We spend our days with the construction crew. We put up the frame for the bakery. We see a lot of Rye, which is great for me but Peeta seems distracted. He gets up early and bakes, brings bread for the crew. Works all day. He takes only enough time to scarf down his lunch and gets back to work again. At night he stares at blue prints and commercial catalogs. He calls vendors about ovens and bakeware. He comes to bed exhausted.

"You need to take a break," I say, rubbing his shoulders as he melts under my hands.

"I will," he promises, but he's up before dawn making cinnamon rolls.

I talk on the phone with Ruth one night while Peeta sketches a floor plan for the shop. The next day I garden with Delly, who has had little success to date. I hand her a bucket of coal ash I collected at the mine.

"What is this for?" she asks as I rake it through the soil. She follows my lead.

"Not too much. You don't want the plants soaking up metal. But just enough to give them something to eat," I answer.

In a week her garden is full of bright green sprouts. She smiles so wide I think her cheeks might break. Maybe she and Rye won't leave after all.

As the bakery takes shape, Peeta's smile comes easier. He's still tired. His hair is a mess. But when he's home he laughs. I'm not even funny, but he smiles and chuckles lightly. He makes hot chocolate on the stovetop. He kisses me with tired, sloppy lips and a half-sided grin.

"Do you think Hazel would work in the bakery?" he asks one night over dinner. He chews his salad as he watches me.

"I don't know," I say honestly.

"I'm going to need someone for the front end. Talking to customers. To help with cleaning, too. Washing the dishes and aprons," he says casually. "Pay'd be good." He sips his water as he tries to read my face. There's an underlying question we're avoiding.

"I can't," I say. I can't work at the bakery. I know it's what he wants. But I can't be inside all day. I can't smile and talk to people. I can't.

He gets up to clear his plate away and when he returns to the table, he leans down and kisses me softly. "I didn't ask you," he whispers in my mouth. "I like when your hair smells like pine and your clothes smell like sweat. You hunt, I bake. That's how it is." He tilts my chair back and kisses me with the steadiness he brings to everything. "What do you think about Hazel?"

"Yeah," I agree, transfixed with his mouth. He smiles against me.

"Good."

It's late by the time Peeta comes upstairs. I'm already in bed, half dozing but too chilled to really fall asleep.

"It's cold tonight," Peeta says, sliding under the covers next to me. "Your skin is freezing," he adds, running his hands quickly up and down my legs to warm them up. For a moment I remember teaching Beetee and Wiress to make a fire. Friction. Heat. But I push the memory away because thinking of Wiress makes me sad and thinking of Beetee makes me angry.

"Can you get me some pajama pants when you brush your teeth?" I ask, my voice hushed in the late night.

"Of course," Peeta says, pulling himself from bed.

"Bottom drawer," I state, and I realize instantly it's a mistake but he's already there. I sit up immediately.

"What's this?" he asks, his voice suddenly serious. He's holding the bundle of letters he wrote me while I was in prison. They're tied together with string in a pretty knot Finnick taught me. I retied it again and again, distracting myself in my cell. Refusing to think about the boy who wrote them. "Are these my letters?"

I don't say anything.

"Are they...? They're not opened," he realizes. The look on his face nearly breaks me. He flips on the light to confirm. "They're not open," he says again in disbelief.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," I start, but he just shoots his hand up as if even the excuse hurts. He stares at the bundle in silence for a long time. When he finally speaks he's nearly shaking.

"You lied to me. You lied to me about your vote. And your plan. And your feelings. You lied to me and I never said anything. You never asked for my forgiveness. You never even said you were sorry! You still haven't. Not even now!" he blurts out. He's furious. I don't think I've ever seen him this angry. "You lied to me. After everything Snow did to me, after I worked so hard to tell what was true from what wasn't, you lied. I trusted you, even though every fiber of my being told me not to, I trusted you to tell me what was real and what wasn't and you took that all away."

"Peeta -"

"Don't!" he interrupts me. He starts pacing like he doesn't know what to do with himself. "I was wrecked when they took you. It destroyed me. And you didn't even have the decency to read what I wrote to you? Dammit, I needed you!"

I stare at him. He looks defeated in a way that makes my stomach feel sick.

"I wasn't looking for an apology. I was worried sick. I could hardly sleep. I just wanted you to acknowledge you were alive. I just wanted you to write me. Even one time! Even a single fucking word would have been enough!" he pants.

"I did give you a word," I stammer, and I immediately regret the words out of my mouth.

"Stop! You told me to stop!" he shouts. The pain emanating from his body is so potent I feel like I'm absorbing it into my skin. It fills the room. "You told me to stop without even knowing what I said! This is just... I deserve better than this." He throws the bundle of letters on the bed.

"I know." I try to say, but the words of agreement are stuck in my throat. I do know. I've said forever he deserves better. That he should move on. Find some girl who can love him the way he deserves to be loved. But now he's so deeply ingrained in every part of me that the idea of being apart makes every bit of me hurt. After everything, I'm still that selfish girl.

It's silent for too long. I want to look up at him but I don't dare. The words topple out. "Are you going to leave me?" My voice is so small I barely hear myself. Peeta stares at me.

"What?" he asks, like he can't believe the words coming out of my mouth.

"Is this it? Are you going to leave me?" I repeat. I just... I want to know. Is this irreconcilable? Did I finally break us?

"Of course not," he says, as if my question is ridiculous to the point of offensive. "There is no more of that. There is no more running away from each other."

I am so relieved I take a step forward but he counters back.

"I can't," he says, pulling himself away from me. I will my body to stop. Peeta turns away from me and pulls a pair of pajama pants from the bottom drawer. He hands them to me and locks himself in the bathroom. I grab the letters, get back in bed, and stare at the door, waiting.

It's hours before he comes out. Maybe he's hoping I'll be asleep but I'm not. He removes his leg and slides himself in beside me, careful to keep a barrier of air between our bodies. He rolls away from me. He speaks to the wall.

"I know prison was terrible for you. More than anyone else I can understand that," he says, his tone even. Practiced. Peeta does understand. He went through worse. "I understand that in order to survive you had to let me go."

Tears sting my eyes in the dark. I sacrificed Peeta then, when I made my plan to kill Coin. It's a decision I'd never make now, but I was so utterly destroyed by my sister's death that I couldn't see straight.

"I need you to promise me that there is no more you letting me go. Because what you asked earlier made everything so much worse. You are it for me, Katniss. I'm not leaving you. But you're still ready to walk away," he says carefully.

I'm not sure if he wants me to, but I roll over and curl myself around his body. He lets out a shaky breath. His heart is pounding in his chest like he's just run a marathon.

"No more letting go. Not ever," I promise, kissing his hair lightly. He tries to rollover to face me but I lock my body tight around him. "Not letting go," I whisper playfully.

"Katniss?" he whispers.

"Yeah?" I breathe into the skin of his back.

"When I was in captivity, it made it easier for me to think about you. I'd close my eyes and pretend we were on the beach or in my kitchen or eating cake in bed. Did you really not think about me?"

"I thought about you all the time," I confess. "But it just made it hurt worse."

"I think you should read my letters," Peeta says, his voice still a little unstable.

"Okay," I confirm, pressing a soft kiss on the back of his neck. His shoulders hitch like it tickles, but I just take it as encouragement. I breathe hot air onto his skin, kissing again while rocking my hips forward gently. I slide my hand over his hip until my fingers dip just under the waistband of his sleep shorts. I feel his heat. Peeta sighs and presses his body back into me, his hips rocking into mine. I bite my lip and whimper, and that's when he rolls over and pulls me underneath him. He's hard as he presses himself onto that part of me that makes me sink into the bed. He gently thrusts his hips forward and my legs start to tremor.

"Too much clothing," I mutter, sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head, gliding his shorts over his hips. Our mouths crash together like lovers separated by time and distance, but the only thing separating us this the last year was me. Peeta tugs at my nightshirt and I let him slip it away from my body. His eyes rake over my chest and I wonder if it will ever stop feeling like the first time for him. Like the last.

I press my mouth to his and try to show him it's not. That this night is one of many in a future I didn't think I had. I kiss his chest and work my way slowly down his body, his body trembles lightly each place my lips land. When I pass his stomach Peeta shoots up on his elbows, eyes bulging from his head.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice a mix of excitement and panic.

"Kissing you," I repeat the words he said the first time he did this to me.

"Katniss, you don't owe me... that..." he stutters. "I don't want it to be because –"

"This isn't an apology. It's because I love you," I reason before I glide his length into my mouth. He gasps and his entire body shivers as he drops back down to the bed. He keeps his eyes locked on me, like this is some fantastic dream and I might evaporate. I move my mouth down experimentally, mimicking what I normally do with my hands, and Peeta makes a choking sound in his throat. I swirl my tongue around him as my head bobs. He drops to his back and I can feel his entire body squirming underneath me. I clasp his base with my hand and move it along with my mouth as he balls the sheets in his fists. Everything feels wet and he tastes different than I expected but it's not bad. Feeling him against my tongue strokes a longing between my legs that only gets tighter with each noise out of Peeta's throat. I start rubbing myself against his leg as I suck him hard. Peeta shifts himself back onto his elbows and watches me with amazement. He groans and I hear his breath, ecstatic and erotic at the same time.

"I need you," he breathes, pulling me up the bed and hooking his thumb in the band of my underwear, tugging them down my legs. His fingers glide back up, dipping into me. "You're so wet. Did you like that?" he asks with a hint of hope in his voice.

I nod and he grins happily. "I like when you feel good," I breathe, my hips bucking against his hand, trying to satisfy this insatiable want that I nurtured slipping my lips down the length of him and back.

Peeta hitches one of my legs up and buries himself inside of me. We both gasp a little, my fingers digging desperately into his shoulders. He starts thrusting his hips gently, but I rock hard against him. I don't want him to be gentle. I want him to claim me, to let me claim him, to never worry about things between us again.

"You feel so good," he says as his drops his mouth to my neck. He tugs my ear with his teeth before his lips finally find mine. When we kiss like this, while he's inside me, it makes every other sensation feel more intense. Like there's more heat. I gasp against his lips and he tenderly strokes my mouth, pulling my bottom lip gently between his teeth. I open my mouth slightly and he dips his tongue inside. I feel like he's inside me everywhere. I gently suck on his tongue and a moan catches in his throat.

"I'm gonna come soon," he confesses, rocking hard into me.

"Me too, just don't stop," I pant. His body gets stiff and his face twists as he empties inside me. Everything is so wet and his arms tremble but he doesn't stop the furious pace until I come underneath him, clutching his torso like an anchor as I arch my back and finally collapse into the sheets.

Peeta falls beside me, rolling on his back and weaving his fingers in mine.

"Make up sex is good," he whispers, a huge smile on his face. I laugh.

"Make up sex is good," I repeat. His leans over and kisses my temple before collapsing back into the bed.

"I can't move. I think I'm stuck like this forever," he smiles, his eyes closed.

I reach across the nightstand and grab the bundle of letters. I take a deep breath and slip the first one from the pile.

"Katniss you don't have to do that now," he whispers, watching me.

"No, I do. For me," I reply, breaking the seal.

Dear Katniss.