The days pass, spring inching toward summer, and Peeta and I fall into a quiet routine. Every morning he comes to my house with Greasy Sae. We eat together and do the dishes after she leaves. Sometimes we sit on the porch and have another cup of tea, then he goes home. I walk the snare line every few days and bring home game for Sae. Peeta comes back with her in the afternoons, bringing baked treats for Savannah or breads for Sae to hand out around the District. We finish our dinner and wash the dishes. Every night Peeta asks me if there is anything I need, and when I decline, he says good night and returns to his home.

As I become more comfortable in his presence, I allow myself to talk more and more. Where I might have only shrugged or nodded at first, now I tell him about things I saw in the woods. He tells me about the things he bakes, and sometimes he asks me 'real or not real' questions.

"Real or not real," he asks one evening, "cheese buns are your favorite?"

"Real," I assure him emphatically.

The next morning there are warm cheese buns to go with our breakfast, and I am so excited that I hug him. He freezes, tense during the impulsive hug, but when I pull away he pats my shoulder and smiles.

Peeta is home for a week before I witness one of his episodes. We are doing the evening dishes when he drops a glass. It shatters on the floor, and I notice that he is tense, his knuckles white as they grip the edge of the kitchen counter.

"Leave!" he barks at me.

I back toward the door, but do not leave. I'm rooted in place, and I watch him carefully, hoping that he can shake off the episode before he steps on the broken glass. As I'm watching his face and tense upper body, I hear the heartbreaking crunch of a footstep on glass. I gasp and run for the first aid kit, but when I come back I'm surprised not to see any blood on the floor.

"Peeta?" I ask softly.

He lifts his head, and his eyes are soft, clear and blue. He's back.

"Did I… did I hurt you?" he asks, his voice anguished.

"No, Peeta, but I'm afraid you've hurt yourself stepping on the glass."

I slide a tall stool toward him, and Peeta raises himself onto it, out of the field of broken glass. I grab a broom and quickly sweep up the shards before grabbing the first aid kit and making my way to Peeta's feet. One of his socks is clean, but the other has shards of broken glass imbedded in it. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I prepare myself to see Peeta's injury. I carefully peel off the sock and laugh out loud when I reveal his prosthesis.

I must seem hysterical, laughing with tears streaming down my face. Peeta looks at me strangely before he realizes what happened. Then he joins me laughing.

"I thought your foot was shredded!" I exclaim. "I wasn't sure what we were going to do. I completely forgot that this one is indestructible. I am so glad you stepped on it with that foot!"

"Me too," says Peeta, grinning. "I never thought I would be thankful for my prosthetic foot!"

My hysterical laughter fades, but the tears won't stop. To cover it up, I take Peeta's glass-filled sock to the garbage and begin picking out the pieces of glass, my back turned so he won't see my tears.

"Hey," he reprimands, "don't do that. You might cut yourself."

As he approaches, he catches sight of my tears.

"Katniss," he says in a low voice, "are you ok? Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

I shake my head. I really don't know why I'm crying. The episode scared me a little, but not as much as the fear that Peeta had hurt himself on the glass. I'm just overwhelmed, I guess.

I don't have the words to say, "I'm not afraid of you," but I want Peeta to understand, so I lay my head on his chest. He wraps his arms around me, rubbing my back, and gently kisses me on the forehead.