He wakes me with the sound of my name. My eyes open to daylight brightness. I wonder immediately how late I've slept. I hardly ever sleep past the sunrise, but from the light streaming in through the windows I can tell I'm far beyond the early morning glow. Stirring slowly, I roll over to face him. It's surprising he's still home as the bakery should long be open by this time of day.
The look in Peeta's eyes tells me why he hasn't left. He has questions. Though he kept them to himself last night, he's ready to ask them now. I'm not sure I'm ready to answer them yet. I'm afraid of what I might say, of how he might interpret it. Things have been good between us, better than I imagined possible, and I'm terrified of ruining it. I can picture it crashing down around me while fighting so hard to keep it together.
"Bakery?" I ask, knowing the conversation has to start somewhere and reluctant to start with the glaringly obvious choice.
"Later." His reply is as curt as my question.
Nodding against my pillow, I stifle a sigh. "What Gale said last night-" I start, but he cuts me off.
"I don't want to talk about Gale."
As much as I would love to leave it at that, his words feel like a test. A game, the type of game I hate to play. But I know Gale is all Peeta wants to talk about or he wouldn't still be lying in bed waiting for me to wake. "I don't either," I admit, "but I think it needs to be said."
"What?" he asks, giving himself the advantage and putting me on the spot.
It isn't a contest, I remind myself. Peeta and I aren't contestants fighting against each other. We're on the same side, a team. Sometimes this simple truth is the hardest to remember. So used to looking out for myself, for trying to save myself, it's hard to remember I have someone other than myself or Prim to think about. It's something I'm not sure I'll ever adjust to.
"I meant what I said to him." I hesitate for a moment before continuing. "I don't know how much you heard, what he suggested. But I meant every word. Gale has turned into someone I never thought he could be, someone I don't recognize. And whatever potential there was, it will never be there again." I charge on, not giving Peeta the chance to interrupt. "And even if there was the possibility, I'm happy here. Incredibly happy. I don't want that to change. I don't want us to change."
Peeta is the one who sighs. Punching the pillow into a lumpy ball, he leans back against it. Pressed against the headboard, he looks straight ahead at the open door. He's searching for some kind of response but doesn't seem capable of finding one.
When the silence becomes too much, I break it. "Say something," I beg. I pull the sheet up around me to keep warm as I sit and turn to face him. The air feels seasonally cool for late morning spring.
"What do you want me to say?"
I admit, "I don't know."
Silence stretches between us. It's a tangible weight hovering overhead.
"He loves you." The words pain him to say. They pain me to hear.
"I don't think he does. Gale has always wanted what he doesn't have. Freedom. A life outside of the mines. A life outside of Twelve, separate from his responsibilities to his family."
"You," Peeta adds pointedly.
"Me," I confess. "But he's only ever wanted me when others showed interest first. He likes the challenge and wants what he can't have. But I don't think he loves me. I think he's jealous of you, if anything. That you're able to be the kind of man he isn't."
It feels strange discussing Gale with Peeta. Peeta has brought him up a few times in the past but only briefly and only to hint at reconciliation. Peeta doesn't mind my friendship with Gale. I daresay Gale and Peeta could even be friends had the stars aligned differently. Peeta still tries even now. But the subject of Gale's attraction to me is taboo and for good reason. I don't like to talk about it in general, least of all with Peeta.
"Can we just start over?" I ask. Curling my toes, I stress them until they give a satisfying crack. Stretching my legs out, I roll my neck on my shoulders. I hadn't realized how tense my body was until just now. "Pretend like last night never happened?" I clarify as I slowly ease myself up into a sitting position.
He mauls it over. "I don't think it works that way." My heart sinks with his answer. Though I suppose it was a long shot, I had hoped for some sign that Peeta wishes for the same thing. His answer reveals the opposite.
As I sit up, he does as well. Beginning to stretch himself, he looks over at me with a yawn as he reaches over his head. When his arms come back down, his reaches to run his hand through my hair. Pushing the mess of tangles back, his thumb brushes against my cheek. As I wait with batted breath for him to say something else, I'm struck with the overwhelming feeling of need. I need him to tell me that Gale changes nothing. I need for us to be okay. Though I've come to rely on Peeta since his return to Twelve a year ago, I hadn't until this moment understood just how deep that dependence is. Just the thought of a fracture in our relationship threatens to rip my heart from my chest.
"We don't get to sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. Wishing it away will only make it dwell longer." His hand traces down my arm before resting on the bed next to my side.
"What do we do then?" I ask, acutely aware of the sporadic beating of my heart. My fingers twitch to reach for him and to pull him to me, so he may never go again. I've already lost so much, and I don't think my heart with survive this one. Not after Prim. Not after how long it took us to get to this point.
"We have breakfast," he tells me with a quick rise of his brows and a quirk of a smile. "And then I head to the bakery and you head to the woods."
Pushing the sheets back, he stands. I am left sitting, clutching desperately at the sheets as my eyes bore a hole in his back. Surely that is not all he has to say on the matter. "Peeta," I insist, a temor in my voice as I plead.
He pulls a plain t-shirt on over his head before he turns back to face me. "I trust you, Katniss. As hard as it is sometimes and no matter how jealous I might feel in other times. I trust you. Completely."
I let out a shaky breath, but I sense that he isn't finished yet.
"I just needed to hear you say it," he continues. "That I'm not going to wake up one morning and find you've disappeared. That you ran away in search of a different life."
I stumble through the mass of sheets as I clamber to the edge of the bed. Clumsily getting to my feet, I cross the small distance between us. His skin is warm against my arms as I pull him into me. He hadn't stayed home this morning to pick a fight. He'd been lying there watching me, surprised I hadn't slipped from the bed in the middle of the night to follow Gale. It hurts to think he could even imagine such a thing, and yet I'm selfishly relieved.
"I'm not going anywhere," I promise, my lips pressed against the nape of his neck as I hold him tight.
