Rated M for violence and sexual situations. Rest of the notes at end of chapter.
Chapter 1
~Six Years Later~
"Let's get this party started!" Hoots, hollers, and a loud pop startle Katniss Everdeen, and she turns her head to see a stream of champagne spewing from the neck of a ridiculously large magnum bottle. More happy screams and shouts follow, and the cluster of guests gathered around the commotion raise their empty flutes to catch the bubbling liquid.
Katniss sighs and leans forward, her elbows resting on the yacht's railing as she gazes out over the harbor. The sound is peaceful with the water lapping gently at the sides of the dock where they are moored. Smears of pink, lavender and orange streak the twilight sky and melt into the horizon where the sea threatens to swallow the setting sun. It's as picturesque a setting as Katniss can imagine. She should be happier.
She glances over once more to the crowd surrounding her best friend, Gale Hawthorne, and his bride-to-be, Madge Undersee. Their glasses now brim with the sparkling champagne, and the group laughs and chatters without a care in the world. And really, why shouldn't they be carefree and exuberant? The nuptials of Gale and Madge have been much anticipated, and as is usually the case with a wedding—especially a pseudo-destination one like this—it's an excuse to throw caution to the wind for the weekend and take a break from the monotony of real-life commitments.
But not for Katniss. Gale's wedding is nothing more than an obligation for her, one that has raised extreme anxiety in her since she got the phone call and learned of his engagement nearly a year ago. She wishes she could push past her own angst for three days and be the happy, supportive friend Gale deserves. She feels like shit for not being able to do more.
From her solitude on the starboard side of the yacht, Katniss glances towards the stern where most of the bridal party is and carefully scrutinizes the girl who has so wholly captured her best friend's heart. Madge's right arm is linked possessively through Gale's left one, her manicured hand stroking his forearm much the way a doting owner caresses a pet. She's a beautiful girl; no one can deny that. Her honey-blonde hair falls neatly past her shoulders, held back with a pink Chanel headband that probably cost more than Katniss makes in tips in a week. It perfectly matches the pink cocktail dress that clings to Madge's curves in all the right places, sexy without treading into slutty territory. Katniss would bet a week's salary that the strappy silver heels that cover Madge's feet are Jimmy Choos, though she can think of fifteen things she'd rather spend that kind of money on than a glorified pair of sandals.
Something Gale says causes Madge's blonde head to tilt back in laughter, and Katniss can see the adoration shining in her blue eyes even at this distance. Gale smiles down at her, equally adoringly, and presses a chaste kiss to his fiancé's forehead. Katniss sighs again.
She feels so out of place among these people, and she knows it's really no one's fault but her own. She knows most of them; she's been introduced to Madge's sorority sisters on many occasions, and she's hung out with most of Gale's groomsmen at least once or twice—not that she cares for most of them. A few are old high school buddies, two are his roommates from college and one is the boyfriend of Madge's maid of honor.
Katniss had been reluctant to agree to be in the wedding; she knew Madge had asked her to be a bridesmaid to appease Gale. It was a compromise between the two; Gale had actually wanted Katniss as his 'best man'—he had argued it would keep the peace between his brothers, as he wouldn't have to choose between Rory and Vick. But Madge would have no part of anything less than traditional, so she agreed to have Katniss as a bridesmaid instead.
After all that trouble, Katniss had no choice but to say yes.
She likes Madge; she always has. Freshman year of high school she was one of the few girls who even talked to Katniss in the cafeteria. It was only when Katniss started formally dating Peeta that her social circle broadened simply by circumstance. Everyone wanted to be around Peeta, and it made Katniss infinitely more desirable as a result.
"Can you at least fake a smile?" Her head snaps up and sees Gale frowning down at her. "Come on, Catnip. Join the party. Pretend you're happy." He sits down next to her and thrusts a full champagne flute in her hand, clinking it against his own half-empty glass. Katniss smiles wryly at him.
"I am happy for you, Gale. Thrilled. You know that." She takes a tentative sip from the glass, the effervescent bubbles dancing along her tongue.
"So why are you over here moping by yourself?"
"Gale…" she trails off, running her finger along the lip of the glass.
"What is it, Catnip?" She shrugs, gazing vacantly past him. He winds his right arm around her and gives her a reassuring hug when her silence affirms what he suspects. "Madge wouldn't get married any other place. You know that I couldn't fight her on this one. Pick and choose your battles. Some smart ass girl once told me that." He nudges her and grins, then places a hand on her knee, his steely eyes that are so like her own searching her face for recognition. She bites her lip and nods slightly, and his eyes soften. "Hey, I'm sorry. It's going to be okay. We're going to have such a fucking awesome weekend that I won't let the memories get to you."
"I haven't been back there once, Gale. Not once," she confesses. "It's been six years and I haven't been able to bring myself to go back." She closes her eyes as she feels the apprehension that has been simmering below the surface for days begin to swell within her.
"Hey," Gale whispers softly, squeezing her knee affectionately, "it's okay, Kat. Do you even know how much it means to me that you're here? That you are willing to go back, now, for me?"
"Only for you, Gale." She sucks in a breath and manages a smile, his wide grin matching her weak one in return.
"Nothing has changed there, you know," he offers. "It's exactly the same as it was when you left." He pauses. "Well, except your old house is gone." She knows that of course. Her father ordered it razed to the ground a few weeks before the first anniversary.
Katniss shakes her head and downs the remaining champagne in one nervous gulp.
She sighs and stares over at Madge, giggling and conversing with her friends. What would it be like to be so cheerful? So completely and deliriously happy? "It's changed, Gale. She's not there. I mean, she's there, but she's not, you know? And it won't be the same without him."
"Are you talking about your father now or someone else, Katniss?" He raises an eyebrow at her and gives her a knowing look. She coughs and rolls the stem of the empty champagne flute back and forth between her palms.
"My father," she fibs quietly, though they both know that a large part of her anxiety about returning to Panem involves Peeta Mellark and not just the ghosts of her mother's murder. Her heart tightens in her chest at the thought of seeing him again after all these years.
"You can't tell me you're not thinking about Peeta," Gale prods.
"I'm not," she spits defensively. "It's been six years, Gale. I'm sure he moved on years ago, and even if he didn't, I'll definitely be the last person he wants to see. I mean, would you want to be within five feet of the girl who ripped your heart out, stomped on it and left you behind?"
Gale shakes his head and rises, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I'll double check that Madge has him seated more than five feet away from you at the reception."
"I'm sure he hates me," she says quietly, and she cannot control the queasiness that settles in the pit of her stomach when she considers the sweet boy she fell in love with so many years ago—the man who she knows she still loves—could harbor such vitriolic feelings for her now.
"He doesn't hate you," Gale replies, staring down at her.
"I haven't heard a word from him. I've reached out a few times, hoping to at least slowly become friends again. Not a word. Not even 'stop calling me.' Complete and total silence. That sure sounds like hate. And really, I can't blame him if he does."
"Gale!" They both turn and see Madge's pink lips pressed into a polite smile, her eyes indicating his presence at her side is required.
"I'll talk to you later, Catnip. Everything will be fine, I promise. This is going to be a great weekend."
She watches him walk back to his fiancé, who rises onto her tiptoes and catches his lips in a kiss. Katniss sighs, suddenly wishing her champagne flute was full again.
The low bellow of the yacht's horn causes her to jump. It's immediately followed by a loud clinking sound. Madge's father, Mayor Richard Undersee, stands with a full champagne glass in his hand, calling for everyone's attention. Katniss brushes back a stray tendril of hair that has escaped her braid, a casualty of the light breeze that has sprung up off the water, and she walks back to the group. Most of them smile at her, but she struggles to return the sentiment.
"I'd like to make a toast before we cast off," the mayor intones, a broad grin on his weathered face, a clear sign of days spent fishing and golfing in the abundant sunshine. Katniss frowns and looks down at her empty glass. She hides the flute behind her back. Gale catches her eye and winks.
"Oh, Daddy, come on, it's not necessary!" Madge says sweetly, her tone suggesting that in fact, it is necessary and she is going to fully enjoy being the recipient of her father's attention. For a girl who was so quiet and demure in high school, four years away at school and becoming part of a thriving social scene has transformed Madge into a confident woman completely at ease with the spotlight.
"Relax, kitten. I'm saving my best speeches for the wedding," he laughs. Katniss's frown deepens. She hates speeches almost as much as she hates weddings.
Mayor Undersee begins speaking, his adoring gaze flitting repeatedly to his daughter, but Katniss is not listening to anything the older man says. Her mind cannot stop wandering to Peeta Mellark.
Gale had told her Peeta would be at the wedding; he had RSVPed, and Gale had let it slip that he had declined the "plus one" on his invitation. He hadn't elaborated anymore beyond that, but she harbored an unhealthy hope that it meant Peeta was single—as if he'd really give her a second's glance after what she did, or rather, didn't do.
She thinks about that night six years ago—the night she had intended to tell him it was over…
Katniss fidgeted in her seat, bouncing her right knee nervously as she drummed her fingers absently against the window ledge. The streetlamps on the road became intermittently spaced further apart as Peeta navigated the curves and bends in the winding two-lane street that bisected Panem Island. It grew darker as the road neared the edge of the dunes, the point of no return unless you had an off-road vehicle or four-wheel drive and were willing to take your Jeep or SUV out into the sand.
In spite of driving a Jeep that could easily traverse the terrain, Peeta always drove to the left and parked behind the dunes rather than bear to the right and head down to the beach. If they weren't frequenting their little cove, he much preferred the quiet solitude of the darkened flats that hugged the sound side of the island.
Peeta shifted the car into park and idled the engine, cutting the headlights but leaving the radio to play softly in the background. They had playfully argued over the music selection on many occasions; tonight, Katniss was content to let him have his way, so the twangs of the local country music station had been irritating her all evening. He had joked he was just trying to prepare himself for the inevitable onslaught of Tim McGraw and Kenny Chesney that he assumed his roommate would be playing nonstop come fall. Peeta had, much to his mother's chagrin, turned down a partial scholarship to Duke to take a full ride to Tennessee to play football. Katniss remembered the icy look in Grace Mellark's eyes when her youngest son informed her that Duke would just have to wait until med school.
Katniss had known Peeta since they were five; they had been in the same kindergarten class, and she liked to think she knew Peeta better than anyone. He was an open book, easy to read, and just as familiar and comforting. He had sworn to her on numerous occasions that being a pediatrician was all that he wanted. He adored children; she knew that. He was a natural with the boys and girls who visited his father's bakery and deli with their mothers. Yet she couldn't help but wonder if becoming a doctor was Peeta's dream—or Grace's. She had equally high aspirations for both Peeta's elder brothers: Graham, who was six years older than Peeta, was in his second year of law school at Duke, and Dillon was a sophomore at North Carolina State, having recently declared criminal justice as his major. Grace did not know Dillon aspired to be a cop— Peeta had confided in Katniss earlier that summer. Their mother thought Dillon was planning on law school and a career as a prosecutor.
"You seem really lost in thought." Peeta's gentle voice cut into her reverie. She turned to face him, and her heart clenched at the reverence in those wide blue eyes. It was a hazy night, hot and humid, and Peeta had the Jeep's top down and the sides open. In the muted light of the moon, Katniss was struck by the notion that he had never appeared more handsome to her.
She must have quirked her lips or her eyes must have betrayed her with a wanton spark because in a breathless second, Peeta leaned over the console and captured her lips roughly. His mouth moved over hers urgently and expertly as she parted her lips and sucked his tongue inside. A low groan rumbled in his throat as he licked at the roof of her mouth, sweeping back and forth along the ridges languidly. He knew she loved it when he explored her mouth slowly; he knew every inch of her, and while the thought of how familiar he was with her body and its responses to his machinations would usually thrill her, tonight it weighed upon her like a funeral shroud.
"Tell me again why we aren't going to the cove tonight," he mumbled as he dragged his mouth down to the hollow of her throat as his tongue danced over the skin. His hands skimmed up her sides, palming her breasts over the thin, ribbed material of her tank top, and she could not suppress the moan that escaped her lips as his thumbs brought her nipples to taut peaks, straining against the lace of her bra. Ripples of pleasure radiated from the hard buds, coursing down and settling between her legs with an earnest ache.
Dammit, why was he so good at this? It was going to take everything in her power not to let him strip her naked and fuck her into oblivion. She did want him one last time—so badly. But it wasn't right, it wasn't fair to do that with him and then shred his heart to ribbons.
He pulled back, brushing an errant tendril of hair out of her eyes. "You are really out of it. What's wrong? I know these last two weeks have been sheer hell on you, but c'mon, Katniss, you can talk to me. I'm here for you." He pressed a sweet kiss to her lips, his hands stilling on the undersides of her breasts. "Always."
Her stomach twisted painfully at the realization she was about to go through with this. There was a time when all she wanted was Peeta Mellark. And when she realized that he wanted her too, and they crossed the threshold from friends to something more, she had been elated. It had been scary, but she believed Peeta when he had promised her they'd be even better together—friendship was a strong foundation for a good relationship, he had reassured her the night they first made love after the homecoming dance sophomore year, the summer after they had gotten together.
She loved him. She knew she'd always love him. And that was why, she decided, that she had to let him go. Her father had already made the decision to leave Panem Island. Long distance relationships were already trying enough when one-half of them wasn't an emotionally stunted girl with zero aspirations for her future. Her only plans after graduation had been community college. She hadn't known what she wanted to do with her life before her mother's murder, and now things were even murkier to her.
But she was certain about one thing: Peeta deserved better than her. There would be no shortage of girls willing to mend his broken heart at Tennessee.
She closed her eyes and leaned back against her seat, feeling Peeta's fingers begin to draw little circles just above the valley of her breasts. She was edging out onto the precipice, peering over the ledge, waiting for the moment she would jump. She had rehearsed it a hundred times in the bathroom mirror; 'Peeta, this isn't going to work anymore'—that was how she intended to cause the fissure in his heart that would no doubt be a gaping canyon by the time she was done.
"Katniss, talk to me. C'mon," he coaxed gently, his mouth right on her ear, nipping at the lobe affectionately. His tongue darted out to trace the innermost shell of it; the heat of his breath, followed by an exhale of air, left her shuddering.
It was wrong. It was selfish. She knew she would hate herself tomorrow. But she couldn't help it. She needed to be with him one more time. She wanted one more memory of him leaving her breathless and trembling and screaming his name when they came together.
Her eyes flew open and locked on his. She abruptly tugged her tank top over her head, flinging it into the back seat and then her fingers began fumbling with the button on his cargo shorts. She placed her palm flat on his broad chest and pushed him back against his seat before leaning over the console to grope at his crotch. She felt him growing hard against the fabric as she dragged the zipper down carefully.
"Katniss," he whispered, her name a sibilant hiss on his lips. She glanced up at him with hooded eyes, hoping there were no tears glistening at the corners. Snaking her hand inside his open shorts, she reached inside his boxers and urged his cock free. She wrapped one hand around the base and braced her arm against the steering wheel with the other as she lowered her head to take him into the warm, wet heat of her mouth. "Fuck," he moaned, his eyes slipping shut and one hand moving to cup the nape of her neck as she began to bob up and down eagerly...
Katniss shakes the memory from her consciousness. She knows she should stop dwelling on it; she must replay those precious last minutes at least once a day, regret usually supplanting the bittersweet bliss before she can get too lost in it. It would be easier if it weren't still so vivid. How is it that six years later, she can still taste him on her tongue, still feel him moving inside her? Some nights—most nights—she swears she can still smell him on her pillow. She doesn't think she will ever get Peeta Mellark out of her veins.
Mr. Undersee finally stops speaking, and a raucous cheer erupts from the guests aboard the Margaret Rose—named for the mayor's pride and joy, naturally. The horn bleats again and the yacht slowly inches its way away from the slip. Katniss glances down at the foamy wake being churned up by the massive boat's powerful motor; the cresting swells mirror the nausea roiling around in her stomach.
She's going home.
She squints at the water again, her nose wrinkling in confusion as she notices a pinkish tinge to the white-capped waves rushing alongside the yacht. Why would the water be such an unusual hue? She wishes she had paid more attention in biology; she had always enjoyed science, but that class was one she had shared with Peeta, and she spent the better part of her time watching him at work, dissecting fetal pigs or staining slides to make the cells visible under the microscope. He so easily distracted her, even when he wasn't trying. He couldn't control the way his bicep muscles strained when he tried to keep his hand steady above the cavity of the pig's corpse or the way his jeans stretched just so over the curve of his ass when he'd bend over to look through the microscope's eye piece. There were many a day after that class where their mouths had sought each other's desperately, and she had usually been the aggressor.
Still, she figures there is a likely explanation for the crimson color of the water, microorganisms or something. She vaguely remembers there is such a thing. Satisfied with her assumption, she leans against the rail and surveys the wisps of clouds lazily drifting towards the horizon.
So she's not watching the water when the body bobs to the surface. In fact, not a single wedding guest on the yacht notices the bloated corpse that rises, freed from under the weight of the raised anchor.
"You really should have told her," Madge chides Gale as they both study Katniss standing alone by the railing.
He frowns. "She never would have come, Madge. You and I both know that."
She rolls her eyes. "And that was you being a little bit selfish, honey."
"She's my best friend, Madge."
"And you should have told her! Cause it will be so much better for her to find out when she arrives at the cocktail reception tonight and sees him with his girlfriend?"
"She'll be fine. Prim will be there and she'll make sure Katniss is okay."
"And what about Peeta?" Madge asks carefully, brushing her hair behind her ears as a sprightly breeze whistles past.
"What about him? He has someone."
"C'mon, Gale." She winds her arms around his waist, and they find purchase on the small of his back. "You don't think seeing her again is going to be hard on him? You can't just think about Katniss here."
"He hasn't spoken to her in six years, Madge. Not a word. You can't possibly think he has any feelings left for her." He brushes another strand of her hair away from her blue eyes. "I know what she did was wrong, not saying goodbye to him. But we both know why she did it."
Katniss had called him a few days after she and her father and Prim had settled in their new house about thirty miles away from Panem Island, near where Mr. Everdeen had grown up. He had been mildly hurt at first that she hadn't told him they were moving either, so he could only imagine how wounded Peeta must have felt. He listened to her confession for hours, his heart aching for his best friend, wishing he could provide her more comfort as she mourned her second significant loss in less than a month—this one, at her own hands. She knew Peeta would never have left for Tennessee if he knew just how much difficulty she was having coping with her mother's death and the psychological trauma she suffered. He would have insisted on staying by her side, and Katniss loved him too much to let him throw away his future for her. Breaking his heart was the only way to set him free.
Gale had tried to convince her she was wrong, that Peeta loved her and would be devastated without her. But Katniss was stubborn if anything, and she refused to reach out to him no matter how much Gale pleaded with her. She confided that her resolve would have crumbled the second she heard Peeta's gentle voice. It had to be this way.
And by the time she was ready to reach out to him, the cold shoulder had been angled in her direction. Peeta didn't return her texts or phone calls, and not a single one of her letters got a reply.
"She didn't just break his heart, Gale. She obliterated it." Madge moistens her lips and rises up on her toes to kiss her fiancé. "And I know she's your best friend, but I side with Peeta on this one."
"They're both adults, baby. Adults who will be mature enough to put the past behind them for a few days and help us celebrate the start of our life together." He captures her lips soundly and slips his tongue past her teeth, effectively ending the discussion as they get lost in each other.
It's only a twenty-five minute ferry ride across the wide sound from the mainland to Panem Island. The yacht is capable of moving more swiftly, of course, but instead, it travels leisurely, meandering about the water to give the partygoers longer to celebrate. A good majority of the revelers are well on their way to intoxication by the time the boat drops anchor at the small pier behind the sprawling Victorian inn that houses the island's most luxurious hotel (the island's only luxury hotel, truthfully). Almost all the wedding guests are staying at the inn, as the reception is being held in the grand ballroom. The wedding ceremony itself will be held on the beach.
It takes a few minutes to get things situated for disembarkation, but when she makes her way off the boat, a small suitcase and large overnight tote in each hand, the garment bag holding her bridesmaid down draped over the crook of her arm and walks up the path the bisects the neatly manicured lawn, she feels her heart accelerate and her breathing picks up. She's actually on Panem Island again. She half expects the ground to shift and crack and suck her in to an abyss, like her own sign of the apocalypse.
But the inn is the very picture of elegance. Fragrant blooms of hydrangea and crepe myrtle flank the wide staircase leading to the verandah where ornate French doors open at the rear of the building. She climbs the steps and feels a light breeze from the ceiling fans that quietly whirr above her on the porch. A faint trace of citrus and lilac wafts through the air. She shivers instinctively. Her mother always wore a perfume with heavy notes of both those scents.
Pushing the thought of her mother aside, she enters the hotel through the rear doors and walks slowly into the opulent lobby. Her flip-flops slap loudly against the gleaming marble tile as she crosses to the concierge. The woman behind the desk smiles brightly at her when Katniss informs her she's part of the Undersee-Hawthorne wedding party and slides her debit card across the counter. The room is not cheap, and being that she has no one to share it with, she had to pick up two extra shifts at the bookstore on campus to ensure she had enough in her account to cover it. She had tried to sell Prim on the idea of splitting a room with her, but she couldn't blame her sister for choosing her boyfriend over her. She tries not to think about Prim and Rory putting their hotel room to good use.
The woman presses a plastic key into Katniss's palm and explains which way to insert the strip in the door then hands back her debit card. She points to a wide, winding staircase and tells Katniss her room is on the second floor, to the right, all the way at the end of the hallway. The bridal party has the whole wing reserved, she explains. There's a lovely view of the sound, perfect for a romantic night on the balcony, she adds with a wink. After Katniss declines the services of the bellhop, she mounts the stairs and trudges down the corridor to locate her room.
She has to swipe the electronic key twice before the little green light flashes and an audible click releases the lock. Pushing open the door, the overwhelming aroma assaults her senses. An enormous arrangement of pink roses of varying hues blooms from a vase on a small tale in the entryway—Madge loves them, and Katniss assumes the bride has seen to it that all the guest rooms have fresh flowers.
She walks further into the room, which is bigger than she expected it to be. It's awash in soft shades of aqua and coral, and it certainly accomplishes mimicking the serene mood of the seashore. A king-sized bed dominates the wall perpendicular to the sliding glass doors, and a small bureau with a flat-screen television faces the bed. On the comforter, there is a large wicker basket wrapped in cellophane, tied with a pink ribbon and a gift tag shaped like a scallop seashell.
Katniss sets down her luggage and lays the garment bag flat on the bedspread, reaching for the basket and the little tag. Welcome to the beach! Enjoy your stay and thanks for sharing in our happily ever after. Love—and here there was an embossed heart with the initials M & G intertwined inside it.
She smiles halfheartedly. Just like Madge to play up the princess thing to the hilt. Her fingers struggle with the ribbon for a few moments before the ends yield and she can pull them apart. Inside, she spies a host of items from local merchants and some expensive looking creams and bath salts. There's also a bottle of sunscreen and a pair of sunglasses. Madge clearly spared no expense in spoiling her guests, unless perhaps the ostentatious baskets are just for the bridal party. She picks up a bottle of wine—a Pinot Noir from the small vineyard in California where she knows Gale proposed to Madge—and then her eyes land on the twine-tied white box with the familiar lettering. Her throat constricts. She doesn't want to know what's inside, no matter how delicious they might be.
When she moves to pick up the basket and transfer it to the little desk beside the bureau, her fingers make contact with the feathery edges of some kind of paper. Curious, she reaches beneath the basket and feels the distinct texture of newsprint. She tugs on the paper and it comes loose in her hands. As she sets the basket down and glances at the newspaper, a scream dies in her throat and her heart begins to pound.
"No," she whispers, staring at the paper, paralyzed, unable to blink as her eyes bore into the bold, black headline across the yellowing paper: Panem Island Sheriff's Wife Found Murdered
Welcome home, she thinks, swallowing back a wave of bile until she can stumble to the tiny bathroom and expel the contents of her churning stomach into the toilet.
"So how do you think your sister is going to make it through this weekend?"
"What?" Prim glances up from her Kindle and looks across the console of the pickup truck at her boyfriend. Rory gives her a gentle smile and then turns his attention back to the highway, where traffic has slowed to a crawl. The interstate narrows to two lanes just north of the exit for the island, as there is just one way on and one way off the access road that leads to the marina from where the ferries depart. Locals have petitioned the state government for years to build a causeway or a bridge to replace the old one—another means of reaching the island, and a faster one—but every time, their requests are met with harsh resistance from the many marine biologists and scientists who refute the ecosystem will suffer irreparable damage from such disruption.
"Katniss," he replies. "You think she's really going to be okay with being back on the island? I know Gale's worried about her."
Prim sighs and shuts down her Kindle, slipping it into her bag. She stares out the windshield at the rows of cars idling ahead of them, allowing Rory's insinuations to hang between them. She had seen Katniss just two days earlier and asked the same question of her. Her sister had insisted she would be fine.
"Prim?"
"Yeah," she sighs. "I'm with Gale. I'm worried about her."
He reaches over and squeezes her knee reassuringly. "Don't think I don't know that this is going to be hard on you too, babe."
"I've been back to the island many times though," she reminds him. "A few holidays with your family, visits to my mom's grave. Katniss hasn't. This is the first time for her since we left." She shakes her head. "And you know she's a disaster at the prospect of seeing Peeta again."
"Can you blame her?" He flicks the wipers a few times after spraying the windshield with cleaner fluid to clear the plethora of dead bugs stippling the glass. "I mean, if you had run off without a word and sent me a lame note a few days later breaking up with me, I can't say that I'd ever want to see you again."
"Rory!" she says sharply, leaping to her sister's defense. "You know that whole situation was complicated. She wasn't right for weeks after my mother died." Years later, Prim can still so vividly recall how withdrawn and despondent Katniss had been after their mother's murder; Prim shudders at the thought of how horrible it must have been to see their beautiful, kind mother in such a grotesque state. No wonder Katniss refused to stay in the house and suffered from nightmares for months after the Everdeens left Panem.
"I know," Rory replies, his voice soft with apology. "But I'm just saying, Prim, when you love someone as much as Peeta loved Katniss, it must have sucked to be dumped that way. I can see why he might not want to see her."
"She still loves him." She's certain of it. Her sister has seen no one—not one single date—since she broke up with Peeta. Prim knows Katniss sees her self-imposed celibacy as some kind of purgatory, a punishment for hurting Peeta, but she also thinks Katniss is simply terrified of letting anyone else get close to her ever again.
"So it's safe to say she's not bringing a date to the wedding," Rory says dryly, tapping the gas pedal as the traffic begins moving again. "How do you think she's going to react when she finds out Peeta has a girlfriend?"
Prim sighs and contemplates the question. She knows Peeta has been seeing someone; his girlfriend is one of Madge's bridesmaids, and since Katniss is also an attendant, she will be spending the weekend in close proximity to Peeta's girlfriend—and thus, most likely, Peeta. She also knows that Gale told Katniss that Peeta had RSVPed without a guest, and Prim had vehemently argued that he should have told her the truth.
She shrugs. "I told your brother to tell her. Madge told him the same thing. It's going to be on him to deal with the fallout."
Rory laughs. "Better him that us. Katniss can never stay mad at Gale." He bangs his fist against the steering wheel suddenly as he brakes and the car idles again. "Fuck, I always forget how god awful the traffic on this stupid road is."
"If you hadn't had to go to your soccer game, we could have been on the yacht with everyone else," she says, sliding her eyes at him. She knows she's playing with fire, rekindling an argument they had had five times before Rory won and opted not to abandon his indoor soccer team in their semi-final match earlier that afternoon.
But the spark in Rory's pewter eyes is a playful one, and he smirks at her. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"
"Just saying."
His hand jumps across the console and his fingers climb her bare knee, inching closer to the hem of her sundress. "Who had the winning goal?"
"It was lucky," she taunts, pursing her lips at him, stifling a little gasp as his hand slips under her dress.
"Lucky," he rasps. "You know something about getting lucky?"
"Rory!" She stills his hand on her thigh, squirming when he wiggles his fingers and attempts to free it. "What are you doing?" she hisses, levering her body off the seat to peer out the window at the Jeep idling beside them.
"Thanking you for letting me play in my game," he replies huskily.
"There's a shitload of traffic! People are going to see!"
He laughs. "Chill, Prim." He nods at the road ahead of them. "We're almost at the merge, and then it's down to one-lane til the marina and no one will see. And we're higher up than most people. Where's your sense of adventure?" His thumb presses on her clit and rubs lazy circles over the lace of her underwear. She keens softly at the sensation that begins building with each tantalizing revolution of the digit. "Besides," he murmurs, "maybe some of these freaks like to watch."
"Shut up!" She closes her eyes briefly and braces her head against the seat as he pushes the panties aside and swirls his fingers purposefully through the damp heat of her folds. He smirks knowingly as her breath hitches and his thumb finds her clit again. He pushes two fingers inside her, beginning a slow pace with them while his thumb increases its rhythm.
Prim bites her lip and chokes back a moan as her orgasm builds, Rory's fingers curling inside her, probing her front wall gently. She fights to keep her eyes open, fearing that he won't watch the traffic given how intent he seems to be focused on her in the moment.
"Fuck," he mutters as the cars ahead of them begin to move. "C'mon, Prim. Come for me. Hurry." He pumps his fingers faster and rubs her clit more insistently. She looks over at him, her blue eyes hooded and darker than usual. She cries out and her body spasms, her walls pulsing around his fingers before she slumps down in her seat, her chest heaving and her breathing ragged. He smirks as he steps on the gas pedal again, withdrawing his hand from beneath her dress. He sucks her arousal off his fingers and grips the steering wheel.
Prim rummages around in the glove compartment for some tissues, but only finds some napkins from Arby's. They'll have to do, she frowns, as she swabs inside her panties at the evidence of her orgasm. She hardly wants to sit in damp underwear for the remainder of the car ride and the entire trip across on the ferry.
"Maybe I should bring the truck over after all?" he asks her as the marina comes into view. There are a few ferries that will transport cars and trucks across for residents or guests, but not every ferry is equipped for them. Prim and Rory had dismissed the idea of taking his truck for the weekend. They had planned to park it at the marina and just rely on the island's trams and cabs and hope most of the festivities were right at the inn.
She shakes her head. "Not worth it. Besides, I'm sure Gale and Madge have everything taken care of. You know how punctilious she is."
"Careful, Prim. That's your future sister-in-law you're dissing."
"I'm not dissing her. She's just a little type-A, that's all," she huffs, though her stomach does a little somersault at Rory's insinuation that one day, like his brother and his fiancé, they too will be married and then Madge really will be family.
Rory snorts as he parks the truck and hangs a placard from the rearview mirror. "That's the pot calling the kettle black, hon. You're the most detail-oriented person I know."
She crosses her arms across her chest and pouts playfully as he removes their luggage from the cab of the truck and hands her a small duffel bag. They managed to cram most of what they needed into two suitcases and the bag. Prim's dress for the wedding has been hanging in the closet of the Hawthornes' guest room since she bought it a few weeks earlier.
"What the…" Rory trails off as the flash of red and blue emergency lights illuminate the marina. Prim shifts the duffel bag in her hand and swallows hard; the sight always raises panic in her, as do sirens of any kind. She still can't imagine how Katniss managed to pull it together long enough to even give a statement to the police that day. Prim doesn't think she would have been poised enough to do so; when Mrs. Hawthorne had calmly told her the news, she had screamed and cried and carried on for almost an hour before she had worn herself down and passed out, awakening in Posy's bed a few hours later.
"An accident," Prim says, sighing. "There must have been an accident or something."
Rory frowns and gestures to a large van where the slips begin. "I'm guessing whatever it is didn't end well for someone." In big, bold letters on the side of the van are the words 'Panem County Morgue.' Prim shudders. "C'mon. Let's get moving. A ferry should be leaving shortly." He rolls one large suitcase behind him and hoists the other one by its handle, his toned bicep bulging with the weight of the luggage.
"Whoa." An officer steps in front of them and holds up a hand. "You're gonna have to step back, guys. This is a crime scene for the time being." Rory doesn't recognize the cop, but the part of Panem County that lies on the mainland is not under Panem Island's jurisdiction—they have their own force and sheriff.
"Crime scene?" Prim echoes, her pale complexion blanching further. Rory sets down the bag and reaches for his girlfriend's hand.
"We have a ferry to catch," Rory explains, angling his neck to try to see past the cop, but the bustling activity a few yards away is well shielded by the myriad of vehicles.
"No ferries departing just now. Will be about an hour before we can get the next one out. Might as well take it easy for a bit," the cop declares, motioning for them to move aside. Rory curses under his breath.
"What happened?" Prim whispers as they walk slowly towards one of the benches lining the area leading to the docks.
"They found a body in the harbor a few hours ago," a woman in nurse's scrubs pipes up, glancing over at them from her seat at the end of the bench where she's reading on a Kindle or Nook of some sort.
Prim's stomach drops. "A body?"
"That's what I heard," the woman replies, shrugging.
"Was it an accident? Did someone drown?" she probes as Rory squeezes her hand.
"Could have. Big party boat left here earlier with a ton of people on it. A yacht, I think."
Rory nods. "That was my brother's father-in-law's boat. My brother is getting married this weekend on the island. A bunch of guests were with them."
"Well then maybe one of the partygoers had a little too much and fell overboard or something. Who knows. But it looks like we're all waiting for the next ferry for a bit. They'd better finish up soon," she grouses. "I hate paying my sitter overtime."
"This is a bad sign, Rory," Prim whispers as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head.
"It's nothing, Prim. Just inopportune timing. This has nothing to do with your mom."
"I told you I had a horrible feeling last week," she continues. "That weird phone call…"
"That was a crank call, Prim," he admonishes her. "Some stupid fuck who saw last week's paper and decided to mess with you for shits and giggles."
Every year on the anniversary of Lilly Everdeen's murder, the local paper runs a small memoriam column and rehashes the cold case. And every year for days afterwards, Prim is an agitated, skittish, anxious wreck. Just the other day, Prim had answered a call on her cell from an unknown number. At first it was nothing but heavy, labored breathing, and then a robotic voice—as if speaking through one of those distortion devices like in a silly horror movie—had warned her to watch her step unless she wanted to meet the same fate as her mother.
Of course, this anniversary is slightly different for another reason—even he has to acknowledge that. This year, for the first time since the murder, Katniss Everdeen will be back on Panem Island.
He decides not to tell Prim his own morbid premonitions that given the circumstances surrounding this weekend and his brother's wedding celebration, perhaps the body in the harbor is not a coincidence.
Author's Note: To say that I am utterly blown away by the initial response to the prologue is an understatement! Thank you so much for the reviews, the follows and the favorites. I'm thrilled that so many people love murder mysteries and thrillers as much as I do, and I hope this story meets and exceeds your expectations.
This opening chapter was a lot of exposition, so I felt comfortable posting it, but I will likely try to get a large chunk of this written before I post Chapter 2. There are a lot of loose ends to toy with when writing this kind of story, and I also don't want to keep readers waiting long between updates once the murders really start. Most chapters will hover in the 7000-10,000 word range.
THG belongs to Suzanne Collins. Many thanks to ILoveRynMar and streetlightlove for reading and offering their feedback, and additional thanks to Ro Nordmann for her beautiful banner and Jeeno2, IzzySamson and HGRomance for their continued support and friendship.
Finally, if you have not already done so, please check out another great mystery that just started posting here: The Endless In-Between, which is an Everlark/Prim take on The Lovely Bones written by three talented authors: madefrommemories, panem and so-amazing-here. You won't be disappointed.
Thank you for reading.