A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful feedback for the previous chapter. It really made me happy that, for the most part, many of you trust my vision for this story :) Be kind and keep the reviews coming and Chapter 11 might go up next week as well ;) Thanks as always to my wonderful betas WickedlyClever and Court81981 because this story would not be the same without your guidance and support.
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I'm already four shots deep by the time I get to the bar with Delly.
The first thing we do when we get there is order drinks.
Perfect.
I don't want to remember anything about tonight. I want to drown my sorrows with alcohol.
Finnick and Annie hug me when we see them. I guess Delly already told them.
I found out yesterday that my dad's surgery was unsuccessful. That his tumor had almost doubled in size. That it had spread to his pancreas. That the only thing they could fucking do was close him right back up.
I avoid any questions. I avoid their eyes. I don't want to see the pity there.
My heart has been ripped out. I feel nothing.
And the one person who could make me feel better, the one person who could fix this, doesn't want me.
I guess that's what I get though, right?
That's what I get for falling in love with a girl who has already given her heart to another.
I feel like such a complete tool, letting it get this far. What the hell did I think was going to happen? That she would just ditch this guy she's been dating this whole time and throw it all out on the line for me?
Part of me wants to be mad at her.
I want to be mad at her for making me fall in love with her so easily.
I want to be mad at her for not choosing me.
But I'm not, because I can't.
I can't feel anything for her except overwhelming desire and it's infuriating.
I've knocked back 3 drinks already when I see her.
Katie.
That girl from the gym who gave me head in the bathroom a few months ago.
She meets my eye and winks.
Fuck.
I walk straight over to her and pull her away from her group of friends.
"Hey stranger," she says with a playful smirk. "You never called."
"I work a lot," I tell her, which is partially true. "I've been celibate."
"That's no fun," she laughs.
"Come here," I pull her over to the corner of the room, up against the wall near the speaker. It doesn't exactly provide a whole lot of privacy, but at this point I could care less.
I grab her face with both my hands and kiss her.
I kiss her to forget.
I kiss her to try and feel something.
I kiss her because when the one person you want more than anything tells you they don't want you it's nice to feel desired.
We finally break away and I close my eyes as she starts kissing my neck.
"We could go back to my place," she breathes against my skin.
I imagine going back to her apartment and fucking her senseless, losing myself in the temporary physical pleasure she could provide.
But then I imagine how I would feel after.
I realize it doesn't matter what I do with this girl, it's not going to make me forget how I feel about the one who has my heart.
I grab her by the shoulders and push her away from me.
She looks at me confused, but I just shake my head.
"I can't," I tell her and I don't wait for a response.
Instead I find myself running to the bathroom, where I empty the contents of my stomach, hunched over the toilet.
This night could not get any worse.
I am the most hungover I have ever been in my life.
I feel sick.
I feel nauseous.
My head is pounding and I wish more than anything that all I have to deal with is the physical repercussions of my heavy drinking the night before and the shame and guilt I feel for hooking up with a girl who means less than nothing to me.
I feel dumb for trying to drink my problems away and disgusted for letting someone get so physically close to me when my heart and mind so clearly belong to another.
Unfortunately those are not the only things I have to worry about.
The feel of absolute dread, the feel of pain and anguish and fear and sadness sweeps over me all at once as I realize that things will not get better for my dad. That there is only one way his story is going to end.
I have already lost Katniss days earlier and now this.
I'm not sure how much I can take.
The only good thing is that the doctors are releasing my father from the hospital and ending care. My dad is over the moon about it, he is sick of staying in that hospital bed.
They said he should spend what time he has left at home.
They said I should contact hospice sooner rather than later.
I stay in bed for a long time, as if somehow not getting out of bed to face the world will stop the inevitable from coming.
It doesn't work.
A few days later and I still feel the sickening feeling in my stomach when I remember about my dad, about how he doesn't have a lot of time left.
My eyes are constantly burning with tears, but I hold them back.
There is one good thing I have left to look forward to.
I have a one on one session with Katniss today. I haven't seen her since last week when she told me that we should keep things professional, but I don't care.
That memory still stings, but I know just seeing her will ease the pain a little, just being around her will make me feel a little better. And right now that's all I can ask for.
"Come in," I say when I hear a knock on my office door.
I look up and I'm surprised when Katniss walks through the door.
She never knocks anymore.
"Hey," I say with a smile, hoping to sound friendly and normal. I don't want her to think that I care about her any less just because our relationship is strictly professional now.
"Hi," she says quietly, not meeting my eyes.
She moves over and sits on the couch, placing her purse down beside her. She folds her hands neatly in her lap and stares down at them.
"Umm...how are you doing?" I ask, trying to gauge her mood.
"Fine," she responds simply, dusting invisible dirt off her skirt.
"Oh, okay...good," I reply, wondering what's wrong. She still hasn't looked me in the eye yet.
"Have you talked to Prim lately?" I ask, hoping the topic of her sister will get her to relax a little.
"I talk to her almost every day," she replies curtly.
I study her for a moment wondering where this change in her attitude is suddenly coming from. She's even more distant then she was at the last session. The one where she told me that we had to keep things 'professional'.
And maybe I'm imagining it, but she almost seems...annoyed...even mad at me.
"I have to leave early today," she informs me, a cool, detached edge to her voice.
"Oh? What for?" I ask before I can think twice.
"I just do," she responds, finally lifting her gaze to meet my eyes. I feel my chest tighten when I see the anger and pain in her eyes.
I'm at a loss as to what to do or say. I've never seen this side of Katniss before, calm and composed, but right below the surface a boiling pot of anger and fury all directed at me. I search my brain for why she could possibly be upset with me, but I come up with nothing.
"Umm..." I hesitate, not sure if going down this road will only make things worse. "Katniss...can I ask what's wrong?"
"Nothing!" She snaps at me and her voice is so harsh and her tone so unexpected I literally flinch, drawing back as if she's just slapped me.
"Nothing is wrong, okay?"
She looks at me for a moment and I think I see tears swimming in her eyes before she quickly blinks them away.
When she turns away from me, I can see she has to take deep breaths to calm down.
I know she said that we need to keep things professional between us. And even though I didn't want that, I understood it. I decided to respect her wishes and be nothing but her grief counselor from now on.
But even last time when she told me that our personal relationship couldn't continue there was kindness and a hint of sadness in her eyes. She was gentle and seemed to almost regret what she was saying.
She was never angry like this.
"Okay..." I finally say after a while, "So what would you like to talk about today then?" I ask her, hoping that she will stop reverting back to her old habits, shutting me out and refusing to talk about what she feels.
"I don't want to talk about anything," she says stubbornly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Why not?" I challenge.
"I just don't!" She snaps and she's close to tears again. This time a few fall and she hastily wipes them away.
My heart feels like it's being squeezed to the point of pain seeing her like this, knowing on some instinctual level that I'm at the root of whatever is going on here.
The only thing I can think of that changed between our visit to Prim that almost ended with us making out to her sudden fury at me now is the last session we had where she told me we had to keep things professional.
A thought suddenly goes through me that makes me both elated and disheartened all at once. I wonder if maybe she wasn't as sure or confident in the decision to end our personal relationship as she tried to come across. I wonder if she regrets not being able to explore what could be between us as well.
A jolt of excitement goes through me at the idea that she maybe does care about me more than I might think, that she maybe does feel what's between us, that she wants it as desperately as I do.
But she's made it abundantly clear that she's going to fight it. That whatever we might have she doesn't want to take the risk of exploring the possibilities. That she is going to stick with the promises she's already made. That she has no intention of ending what she already has, what is already proven and safe and reliable.
"God, I don't even know why I came today," she says, shaking her head slightly.
She grabs her bag and moves to stand up from the couch.
But something inside me snaps. She doesn't just get to walk away. She doesn't just get to leave me hanging like this when all I've done is respect her wishes.
"You chose him."
The words stop her dead in her tracks, her hand hovering over the door knob of my office door.
I stand up and come over to stand behind her.
"You chose Gale. And I respect that. But you chose him..." The words come out in a rush, my heart taking over despite my mind protesting that I shouldn't say this. "If anyone should be hurt here it's me."
She turns around and faces me, her eyes searching me as I study the despair etched into her lovely features.
"You're right, I did," she says so quietly I have to lean forward to hear her. "Goodbye, Peeta."
And when she turns and walks away, the door slamming shut heavily behind her it feels like much more than just a casual goodbye.
It feels like the end of something that almost was, but never will be.
"How are you feeling, Dad?"
A few days later I am finally getting my dad set up back in his house. I've brought a bunch of my clothes and things over so I can stay in the guest bedroom for a while. For however long he needs me to.
He's currently in his old master bedroom, the TV on and a bowl of ice cream in front of him.
And the one thing that makes this bearable instead of excruciating, the one thing that keeps me from breaking down because God do I want to, is the fact that for the first time in months my dad is happy.
He's over the moon about being out of the hospital. Even though it means his cancer is past the point of help, even though it means his days are numbered.
"Great," he shoots me a grin and takes a bite of his ice cream.
He certainly hasn't lost any of his spirit despite all he's been through. He took the news about his unsuccessful surgery like it was just a minor inconvenience. He could barely hold back his glee when the doctors told him they were releasing him from the hospital.
But despite his positive outlook, despite the fact he is certainly happy and okay with all this, he is getting weaker everyday.
I see it when he struggles to feed himself.
I see it as his skin starts to show a hint of yellow.
"Do you want your pain pills now?"
"Not yet," he returns with a half smile, half grimace. "There will be time for that later I'm sure. For now I want to stay as lucid as possible."
My stomach turns painfully. I don't understand how he can be so calm about this. Every time he talks about his condition or the painful days ahead with such nonchalance I come close to ripping my hair out.
Part of me wants to scream and cry and just lose it any time I think about the inevitable, but I know I can't. I know I have to be strong because he's going to be strong and the last thing I want is for the time I have left with my dad to be full of sadness. I don't want my dad's final memories of me to be breaking down by his bedside and weeping uncontrollably.
He must see what I'm thinking. He's always been able to read me so easily.
He pats the spot on the bed next to him.
I sit down and he reaches out and grabs my hand.
"Peeta..."
I can't look at him. If I look at him I'm going to break down.
"Peeta.." he says again more gently.
The tears are starting to sting my eyes.
"Look at me son," he asks softly and I know I have no choice now.
When I look up at him he has a sad smile on his face. He brings my hand to his lips where he kisses the back of it.
"For a grief counselor you're handling this horribly," he teases.
I laugh, an unexpected real chuckle that makes me feel better for a small moment.
"We can't worry about what we can't control, right?" He asks and I nod feebly in response. "All I want to do is enjoy the time I have left, okay?"
"Okay," I agree sitting up to place a kiss on his forehead.
"I'll let you get some rest," I tell him before quietly exiting his room.
When I walk down the hall towards the living room I hear the whispered conversation of my friends.
"Hey man," Finnick says when he notices my presence.
He and Annie are curled up on the couch sitting across from Delly on the leather recliner.
"How's your dad?" Delly asks, getting up to come stand beside me.
"Alright," I respond with a shrug. I don't really want to talk about this. As much as I appreciate their support I'm just not ready to deal with what I'm going through yet.
Annie gets off the couch and comes over and gives me a hug.
"We're here for you man," Finnick says, standing up to join her and then putting his hand on my shoulder.
"I know...thanks guys."
"What can we do for you Peeta?" Annie asks, her eyes filled with concern.
I lean against the arm rest of the couch, running a hand through my hair before crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Just being here is enough, really," I tell them honestly.
"This week has been hell," I admit. It seems like everything has been going against me lately.
"Yeah, I was going to ask you about that..." Delly speaks up, eyeing me carefully. "I kind of got the feeling it was about more than just your dad."
I flush a little and look away, hating that Katniss' affect on me is that obvious.
"Yeah..." Finnick speaks up, "I got that too. It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain dark-haired, grey-eyed girl you happen to talk a lot about, would it?"
Damn It.
"Umm..." I avoid their gazes and stare at the ground.
"Don't be shy," Annie speaks up, surprising me. "We all kind of figured out that you like her," she says with a kind smile.
I look away, feeling awkward talking about this. I'm suddenly really self-conscious about what my friends actually think about me falling for Katniss.
"It's just hard because I know there are these other factors to consider, these things that neither one of us can just take lightly. She has a boyfriend. I'm her grief counselor. It's just sucks..." I trail off lamely.
"I feel you man," Finnick says, slapping me on the shoulder. "It must be torture wanting a girl who has a boyfriend. I don't think I would have been able to handle it half as well as you are if Annie had been taken when we met."
Annie rolls her eyes a little, but chuckles lightly. "You're doing the right thing by respecting the fact she's already with someone though, Peeta," she tells me. "I'm sure it's hard, but all you can do right now is to continue to be her friend and support her."
"Yeah, I don't know about that," I respond weakly. "We're not exactly on the best terms right now."
"What happened?" Delly asks.
I shrug, unsure at first how much I want to say, how much I want to tell them.
"She made it clear she wants to just keep things professional. And then at our last session together she basically stormed out of the room."
They're all quiet for a moment, not saying anything as they process what I told them.
The longer the silence stretches on, the worse I feel.
Finally, Annie speaks up.
"Peeta if you guys felt something for each other then I promise you it didn't just go away overnight for her. She pushed you away because she felt that's what she had to do given the situation, the fact she's already with someone. And if she's acting out now that's probably her frustration with the situation as a whole, not you."
I consider what she says, chewing over the words and realizing that she actually makes a lot of sense. It makes me feel better for the moment and I'm hit with that familiar feeling of gratitude and affection for Annie's presence in my life now.
"You've sure come a long way since that first group session," I tell her kindly, hoping she knows how proud I am of her, how much it inspires me to see the progress she's made.
I see a hint of blush color her cheeks as she looks away for a moment and tries to hold back her smile. "Well, I think I have you to thank for that," she tells me.
Finnick clears his throat loudly and obnoxiously.
Annie bursts into laughter and stands up to rejoin him. She throws her arms around his neck and gives him a quick kiss on the lips. "I guess you helped a little too," she says softly as if she meant the words only for him and forgot about the rest of us in the room.
"Annie's right," Delly speaks up. "Don't get too down about it. If anything she's going through the same struggle as you right now. She's trying to work through her feelings for you while dealing with the guilt she probably feels considering she's already in a relationship."
I feel a little of the pressure ease off my chest and know that just being around my friends, hearing them talk me through what I'm currently dealing with has made a world of difference. I shoot Delly an appreciative smile and throw my arm around her shoulders.
"Thanks guys."
"Anytime," Finnick answers for everyone, making the girls laugh. "But I think that while your dad rests we should get out of here for a little bit and get something to eat. Get your mind off your lady troubles and you know, your general life troubles."
I can't help but chuckle a little. "Okay, let's go," I agree, grabbing my jacket off the back of the couch and feeling like some time with friends is exactly what I need right now.
When we get back from eating I'm feeling better than I have since I found out that my dad's surgery was unsuccessful. Being with my friends was exactly what I needed. I needed to be around Delly's constant sarcasm, Annie's sweet disposition, and Finnick's sense of humor. It helped me not forget, but at least not worry as so much, even it for only a little while.
I've just finished giving my dad his pain pills for the night, the really strong ones that knock him out almost instantly, when my cell phone begins to ring.
My heart almost leaps out of my chest when I see the name on the caller ID.
Katniss Everdeen
I take a few deep, calming breaths and try to compose myself a little before I answer.
A thousand possibilities of why she might be calling me right now run through my mind in that small time frame before I pick up. I can't help getting my hopes up, that maybe she's calling to tell me everything I want to hear.
"Hello?"
"Hi Peeta, it's Katniss," she replies, her tone clipped and formal.
My stomach twists painfully when a small part of me realizes that this call won't be going like I want it to.
"Hey! How are you?" I ask eagerly, hoping she can tell how glad I am to hear her voice.
"I was calling with the hope that you could help me out with something," she gets straight to the point, not even bothering with pleasantries.
With every word she speaks that is so cold and distant and not at all like herself I feel her slipping farther and farther away from me. I want to reach out and grab her, hold on until I'm certain that the girl I fell in love with, the one who wanted to kiss me as badly as I wanted to kiss her, doesn't disappear on me forever.
"Umm...okay," I begin a little hesitantly. "What can I help you with?"
She's silent for a moment and I hear her take a deep breath on the other side of the phone.
"I...I was hoping you could transfer me to a different grief counselor."
Anger. Surprise. Despair.
A heavy mix of all of these emotions hit me so hard and so fast it's like a punch to the gut and I literally have to take a moment to catch my breath.
"Um...uhh...why?" I finally manage to gasp out.
I can feel my throat start to tighten and the anguish start to boil dangerously under the surface, making me realize I'm close to breaking down. The thought of ending things with her for good, even our professional relationship is more than I can handle. I haven't realized it until right now how desperately I need her in my life, how she has become like an extension of myself, as integral to my survival and function as my furiously beating heart.
"I just..." She pauses for a moment and I grasp on to the possibility that this is difficult for her as well. "I just think it would be for the best," she says quietly.
"I don't understand," I protest. "Did I do something wrong? Something unprofessional? I thought we've made a lot of progress in the last couple of months."
"I'm thankful for what you've done for me," she explains calmly, her voice back to being even and collected. "I just think it's time for a change."
"Katniss, I don't think this is a good idea," I insist, refusing to just let her walk away from me so easily. "We've already established a rapport and an effective treatment plan for you. Switching at this point could just set you back and not to mention the judge might have questions about you transferring this far into our time together."
She's quiet again and with every passing moment where she doesn't say anything I know that there's going to be no changing her mind. Katniss has decided what she wants to do and I'm not going to stop her from doing it.
"I'm sorry," she replies and it's like a knife twisting in my gut. "I would like to be transferred to a different grief counselor."
I sigh in frustration, feeling like I could scream or cry at any moment.
"Does this have anything to do with-?" I start to ask, wanting to call her on the fact that she's making this decision after her choice to end our friendship, but she stops me almost immediately.
"No!" She says firmly. "This is about what's best for me and I would appreciate it if you respected my wishes," she explains, her tone becoming icy.
"Fine," I huff out in agitation. "I'll text you the name of another good counselor. His name is Marcus Aurelius, he works down at the community center on Main St."
"Thank you," she says and I can barely manage to get out a 'you're welcome' between all my anger and frustration.
When our call ends, I don't know if I'm more angry or upset. The two emotions battle for my attention the rest of the night and I finally fall into a restless sleep.
"Come in."
I push open the door to Haymitch Abernathy's office and I don't try and hide my annoyance as I stomp up to his desk and take a seat across from him.
"Settle down, boy."
I eye him angrily. I used to think it was amusing that he referred to me as 'boy', but now it only pisses me off.
"Don't tell me to settle down," I spit out at him. "I don't know why the hell you demanded I come here today. I told you multiple times that I'm no longer Katniss' grief counselor. She's not my responsibility."
Haymitch eyes me carefully, something that looks close to amusement playing in his eyes. "Yeah, yeah I heard your sob story already," he waves me off. "I don't know what the hell happened between you and sweetheart, but whatever it is I need you to suck it up and forget about it for a little while."
Anger and agitation flare up inside me again and it's hard to keep my composure. "And why the hell do I need to do that?"
"Because whether she gets her sister back or not depends on it," he replies.
His words stop me dead in my tracks and all the rage and annoyance I had been feeling vanishes almost instantly as if it had never been there at all. My mind goes blank and everything that has happened between me and Katniss the past week disappears. I don't think about her pushing me away or how angry and hurt and bitter I've felt because of it. All I can think about is getting Prim back where she belongs. With Katniss.
I swallow back my pride. "What can I do?" I ask sincerely and thankfully Haymitch has the good grace to let my sudden change of heart go unmentioned.
"I'm suppose to have a conference call with the judge reviewing her case this afternoon," he explains. "He mentioned wanting to speak to her grief counselor to get a feel for her mental state, the kind of progress she's made."
I nod my head in understanding. "Of course," I agree. "I'll tell him whatever he wants."
"Perfect," Haymitch replies, picking up his phone. "Let's do this then."
He calls a number written on some papers in front of him and then leans back in his chair as he talks to the judge that he is old friends with.
"I appreciate you pushing this case through for me, Chaff," Haymitch says leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, we were kind of on a time crunch because the lady she's staying with now is moving."
They continue to talk for a few moments and I feel myself getting nervous. Whatever I say here could determine whether or not Katniss gets her sister back, the one thing she wants more than anything in the world. I forget about my own feelings, every ounce of frustration and pain I've felt lately, and just focus on what I need to say to make sure this happens.
"Yeah, I got him right here," Haymitch speaks up, breaking me from my train of thought. "Yeah he saw her for about 3 plus months," he adds.
I swallow nervously and rub my sweating palms against my pants.
"Okay, I'm going to put you on speaker," Haymitch says, pressing a button on the phone base before putting it back down in its cradle.
"Hello Mr. Mellark, it's nice to speak with you," Judge Chaff's voice comes over the speaker loud and clear.
"Thank you, uh you...you too sir," I get out, feeling my face flush when I stumble over the words. I can't mess this up.
"I was hoping to speak to you about a Ms. Katniss Everdeen," he begins, his tone formal, but warm and friendly.
"I'd be glad to," I respond, pushing away my nerves. "What would you like to know?"
He asks me a lot of basic questions about the issues listed in Katniss' file. He asks me what I thought her emotional and mental state were when she started coming to me and what they're like now. He asks me about specific things we dealt with and focused on and what I saw as her greatest improvements. He asks specific things that have to do with her past, whether I think she's abusing alcohol or drugs, whether she is a risk to self harm, and how I think she has processed her parents' sudden and untimely deaths.
They're all pretty basic questions that I would expect in a case like this. It isn't the first time I've dealt with a judge or even lawyers in regards to someone I've been working with. I do my best to clear my mind and answer the questions honestly, focusing on the facts of the matter and nothing else.
It's like my brain is on autopilot and I've completely switched into grief counselor mode. I talk to this judge with a detached, clinical method where I consider his questions and search my mind through the last couple of months to give him the best, most accurate answer. It's like I'm talking about some nameless, faceless girl who's story sounds vaguely familiar.
It's a good approach, I decide after a while, to think about this in terms of the facts of the matter rather than focusing on this being about Katniss and her sister. It keeps me from feeling too much pressure or letting my emotions get in the way.
I think I'm just about done with Judge Chaff's questions, when he takes me completely off guard.
"You're very thorough Mr. Mellark," he tells me and I can't help a small smile as I look up and meet Haymitch's eyes across the desk. He's leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest, watching me with a small smirk. "It's always much easier to deal with grief counselors than psychiatrists and I appreciate your assistance with this case."
"Uh thank you sir," I reply, "I'm glad I can be of some help."
"Oh you've been more than helpful," the older man laughs across the phone. "I was hoping, however, to get a more personal account from you regarding Ms. Everdeen."
I swallow thickly, feeling my heart beat start to pick up just a little.
"Um okay?"
"I would like to hear more about what you've come to learn about what kind of person she is, her character so to speak," he explains. "I always feel I get a better sense for someone when I hear about the personal relationships they've come to form with the people around them."
"Oh...alright," I manage to reply, my mouth suddenly going dry and my stomach tying itself in knots. I feel Haymitch's eyes boring in on me as I try to collect my thoughts and consider what to say.
Now that he's asked me to tell him about my personal relationship with Katniss I flashback to the painful past few occurrences between the pair of us and all the anger and bitterness threatens to make a reemergence. I shut my eyes tightly and will those thoughts away. I can't think about that now. I have to do this for her, I can't screw this up. I have to make sure she gets her sister back.
I let my mind travel back to the time when she started first coming to one on one sessions with me instead, after she got over her initial reluctance and we started to become friends.
I remember her laugh and her smile.
I remember how she would tease me and ask questions no one else ever did.
I remember how for the first time in my life I felt like I had a connection with someone, a connection so real and intense it was just on a different level than the link I've felt with my dad or my friends all my life.
"Katniss is a really good person, sir," I start off, finding it easier to continue when I hold onto those memories. "She loves her sister a lot and she would do anything for her. You couldn't put Primrose in better hands, truly."
When he doesn't say anything right away I decide to keep going, decide that I have to get these words off my chest or I might explode.
"Katniss isn't perfect. She's had to deal with a lot in her life already, but she's strong and she's handled it as best she can. From getting to know her over these past couple of months I can tell you that she never does anything without her whole heart. When she cares about something she gives it everything she has. She can be stubborn and she makes mistakes, but she's caring and giving and she never just thinks about herself."
The words come out in a rush and when I finish I almost feel a buzzing near my ears as my heart pounds away in my chest. The silence in the room and over the phone lingers for a moment and I'm worried for a second that I've done or said too much, that I've crossed a line.
"It seems you feel strongly about Ms. Everdeen," Judge Chaff says over the speaker, with a hint of amusement in his voice and I relax just slightly.
"She's a great person," I admit, ducking my head a little to try and avoid Haymitch's gaze as a flush creeps up my neck. "I really would like to see her get custody of her sister. She deserves it."
"Well, thank you for your honesty and your time, Mr. Mellark," Judge Chaff responds and I let out a sigh of relief that I did it, that I got through it.
Now all I can do is just sit and wait and hope for the best.
Haymitch takes the phone off speaker and talks to Judge Chaff for a moment, telling him thanks and asking when we can expect a decision. In those moments before he hangs up though, in those moments I have to myself to reflect on what just happened, I'm hit with realization and clarity that makes me feel light and free and better than I have in weeks.
I'm irretrievably in love with Katniss Everdeen.
And I'm not ready to give up on her yet.