"If I get the job, you can visit me in Sweden any time," Gale told him. "We'll have real adventures while Thom chases after blondes."
Bristel laughed. "I'll hold you to that."
Finally, Gale came to the end of the line: the last, but certainly not the least, person in his small army of well-wishers.
"Dad," he said, a lump suddenly forming in his throat. "I'll miss you guys. I wish I could bring you all with me."
Edward Hawthorne engulfed his eldest son in a bear hug. "Don't worry about us," he reassured him, ruffling Gale's hair as if he were a little boy again. "Don't let us hold you back."
"You're not holding me back," Gale protested.
Edward smiled. "If you say so."
And then they were all crowded around him, their arms around each other's shoulders for one last group hug before Gale disappeared into the terminal.
"We love you, Gale."
"Put photos on Facebook or Instagram or something."
"He doesn't have any of those things, Pose."
"I swear, Gale, you're so medieval."
"Remember, if they start getting hostile, say you're Canadian."
Edward stepped back and looked at his firstborn with a proud but wistful expression, as if he were seeing the boy Gale used to be, side by side with the man he had become. "We've always known you were special," he said, and Gale knew his father meant every word. "Now it's time for you to show the world."
.
ooo
.
Business class was nice.
Gale could stretch his legs out, for once. That was the number one most important thing for a guy his size. And with wider seats and armrests actually worth a damn, he didn't have to constantly worry about poking someone's eyes out with his elbows.
Plus, he had free WiFi. Not that he needed it—the idea of being completely off the grid for a while was very, very appealing—but if he had to, he could email Thom or get him on Skype, try to get an actual itinerary going for his visit.
Even without WiFi, the in-flight entertainment looked promising, and it was definitely the biggest screen Gale had ever seen stuck to the back of a plane seat. Sorry, Vick. I'll read that book some other time.
The only drawback was that, as big as the seats were, they were still arranged side by side in standard rows, not at an angle to each other and walled off cubicle-style like the newer planes apparently had. All the leg room in the world wasn't going to make up for it, if he ended up sitting next to someone who made his life miserable for the better part of a day. He mentally crossed his fingers as he watched the plane fill up, cheering inwardly each time someone walked past his row.
Gale breathed a sigh of relief as the cabin door closed, the seat next to him still empty. Privacy, he thought to himself. Sweet, sweet leg room and privacy. I could get used to business class.
But his relief was short-lived, as a familiar-looking man who had bypassed Gale's row just moments ago backpedaled and stuffed his enormous hiking pack into the overhead compartment right above Gale.
To make matters worse, when the man finally slid into the seat next to Gale, he turned around and stuck his hand out in Gale's face. "How's it going?" the undeniably attractive and unflaggingly cheerful man said in a distinctive Australian accent. "Looks like we're going to be stuck together for a while. The name's—"
"Finnick Odair," Gale finished for him, accepting the handshake. "The pro surfer." Not to mention model, playboy, entrepreneur, and who knew what else. He wondered if he should get an autograph for Posy. He wondered if he should get an autograph for his mother. Quick, how did you take selfies again?
"Call me Finn." His grin grew even wider, if that were even possible, making his dimples deepen in his cheeks. It was almost enough to make Gale question his sexuality. "And you are?"
"Gale," he said. "Gale Hawthorne."
.
ooo
.
After the initial starstruck feeling wore off five, maybe ten minutes later, Gale's eyes started to glaze over while Finn continued to chatter nonstop.
"Nice name, Hawthorne," Finn complimented him. "That's the name of the suburb where I grew up in Melbourne. It's the name of the footy club I support, too—the Hawthorn Hawks. We lost to Sydney in 2012, but last year we won the premiership, and this year I reckon we're the one to beat."
Finn took Gale's silence as an opportunity to launch into a long, detailed explanation of Australian rules football, which as far as Gale could tell was just rugby in a sleeveless shirt. But Gale played along, nodding whenever it seemed appropriate. In time, though, the smile pasted on his face started to slide off. Oh god, make him stop.
"So, Iceland," Finn said, finally changing the subject. "Why Iceland?"
"I have a job interview," Gale responded, slightly surprised that he still had the power of speech. "I'm an engineer."
"Ah, a brainy one." Finn nodded sagely. "Never was good at maths myself. I dropped out of uni when I turned pro."
"And you?" Gale asked, despite himself. "Why are you going to Iceland?"
"My company"—Finn pointed at his shirt, which had the word AEGIR and a stylized drawing of a wave on it—"we're branching out into cold water surfing. It's a small market at the moment, but we're foreseeing heaps of growth. It's like the final frontier in surfing. Anyway, I just came from meetings with suppliers in Minneapolis, and we're doing a photo shoot with our new 6mm insulated wetsuits all around the Iceland coast. You should come along if you're free. Do you model?"
Gale was flattered. After getting brutally dumped by Katniss, it was nice to be noticed by someone who looked good for a living. "No, I should probably stick to engineering. But thanks."
"Give it a go. You won't know until you try."
The next thing Gale knew, Finn had pulled out his phone and started swiping through his photos. "Here's the first time I tried surfing in Iceland. Check out all that ice on the shore. And look—the sand is black, from the volcanic activity. Isn't that awesome?"
Gale had to admit the scenery was breathtaking. But when Finn accidentally swiped past his Iceland photos, Gale caught a glimpse of something even more intriguing. "Who's that?" he asked, stopping Finn mid-swipe to point out a dark-haired girl whose lovely face jumped out at him from the screen.
For once, Finn fell silent, running a hand through his shock of bronze hair in an almost bashful gesture. "A girl I met a few years ago," he answered, his face suddenly serious. "An American, like you. She was doing her master's degree in Queensland at the time. Marine biology."
"She must be pretty special, if you kept her photo all these years."
"I don't even know where she is now," Finn admitted. "She's not exactly easy to find. Probably just as well. She's wicked smart. At first, I never knew what to say to her. Still, I always wonder what could've been, you know? You ever feel that way about a girl?"
Gale let out a short laugh. "It's a long story."
Finn chuckled. "I think you can manage to fit it into six hours, yeah?"
"Maybe." As a rule, Gale didn't like to talk about relationships to anyone, much less a near stranger. But there was something about Finnick Odair that made Gale want to tell him his secrets.
Finn rang for a flight attendant. "I reckon this is the kind of story that needs to be shared over a beer."
A beer was just what Gale needed. "My sentiments exactly."
Finn grinned. "I have a feeling, Gale Hawthorne, that this is the start of a particularly epic friendship."