Chapter 35: Front Row

An icy blast of air hit my face as we walked out of the Hawthorne house several hours later. I winced and shielded my cheeks from the wind as Peeta opened up the door for me to climb into his truck. He turned the key and let it roar to life, his breaths coming out in little white puffs of air in the December chill.

I felt unsettled and like I had a million questions all at once. Glancing over at him, I saw that he was staring straight forward with his lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He looked as irritated as I felt.

I couldn't fight the feeling that something really odd was up. I wanted to know what it was to put a halt to this tumultuous feeling that had settled back over my life. I felt like our cocoon of holiday closeness had suddenly be popped like a balloon and we were being shoved back into the eye of the storm. I struggled to find my voice.

"Is there something you're not telling me about all this?" I asked.

Gale's behavior tonight had been nothing short of spooky. I didn't know what to think after he and Peeta had their weird little stare down while talking about my memory. What did it all mean? I'd never seen my calm, easygoing husband look so perturbed. The only other time he'd looked that angry was the night Gale crashed our 'first' date at that fancy French restaurant. That night was still fresh in my mind; as terrifying as it had been to see Peeta look like he was going to lurch over the table and punch Gale's lights out, a fight was the last thing my family needed now. With a start, I realized that Peeta truly was my family now. I also realized that I trusted his word over anyone back inside the house.

Peeta cleared his throat and looked straight ahead.

"Gale is your friend…I…don't want to say anything that might complicate that or make you feel like…weird."

I set my jaw and shook my head. "No, Gale is my ex-fiancé and my sister is marrying his brother, Peeta that hardly makes us friends. What aren't you telling me?"

An ugly silence loomed between us as Peeta visibly searched for the right words. "I don't…know anything, Katniss. I just…don't know what to think about that whole situation sometimes. I just really wish Prim wasn't marrying into that family and we could afford to put your mother someplace else. There…I said it," he replied guiltily. I raised an eyebrow and looked over at him again. His own eyebrows were furrowed deep into his forehead and he was gripping the truck's steering wheel with this gloved hands. "Does that make me a bad person that I would want those things? Because I feel terrible about it sometimes. But…that's the truth," he stuttered awkwardly. I could tell my question had flustered him somewhat.

I sighed and shrugged. Peeta wasn't telling me anything aloud that I didn't already want to scream every time I walked into that house. He wasn't alone in wishing these things, certainly not by a long shot. I twisted my hands in my lap as the truck rumbled in place and looked over at him. Shame was laced in his pretty blue eyes after his confession.

"I wish she wasn't marrying him either, but…what can I do?"

Peeta shrugged. "Exactly. Today was so…random. They're odd – that's not just me, right?"

I had to snort. "No, Peeta, that's definitely not just you."

He nodded. "Alright. Good. Because I was really worried when everyone seemed to be happy about Posy's hooker heels."

I barked a laugh and shook my head at my lap. "Right? Hazelle is completely delusional."

Peeta laughed too, his broad shoulders shaking with giggles as the truck's engine finally slowed, signaling that it was ready to go. Peeta shifted it into drive and held his foot on the brake as he looked over at me with a fading smile.

"I'm…I'm sorry I don't make enough money to put your mom someplace else that's as nice as this place," he lamented, his eyes flashing up to the house behind us.

It was difficult to not let the looming mansion's shadow cover every corner of your mind in self doubt.

"Don't be," I sniffed. "Don't be sorry for something you have no control over. My mom is barely forty five Peeta – what if she needs care like this for the rest of her life? We can't afford that. That would drain us of every penny we ever owned and we'd never be able to live. My mom and I weren't that close before but I know she wouldn't want that if she was in her right mind. No one would. And no one blames you; they blame me maybe, but certainly not you."

He sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest before easing up on the break and letting the truck start to roll. I placed my hand on his thigh and gave it a gentle squeeze. His eyes flicked over to mine before pulling out onto the main road.

"I'm just not sure how this is going to be resolved. I still feel like it's my fault."

"It's not," I insisted. Peeta grumbled and shook his head.

"I can't make Prim not marry Rory, but I could take your mother out of there. That would solve half the problem."

"Be realistic."

"I wish I was, that's the issue. I keep scouring my mind for a way to remove their hooks from your poor mother."

"Peeta…"

"I feel like a failure," he insisted.

I sighed and turned to look out the window at the scenery flashed by. Peeta sulked the entire way home, even dragging his feet up the steps to our apartment. He slowly made his way to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, his slumped shoulders and grumpy expression betraying his normally sunny disposition. I could tell that he was genuinely hurt that he couldn't do more to help me separate myself from a family that was clearly toxic. I didn't disagree with him; I couldn't stop Prim, but my mother's situation was highly fixable. I wasn't stupid though; to match the quality of private care she was receiving day after day in the Hawthorne home would take thousands of dollars that we simply didn't have. It was far from Peeta's fault that his comfortable but modest income from his trade wasn't enough to cover the cost. However, I could see from his forlorn expression that it deeply bothered him not to be able to help.

I shrugged out of my coat and walked over to the kitchen area to stand in front of him.

"No pouting," I whispered, shaking my head at him. I scanned his face, noticing a few more winkles in place around his forehead and eyes. I felt like I'd made him worry so much these past few months that I was entirely responsible.

His only response was a halfhearted, crooked smile. "I'm not pouting." He gave me a petulant scowl that made him look boyish.

"Yes, yes you are. You are pouting about something you have no control over Peeta. Please don't let this upset you."

"I just don't want your mother there anymore," he insisted. "It's not good for you to have to go back there and….see him."

I frowned. "Is this about Gale?"

Peeta shrugged and took a dejected sip of his water. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was set in a firm line. "Maybe a little," he growled quietly, refusing to meet my eyes. I stared at him with a bewildered look. Did he really need more convincing that I wanted him and not Gale? I would have thought the choice to be obvious, but it apparently was not.

"You think I still want Gale?"

"No," he spat, shaking his head. He clenched his jaw again, the firm muscle of his cheek rolling slightly. "I just…I hate that he can provide something you need and…I can't," he added quietly. "It's….caveman and primitive of me to want to provide you with something I know but…especially someone as independent as you. But I do. I consider family one of your basic needs and the idea that I can't complete that circle for you bugs me. It bugs me that Gale has more money than he would ever know what to do with but that I'm the one that could actually make you happy with it."

"First of all, you do make me happy. My mother…I wish I could change that but I can't. I rolled my eyes and slid my still chilled hands up his forearms as he leaned against the counter. "This isn't about Gale, or Gale's money. It's not even Gale's money – it's his father's company's money."

"Which Gale will someday own."

"Right-"

"-Doesn't that bother you though?"

"Doesn't what?"

"That much money. He can do anything and I…can't," he repeated. His blue, mournful eyes flicked up to meet mine. "I would do anything to be able to have that much money if it meant I could make you happy and take care of your mom. Anything Katniss."

"I know you would. But I wouldn't want that much money for anything if it meant I had to be with him instead of you, alright? Gale and I didn't work once; I don't need to repeat the experience to know it wouldn't work a second time Peeta – I know it wouldn't. We broke up for a reason, and…I have to trust that it was a good one."

"You're right. I guess I'm just feeling…inferior," he whined, wrinkling his nose.

"It's hard not to feel two inches tall when they're standing on a mountain," I sighed.

"A mountain of dollar bills," he grumbled, shaking his head.

"Yeah, and look what it's done to them," I pointed out. "They're greedy, self-involved, and completely out of touch with reality. Watching them today was like having front row seats to a train wreck reality show. You think they were always like that? No," I scoffed. "Hazelle was like a second mother to me. She used to get me off the school bus when my mother had to go to work and she'd make me Hamburger Helper for dinner without meat because that's all they could afford. They lived in the same crappy house as I grew up in, only theirs was a block away from ours. Rory was a shy little kid who followed me and Gale around like a lost puppy. Gale helped his father chop up an old wooden dresser once just to heat the house during the winter. They couldn't even pay the heating bill."

Peeta looked up in surprise and I nodded. "They weren't always like that," I assured him. "Money changed them, and not for the better."

"I guess it did."

"Right, well…we can't change that. They are who they are and I'm sure there's a reason they're so rich but…"

I paused as an unreadable look crossed Peeta's face. I frowned and watched as it skittered away just as fast as it had appeared. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he muttered. I shifted my weight and looked up at him as he stood against the counter with his thick arms crossed. The thick sinews of muscles stretched and flexed as he remained there with a clenched jaw and hard eyes.

Leaning forward, I placed a timid peck on his unyielding lips. He sighed in frustration against my mouth as his expression softened. "I'm sorry," he hummed, his shoulders slumping a little. I leaned forward again, offering him a crooked smile.

"I don't know why; you have nothing to be sorry for," I promised him. Peeta didn't look convinced. He swallowed roughly and I watched his Adam's apple bob slightly with the movement. I reached forward, cupping his stubbly jaw in my hand as I kissed him again. He slowly responded, his movements still a little guarded.

"I'm not really…"

"Oh, I bet I can change that," I whispered, moving down to lightly nip at his jaw. I heard him suck in a breath of air and hold it as I kissed and sucked my way across his jawline and on down his neck. He was wearing a white V-neck undershirt with a flannel shirt over it that day, allowing my mouth to not break contact with skin until I was in the middle of his chest. I grinned wickedly and pushed the flannel from his arms. Peeta's mouth twitched as he fought a smile and tried to keep up his pouting.

I however had other ideas.

I smirked at him as I pushed the thin fabric of his white undershirt up, scraping my thumbnails across his nipples. I watched a jolt run through him as he jumped slightly as the touch registered with him and made his eyes spark. I watched them dilate and darken in response as I inched my hips forward and pinned him against the counter. I could feel his hardening arousal against my thigh as I held him there against me, rubbing against him suggestively. I could smell his light, familiar scent of baked bread and cinnamon mixed in with his cologne he wore. The smell made me clench my thighs together tightly in response as I let the smell of him flood my senses. I wanted him. To let him know how much I wanted him, I reached down and lightly cupped him through his worn jeans as I pulled my lip into my teeth. A promising hard-on was trapped against his thigh by the garments.

"So you dress left?" I quipped with a laugh.

Peeta guffawed quietly, throwing his head back against the cabinets behind him. I slid my hands down and fumbled with the top button on his worn blue jeans before leaning forward and lightly nipping his jaw. I felt his body tense and recoil slightly as he moved to kiss me on the mouth. I kissed him passionately back as I unzipped his pants and pushed them down. His hands were soon fumbling with my top as I palmed him through his underwear. He was warm and thick and mine. I sighed into his mouth and shook my head as he continued pushing my shirt up.

"No no," I insisted, clucking my tongue at him. "Tonight is about you."

Peeta groaned loudly as I sunk to my knees in front of him. His eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

I gave him a wicked grin and palmed him again through his underwear.

"Touching you," I answered innocently.

"In the kitchen?" he asked incredulously.

"Haven't we done this before?" I asked, pulling down his boxers. His manhood sprung free, welcoming my palm as I gently stroked him. He hissed at the contact, but it was a good noise and not at all in protest of my ministrations.

"You don't want me to stop, do you?"

"What?" he asked, his eyes flying open. I ran my hand up and down his length and held it dangerously close to my mouth. He groaned and could only nod as I gave his length an introductory lick. I felt him twitch against my hand as I took his tip into my mouth and lightly sucked. I'd never done this to Peeta (that I could remember) and was actually looking forward to it. He'd serviced me with his mouth more than once and I was looking forward to returning the favor.

"Oh! It feels too good…I'm not gonna last," he keened, clenching his eyes shut.

"Shhh," I hushed him, placing a kiss on the underside of his tip. He shook with a pleased tremor as I took him into my mouth for a moment and released him. "I told you; tonight is about you."

I gripped his thick base, happy for once that he wasn't impossibly long but instead gifted in girth. I took as much of him into my mouth as I could muster, sucking lightly and moaning in approval. Peeta gripped the counter and banged his head against the cabinets.

I released him with a pop and looked up at him with my best wanton stare. "I want you to feel good, Peeta," I urged. Alright, so I wasn't normally this eager to work his ego at the drop of a hat, but I knew he needed it tonight. Instead of waiting for him to answer, I gripped him tighter and bobbed my head up and down. I worked my way back to his tip, licking it suggestively and meeting his eyes. I lifted my hand up as I worked, my palm sliding over his stomach and abdomen to apply a light pressure. I felt his member twitch in my hand before I took him again.

"Does this feel good?" I purred between passes. My eyes flicked up to meet his again and he could only barely nod. I grinned to myself and gripped his base with both hands as I ran my mouth over him again and again. He was getting close, but I wasn't about to stop.

"Oh Katniss…fuck!" he hissed loudly, gripping the counter. I heard it creak under his grasp but I continued anyway. He moaned loudly as he came, tensing in my hand and banging loudly on the half open cabinet door by his hand.

"Holy shit! Oh, God, I'm-"

"WILL YOU KEEP IT DOWN IN THERE!"

We both froze (well, Peeta as much as he could mid-orgasm) and stared at each other with wide eyes. He exploded into my hand, his warm semen forgotten as I panicked. A banging noise followed the voice on the other side of the wall, followed by a few hard smacks. My eyes widened as I realized who it was that was yelling at us. Haymitch!

"THE LAST FUCKING THING I WANT TO HEAR AT NIGHT IS YOU TWO!" he bellowed. He smacked the wall a few more times. "You hear me?"

"Sorry!" Peeta croaked, already pulling up his boxers. I swatted his thigh from my place on the floor and rolled my eyes. I couldn't fight the giggle that bubbled up through my chest as I realized how silly we were. We had gotten caught by Haymitch! I could hardly think of anything more embarrassing.

He wasn't about to let me forget it either. I opened Abernathy's the next day for the day shift and awkwardly started work as Haymitch sat at the bar and did the schedule and payroll. His eyes flicked up to meet mine and I coughed awkwardly.

"I take it you and Blondie made up," he sniffed, turning his attention back to his books. He shook his empty glass at me, the ice cubes clinking together loudly. I rolled my eyes and gingerly yanked the glass tumbler from his hand.

"We did. Thank you for noticing."

Peeta had helped me clean myself up afterwards, hastily tiptoeing out of the kitchen and up to our bedroom. He'd collapsed on our bed in his boxer briefs and buried his head in the pillows to laugh like a little kid. I'd joined him, eager to help him continue to forget what he'd even been upset about in the first place.

He snorted and sipped his drink. "Wouldn't be the first time. Look kid, I realize you're all young and in love but Jesus, would it kill you to keep it down?"

"Sorry," I offered lamely. "I really am," I added as he glanced at me skeptically. "Believe me, I didn't want my boss to hear me-"

"-hold it right there. Enough, I don't….need a visual," he groaned with a grimace. "Just keep it down, that's all I ask."

"Fine," I agreed, pouring him a fresh drink. It broke my heart to be serving him a double when it was barely noon, but I knew better than to try to help Haymitch limp through a day completely sober. He was an alcoholic but a functioning one.

"How's that memory coming along?" he asked, smacking his lips at the taste of his drink. He looked up at me with a rare, clear eyed gaze.

"Fine I guess. Head doc thinks it's all going to come flying back like magic, but…."

"But you don't think so?"

"I don't know what to think," I admitted. "I don't know what I'll remember and what I've maybe been purposely blocking out."

Haymitch shrugged. "I'd help you if I could kid, but we didn't really talk real personal-like before your accident. I didn't know much about your life other than the fact that you're married to a baker that's too good for you and you don't like to talk about your personal life."

"Screw off," I laughed, flicking my wet hands at him. He blinked and grinned a little. "Fine, fine. But I'm just saying'."

"I know Haymitch, I know. And…we'll try to keep it down from now on."

He shook his head and turned his attention back to his books at the empty bar while I cleaned the classes. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Prim huffed beside me and tossed her iPad onto the ottoman in front of us. We were sitting in the plush side room off the entryway of the house the next day and I was helping her sort through her place cards. We were trying to get the tables somewhat set up for her wedding reception that would take place the day after tomorrow on New Year's Eve. Well, I was trying to organize the place cards.

Prim was busy flipping out over what I'm sure was a minute detail.

"I can't help but notice that something's wrong," I muttered as she flipped her hair angrily. Her blue eyes darted up to mine and she made a face.

"Are you being sarcastic or actually offering to help? I can never tell," she huffed.

"Prim..."

"Rory still hasn't written his vows. The wedding is less than two days away!"

"Relax. Guys always put things like this off."

"Would Peeta?" she questioned.

"Um…well probably not, but that's just how Peeta is," I shrugged. She picked up her phone and gaped at the message displayed on the shiny screen.

"What is it?"

"He wants me to write his vows for him. Typical," she huffed, tossing the phone back down. I frowned and shook my head. No amount of money could be worth a man who didn't even want to write his own wedding vows, but that was just me. My mind struggled to conjure up a memory of my wedding with Peeta, but my stubborn brain didn't want to cooperate.

Yet.

"I'm gonna go try to place these. Will you come out in about twenty minutes and make sure they're alright?"

"Yes," she said softly. I noticed the dejected tone in my little sister's voice and almost asked her about it, but thought better. Prim was stubborn to a fault, insisting she was right until she was completely backed into a corner with no way out. I chewed my lip as I got up and left the room – she was going to be in a corner soon, but it was the kind that came with matching rings and a promised eternity together. Call me crazy, but Prim and Rory's love didn't seem the stuff a happy eternity was made out of.

I walked out of the side room by the front door and paused, still taken aback by the sheer grandness of the entryway of this house. Even though I hated what it stood for it was still magnificent: A skylight shone down on the marble floors, illuminating the double staircase and elaborate Christmas tree that was easily two stories and took my breath away. The white walls gleamed in the bright sunlight, the twinkling lights that lined the banisters only adding to the glory that made up the entryway. The beauty that was this home belonged on the cover of some rich people magazine, not in real life. I ran my hand along the little mirrored table beside me and paused another moment to take it all in.

Then…things started to shift. The strange feeling that came with something eventful returned, making my stomach queasy. I gripped the small table beside me as the all-too familiar dizziness that came with a flashback started. I felt my eyes go fuzzy as the brief flash of memory assaulted my senses.

I was standing in the entry way of the newly renovated mansion. Gale and I used to ride our bikes past this neighborhood when we were kids. To think that he was actually living in the old, newly restored house was something out of our wildest dreams. It was like Gale and his family had won the lottery…every year for the rest of their lives. They suddenly had more money than they knew what to do with.

Gale walked through the door off to the side and grinned at me. "It's something, isn't it?" He held his hands out from his sides and spun around once in a happy circle. His smile was so big it threatened to stretch his face.

I nodded, my mouth still hanging slightly open as I took in the staggering height of the elaborate entry way of the new Hawthorne home. It was unlike anything my feeble imagination could have conjured up for the inside of the house I'd seen the outside of a thousand times.

"It's amazing," I agreed, running my hand over the smooth glass table at my side. Everything in the house was either reflective, white, or shiny like crystal. It made me feel a burning sense of inadequacy as I stood on the marble floor. My worn, pink Old Navy flip flops were a stark contrast to the floor so clean I could see my reflection. It was more wonderful than I could have ever hoped for, but I knew I didn't belong there. Neither did Gale really, but he was too happy and caught up in all of it to notice.

"This is the future Catnip. We'll have our own home like this someday. Maybe even bigger," he sighed. He grinned again and walked over to me, sweeping me into his arms. It wasn't like him to be so touchy feeley – I wasn't sure how I felt about it. A strange feeling settled over me as I hugged him back and relaxed into his side. The elaborate entryway was still packed with draped furniture and moving boxes, but I could tell that Hazelle would take over and turn this blank slate into something magnificent. But I couldn't help but wonder: was it a little too much too soon? Everything was suddenly moving a million miles an hour. After my father's funeral, Hawthorne Industries had nearly quadrupled its scope and value. Stock prices were through the roof and climbing – Gale's work salary had so many zeros at the end of it now that it made my head spin.

"Does this help?" he asked softly.

"Help?"

He nodded. "I know you miss your dad. Does this help make up for it?"

I frowned at his odd selection of words. "Make up for what?"

Gale's perfect smile faltered for a split second before he regained his composure. "Well…I-I know you miss him is all. I wanted something to make you happy. I want you to move in with me. Here."

"Here?"

"Here."

Instead of answering, I simply hugged him back and tried to hide the strange feeling that had settled over me. Something wasn't right.

The newly regained memory began to fade as my hand stilled on the same smooth little table in the entry way of the Hawthorne mansion. I was standing in the same place as I was in the memory, touching the same table and staring forward. I blinked and looked around, the boxes and draped furniture gone from the scene but still fresh in my mind. It seemed as though I had gained back an important memory – but of what?

Shady, shady shit, that's what. LOL. Oh Katniss, when will you ever learn? Answers coming up soon! And Prim's wedding...ah!

Please review and let me know what you thought - I love hearing your theories! : )

Have a great weekend and more soon my lovelies : )