Three more months pass and not much changes except the color of the leaves. Peeta bakes and I hunt. Haymitch has started raising geese. My mother calls occasionally, but mostly to tell me she still can't visit. I think she just doesn't want to come back. I spend every night on my couch, still too scared to face my bedroom alone. Every morning when I wake up Peeta is in the armchair staring at me and today is no different.
"Morning." I mumble, brushing my hair back off my face.
"Good morning. Did you have nightmares?"
"Yeah…Are you okay?" Peeta is curling and uncurling his fingers, looking a little unstable.
"I have news. I'm just not sure how to tell you."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, a few months ago when you got so upset about Finnick I started doing some digging. I had Haymitch call Plutarch and Plutarch got President Paylor to call me."
I'm holding my breath and gripping the edge of the couch. I don't know what he means and I'm desperate to keep my thoughts in order long enough to find out.
"I asked her if any survivors had been found in the sewage area you blew up. She said a few. I pressed for names and she told me she had only just found out herself. He's in pretty bad condition. They didn't even recognize him at first. About two weeks ago he started talking, but all he could say was 'Annie.'"
My reeling brain screeches to a halt. This isn't possible. Between the mutts, the sewage, and me blowing up the holo Finnick should be dead. He is dead, I correct myself. They've made a mistake. "No." Is all I can manage to say.
"Yes, Katniss, they've been doing a lot of reconstructive surgery and he's even starting to look like himself." Peeta pauses for a while and I think he's giving me time for it to sink in when he says, "You love Finnick, real or not real?"
"Not real, Finnick is my friend. He showed me how to hold it together. I don't love Finnick. Finnick loves Annie and I love you." The words are out of my mouth before my brain ever realized I was going to say them. Peeta sits in a shocked silence with eyes as wide as saucers. Before I can say anything else I bolt out the door and toward the fence.
Twenty feet up in an old oak tree I sit watching the sun slowly move across the sky. Its afternoon and I've almost made up my mind to stay in this tree forever. I would stay here forever except for the fact I have to eat, but facing Peeta and trying to have to explain myself is scarier than starving to death. I don't know why I told him I love him. Have I always loved him and just not admitted it to myself? I've spent half of the day up in this tree trying to figure it all out and have made no progress. I need to go back before he sends a search team after me, but I just can't motivate myself to move. A crunching sound from a few yards away confirms my suspicions. They're going to drag me down from this tree and I'm going to have no choice. I'm surprised when it's just Peeta that comes through the trees.
"I've been looking for you all day." He says, coming to stand directly under my tree.
"Hi." I say sheepishly, not budging from my spot.
"You could make it a lot easier on me and come down here."
I slowly climb down a few branches before turning to say, "But the air is so much nicer up here."
"I have a prosthetic leg, remember? Don't make me climb up there." Peeta says, starting to walk toward the tree.
I climb until I'm sitting on a branch that's just above his head. "Hi." I say again.
"I promise I won't bug you about what you said if you come down here."
I swing both of my legs over the limb and hop down. Peeta throws his arms around me and gives me a huge hug. "I was worried."
I hug him back, letting myself enjoy the steadiness that's come back to his embrace.
"Is Finnick really alive?" I ask as I pull away.
"Yeah, he is. It's a secret, though. They haven't even told Annie yet. As soon as Finnick is healed from all of his surgeries they're going to take him back to Four."
"Is Annie back there already?"
"Yes, and she's about to have a baby."
At first I'm happy for her and Finnick and them I'm shocked. I don't understand how they could bring a child into this world when they've both been in the arena. How could they bring a child into a world so torn and damaged? We won the war, but what if there's another. What if some future Capitol thinks of some new or worse horror than the Hunger Games? These thoughts torture my mind as we walk back through the woods, hand in hand.
"What are you thinking about?" Peeta asks, as we walk by newly constructed shops.
"Not anything happy." I tell him, not really wanting to talk about babies with him when just this morning I said I loved him.
"Katniss, Peeta!" Someone shouts from behind us. We turn to see Thom running toward us with a grin on his face. "Guess which shop we just finished building?"
We both stare at him.
"The bakery, we wanted to know if you would like to run it, Peeta." Thom says, wiping his sweating brow with an old rag.
"Me?" Peeta looks stunned.
"You're the only baker we know. Let us know by the end of the week. We want to get it up and running.
I practically have to drag Peeta back to Victor's Village, he's walking so slowly.
"Are you going to do it?" I ask Peeta.
"I don't think I have a choice." He says, following me up the front steps. "Like he said, I'm the only baker."
"A good one too." I throw myself down on the couch and Peeta joins.
"Do you think you could help me run it?"
"I don't know how to bake anything."
"I can teach you." Peeta says. "It's not hard and I would really like to have you there. With me."
How can I say no to this? And I can't deny that having something to occupy my time other than hunting and checking on Haymitch is an inviting prospect. "Sure. I'll work at the bakery with you."
After a few weeks I've managed to start baking more loaves of bread than I ruin. It turns out to be a lot harder than Peeta said it would be. The ovens are scorching and after hours of beating and mixing batter my arm starts to cramp and ache. Peeta works effortlessly and all of the bread he makes comes out perfectly. I guess I shouldn't be surprised; he's done this his whole life.
One evening after a long day of baking and a lot of orders I throw myself on a pile of flour sacks. Peeta walks over and stares down at me.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm tired." I say, throwing my arm over my eyes.
"We still have to clean up." Peeta says, sitting on one of the sacks by me and brushing away some flour that's settled on my braid.
"Let's take a nap first."
Peeta chuckles and the next thing I know he's kissing me. A hunger builds inside of me and I know that no amount of food will ever fill it. I wrap my arms around him and the pressure of his chest against mine only makes me pull him closer. He pulls away to look at my face, but I don't let go. He kisses me gently on the forehead and stands up, bringing me with him.
"It's really time to clean up."
I groan and head over to the counter where I've been making bread all day. I can't make out my exact feelings about all of this, but I know that I like them. And I'd give anything to be kissing him again.
