Author's Note: No, your eyes are not deceiving you. This is truly an update to this story! I promised I hadn't forgotten about it! But I am so terribly sorry that it took this long to finally see the light of day. I've just really been struggling with my writing lately. Both because I go back and forth with whether it's even any good and plus my busy schedule, etc. Anyway, thank you to all who have reached out to me! It's always so wonderful to see people are actually invested in this story so thank you so, so, so very much! It truly means the world to me. And you're the reason I'm even still here writing in the first place. So this chapter is for all of you — Thank you so much!
Please note, this chapter is NOT beta-ed by anyone but me...and I'm rather terrible at it. I just simply didn't want to bother my regular betas after so many months of radio silence. I know they have their own things going on (and amazing written works, or so I've seen) so I decided to make my own bed and lay in it, so to speak. So all mistakes are MINE, please forgive me. And without any further delay, please ENJOY!
Summary: There are also three types of people in Dawson, Texas: those who are trying to flee, those who embrace their small town fate, and the Mellarks. Mellark Ranch; largest cattle ranch South of Dallas, employer of ranch hand, Katniss Everdeen, and home of Ohio State Buckeye running back, Peeta Mellark. And Peeta Mellark is coming home today.
Lone Star State of Mine
Chapter Twenty: What We Ain't Got
"We all wish it didn't hurt."
Sacrifice.
We've all made one, or multiple, at one time or another. Some may be mundane, like giving up the last Oreo so your little sister doesn't scream at the top of her lungs. And some may be life changing, like going to work instead of college after graduating high school because that's what your family needs.
Some sacrifices demand something from us, while others are ones we give all to willingly. Some of us are self-sacrificing by nature. Some people are the type that they'd rather put upon themselves than others. Half of the sacrifices these types of people make are ones they've stepped up to. No one had to ask them, no one even had to look in their direction, and they're already suiting up to the take the fall. It's not for the glory of the sacrifice or the gratitude of others, but simply because they feel it is within their power to fix the entire situation with their sacrifice. They have a Savior Complex, perhaps.
They're always the hardest ones to rescue.
Gale has a 'sacrifice now, ask questions later' mentality, but I think that comes from being the oldest in his family and losing his dad so young. Gale nearly dropped out of school after his dad passed away — probably would have if it hadn't been for Mr. Mellark offering him a part-time job for almost full-time pay as long as he stayed in enrolled. Mr. Mellark rescued Gale in that sense.
I was always impressed with Gale and his aptitude to jump in and fix things. Sure, I stepped up to help Prim and my mother after my own father passed away, but it was after weeks of self-pity and grief. There were days I could hardly get out of bed. There were moments I literally had to will myself to continue breathing because it felt like my last breath left when my dad did. Sacrifice doesn't come as second nature to me. I have to build myself up to it. It's not that I don't want to do these things to help my family or those that I love. I'd do anything for them, but I first have to have my own inward struggle. A fight to continue on when you've been sucker punched by life isn't an easy one to overcome, but some do it better than others.
But then again, sometimes you can live inside your own sacrifice for so long that sooner or later it doesn't feel like the sacrifice you once felt you were making. Instead it feels like the life you were meant for in some sense. That's how I feel about my decisions to put Prim's life before my own. It has brought me here and as hard as it has been I wouldn't change a thing. Except for maybe Peeta's decision.
The sun hasn't snuck over the horizon yet when my eyes flutter open and I slowly start to stretch across my old mattress. The familiar ache of my muscles only help to remind me of the night before and glancing over at Peeta's sleeping figure just confirms it all. I want to curl back up and sleep next to him forever, but I'm also restless as our conversation floods my mind.
I notice the crease above Peeta's eyebrows is deeper now. I used to think he always looked so tired in his sleep. Now he looks not only tired but also entirely put upon. Our conversation went late into the night about how he could at least finish out the year and then spend the summer making a more long-term decision. I had hoped this suggestion would allow him to return to something he truly loved. Something he did that was entirely for him and no one else. He would in turn see how much he needed it in his life and decide to finish going to school entirely. Possibly even go further with his football career. I mean, everyone else is talking about that possibility, why shouldn't he consider it?
But Peeta really said nothing outside his responsibility to his family. And somehow I knew that would be his response. Somehow I knew I wouldn't be able to convince him to make a seemingly selfish decision. But I had tried and I will keep trying, but I'm beginning to think I'm going to need reinforcements.
I turn on my side to place a lazy kiss across his bare shoulder before quietly removing myself from under the blankets. My eyes instantly search the floors for our long discarded clothes when I realize they hadn't been removed in this room. Warmth spreads across my cheeks at the passionate memory. I tiptoe out of my bedroom and down the hall. Only slightly embarrassed by my unusual nudity as I freely roam my small home.
Reaching my kitchen, I grab Peeta's t-shirt and toss it over my head before scurrying toward my nearby laundry room to find a pair of clean underwear in the laundry basket.
Once I'm dressed appropriately enough to walk in front of my kitchen windows, I take to making my traditional cup of morning coffee. I feel about a thousand years old when I think of just how much I relay on that little cup of black liquid in order to survive even the easiest of days.
The water washes down the sink as I reach for the coffee pot. My fingers dip into the flowing stream coming from the faucet more out of habit than for a real need to check the temperature. I pop the lid open to faithful pot and allow it to fill with water. I leave it in place and start grabbing the rest of the ingredients for my coffee.
The coffee flitter has just been placed into the old machine when I feel a pair of calloused hands sneak beneath the worn materially of my new claimed t-shirt.
I jump slightly against his touch, but instinctively lean back into the familiar, hardness of his bare chest. Anxieties I wasn't even aware I had always seem to fade away whenever he's nearby and I feel relaxed in his embrace. The skin above my hips tingles with the feather light trace of his fingertips. A lazy smile crosses my lips when I feel him nuzzle into the side of my neck, pushing my tangled hair away to nip just behind my ear.
"I had great plans for this morning," Peeta hums and my body begins to burn with anticipation. I feel his fingers hook over the waistband of my panties and the moisture that pools at my core is sinful. "I was going to hear you scream my name as you came before your feet hit the floor. But I guess I'm going to have to go for Plan B."
My head turns toward his; my lids feel heavy with desire. My mind has long since forgot about the coffee and the pot now overflowing with water in the sink. I let my hand run up to grasp the back of his neck as I get lost in his open mouth kisses to my neck and jawline.
"And what's Plan B?"
"Fuck you in the kitchen." Peeta's breath is hot against my cheek and I audibly groan as I feel my panties drop to my feet. "Again."
The blood in my veins practically goes into overdrive as my heart feels as though it's going to beat right out of my chest. I am complete putty in his hands as I feel him lifting the shirt up and off of me. My ceaseless need for the man behind me overrides any feelings of embarrassment I have about standing in front of my kitchen windows completely nude. In fact, my only regret is that the sun has just started to rise and its becoming light outside. Darkness would mean I could see my reflection in the window. I could watch Peeta devour me like I so desire.
His fingers tickle across the sensitive flesh of my stomach and the butterflies inside erupt. His lips are still continuing their assault across my now bare shoulders. My hips instinctively buck back against him, wanting more contact with him. My back meets his chest with no bearer and the contact only feeds my need for all of him.
"Anxious, baby?" He asks, biting my shoulder with a roughness I don't see too often in him. The sensation mixed with the growl in his voice causes me to gasp.
We have barely begun and I can already feel my clit throbbing for attention. My knuckles go white from my grip on the countertop when I feel Peeta's fingers find my sensitive nipple and pinch ever so slightly. My mind is in a haze as his hand continues to tease my mounds. I'm only half aware of his other hand making a slow trail across my hipbone and past the coarse curls between my legs. It's not until I feel two fingers against the button that's been craving his attention from the start that I cry out and practically convulse against him. He makes three harsh circles around the bud and I already feel my impending orgasm starting to creep within me.
"Someone is wound tight this morning." Peeta's gruff voice breaks against my ear so I can hear he's nearly as undone as I am. His control will slip soon and it does nothing but thrill me. "And so wet. So fucking wet."
His forehead goes to rest against my shoulder and I can imagine him biting down on his bottom lip as he tries to maintain control. I know that look. That look breaks me every time. My mouth sags open as I allow the image of Peeta losing control to completely consume me. His two fingers work persistent circles against my clit while his other hand continues to split its time between both of my hardened nipples.
I feel his hardened length grind against my bare backside. The rough material of his athletic shorts against me and his fingers working their aggressive course have me all but falling on my knees in front of the kitchen sink. It's then I realize that Peeta is no longer massages my breasts, but instead his free hand has wrapped around me just below my ribcage. His hold is my stability as he pulls me flesh against him.
The coil in my stomach is about to snap completely when I finally find the strength in myself to push Peeta's assaulting hand away from my throbbing center. He complies and I immediately miss the contact. Before my willpower vanishes, I reach behind me and numbly tug at Peeta's low-slung shorts.
"Inside me." I manage to get out before I throw my head back against his shoulder. "I want to come with you inside me."
Peeta says nothing, but I sigh as his hands leave me completely. Soon I feel the material of his shorts drop along my legs before pooling just behind my feet. I glance down to see him step out of them and kick them away. My excitement is floored when I realize there is no barrier standing between us.
Peeta's hands slowly slide up from the small of my back to in between my shoulder blades. Each hand then runs along my shoulders before gliding down my arms. The skin beneath his fingers ripples with goose bumps and I bite my lip to keep from screaming out. My entire body feels like a ticking time bomb just begging to be let off.
"You're so beautiful." He mumbles against my ear, his hands coming to intertwine with mine. He reaches forward to push my hands to grip the countertop they are familiar with.
My hands remain against the cool surface, but Peeta's go to grip my hips and I feel one of his feet nudge mine to silently instruct me to spread them farther. My stance widens and my heart races with anticipation. My eyes look straight ahead and I can almost see the outline of our bodies in the glass of my kitchen window. The sun has come up over the horizon, but the night is still trying to force its own colors on the sky above.
The sky looks nearly as beautiful as the man standing behind me.
His reflection just past mine is mostly blocked, but I see the outline of his unruly curls framing his face. The muscles of his chest are defined by the control he's been hanging to for dear life. His hands grip my hips just above the countertops and I can see where his nails are pressed into the sensitive flesh there. But it's his face that I strain my eyes to try and see the details of. His lids are heavy and I can just imagine the flushed color that spreads from his cheeks down. His lips are parted in a silent cry.
I drop my head and turn it to the side with every intention of telling him just how perfect we look together, but then he enters me. My cries of ecstasy leave my lips before I am able to truly comprehend the amazing sensations coursing through my veins. I am so beyond ready for him that he slips in without any hesitation from my body or his. We are joined within a split second and we're frozen there.
My cries turn into quiet gasps for air as I feel Peeta lean against me for support. His staggered breath tickles at the base of my neck. I'm not sure if it's the position or the high emotions that haven't quite left from the night before that cause both of us to pause momentarily, but I instantly feel a need for more contact. One of my hands reaches up to lace through his against my hip and I turn somewhat awkwardly to place a sloppy kiss against any piece of flesh I can.
His head lazily moves toward mine and I finally feel my lips come in contact with his. The kiss is short and heated, both of us on the brink of losing it completely. When I pull my lips away I make it a point to allow my forehead to linger against his and mumble, "Fuck me."
I know it's the drop that causes the dam to break within him. His hands grip me to the point I'm certain I'll have marks later and Peeta's hips start to grind against me. At first his thrusts are shallow and steady. He's making sure I like our newfound position and as much as I appreciate his unnecessary concern it's not enough. I need so much more.
My hips push back against him as a way to tell him of the need my lips cannot form into words. And it doesn't take him long to understand my message and his hips are bucking hard against me. The sound of our bodies slapping against each other mixed with my continued cries of pleasure fills the air as Peeta continues to hold such a beautiful rhythm between us.
With each thrust he hits an especially sensitive spot within me and it isn't long at all before I feel that familiar build. It's when I feel one of Peeta's hands slip from my waist up to grasp one of my sensitive breasts that I know I'm long since lost. My mouth falls open in a silent prayer as my body goes ridged with its release.
Peeta continues to buck wildly against me as my orgasm rushes over me and I finally let out a loud, miraculous cry. My upper body leans farther against the countertop and I feel Peeta's hand that was once on my breast move around to reach up and grasp my hair. The position is primal, but the mix of pleasure and pain causes my cries to continue. I love this side of Peeta. The side of him that has completely lost all control and it's because of me. Because of what I cause in his body. The thought is enough to bring on my second orgasm without pause.
It's not until I feel the pressure against my clit that I realize I've reached down on my own accord and started assaulting my own center. Peeta's hand clutches tightly to my loose trestles of hair and I can sense his rhythm is faltering. He's close and something primal in me causes me to reach past my own sensitive center to delicately caress his thrusting balls.
The new technique must be Peeta's undoing because it only takes a couple more powerful thrusts for him to still behind me while I ride out my second orgasm brought upon by his last deep thrust. My chest heaves as a mangled cry of release spills from me for the second time this morning. Peeta's own voice is strangled against my neck as he incoherently mumbles my name repeatedly.
Our once vocal lovemaking no longer hangs in the air and my small kitchen suddenly sounds dead silent. The only thing to be heard is our heavy breathing as we both try to get our wits about us. Peeta is planting firm kisses against my shoulder and I lean against the countertop, the cool surface feeling like ice against my heated flesh.
"Fuck. Me." Peeta says against my back, annunciating each word overdramatically.
I can't help but laugh until I feel him slip from me. My laugh quickly turns into a groan at the loss of him. I feel myself being turned into his arms so that I'm facing him for the first time this morning. That thought causes me to laugh again.
"I thought we just did that?" I playfully ask, leaning against him completely as I allow for my arms to wrap around him.
"Give me a minute and a shower." He says, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on my lips. "And we'll be doing it again. We have a lot of time to make up for."
I smile, but as my eyes search his face I realize there are more important issues that still need to be worked out. Peeta is still not planning to return to school and it's still something that does not set well with me. It's a conversation I had planned to tackle again this morning, but like always, he has a fine talent in distraction. My hands come up to rest on either side of his face and I let my fingers push away a couple of curls from his forehead.
"I think we need to talk first." I say in almost a whisper, afraid to completely ruin this continued reunion.
If Peeta knows what's coming his features only betray him for a second before he's smiling again. He shakes his head and leans forward to place another kiss on my lips. When his lips pull away his whole body does as well and all I'm left with is his hand in mine as he starts to pull me down the hallway.
"Too busy." Peeta comments offhandedly. "We need a shower."
I can't help but follow with a giggle, but silently I plan my attack and it's certainly going to call for reinforcements.
I worry my chapped bottom lip as I make a slow drive across Dawson. My reinforcements are going to have to come in the shape of Peeta's most valued advisors: his brothers. And I know convincing them that he needs to return to school will take little to no convincing. They just need to be aware of what's going on in his head. Or do they?
Doubt creeps in no matter how loud I turn my radio up.
What if they already know? What if Peeta has already spoken with them and they're in support of his decision? What if I'm completely stepping over my boundaries, as he's barely on-again girlfriend? I feel as though I'm doing what's best for Peeta, but what if what's best for him is letting him make this decision on his own without the constant badgering of others?
My inner struggle causes me to remain in my old truck as I stare at Clement's house. My hands grip the steering wheel as I observe the small front yard that his wife has nicely aligned with flowers. Flowers that have started to wilt in the fall-like temperatures of night, but still maintain some of their vibrant summer colors.
This is crazy. I should be helping Peeta right now instead of conspiring against him. What kind of united front does that portray? I promised to stand by his side and support him. This isn't supporting him. But he can't throw it all away this easily. This isn't deciding to cut back on a couple of credit hours. This is walking away from college altogether. Walking away from football. Walking away from a possibly brighter future. That kind of future could easily take him out of Dawson.
The flip of my stomach doesn't go unnoticed as I shove my door open and jump out from behind the wheel. My feet crunch against the gravel driveway as I make my way toward their front door. The air in my lungs seems to be trapped there as I reach for the doorbell and push once. The sound echoes inside the cottage-style home and I anxiously step away from the door and let my eyes stare around the front porch.
My fingers intertwine in front of me and I can't help but ring them together tightly. My eyes instantly dart toward the door when I hear the sound of the knob. The home is one of the newer ones in Dawson and the door doesn't crick like my mom and Prim's, but swings smoothly to show Clement's familiar face.
"Katniss!" He grins, instantly pushing open the storm door and moving off to the side to allow me entrance. "Peeta with you?"
"Um — no. He's having lunch with your dad." I say awkwardly, walking past his open invitation and into their home. "Your mom took Cressida over to Malone to that seamstress she likes."
I can't help but notice the simple and clean decor of their home. The smell of lilacs and vanilla fill the air and I notice a small candle lit in the entryway on top of an end table. The house doesn't have the country grandeur that Mellark Ranch does, but it's obvious Clement's wife has put her own delicate touches on the place.
Clement shuts the door behind us and walks up next to me, placing a friendly hand on my shoulder and gesturing for me to follow him into the nearby kitchen. I silently follow his lead and do my best to swallow all the voices inside my head that are screaming that this is a mistake. I want nothing more than to turn around and run, but there's no turning back now.
"Well that's good for Dad — he can use a break from her." Clement laughs when we reach the kitchen, offering me a chair at the kitchen table. "Of course, Cressida's in for it. A day with my mother in the closed confides of a vehicle? Hope she packed the whiskey."
My laugh spills from my throat before I can stop it and I suddenly feel a tightening of guilt at how readily I enjoy a joke at her expense. And also at how ready Clement is to offer one. It's tragic really, how Mrs. Mellark's reputation is not only known, but also so common that it's joked about even within her own family. The boys in her life really don't deserve her. It's a miracle they all turned out the way they did.
Well, maybe not a miracle, but certainly a testament of type of man their father is.
"Care for something to drink? I think Tiff finished making sun tea before she ran to the store. Can I fix you a glass?" He asks, walking over toward the refrigerator and pulling out the pitcher.
"Sure, that'd be great. Thank you." I offer, playing with the bottom of the lace tablecloth that covers their small table.
"Sure thing."
Then the uncomfortable silence I knew would happen at some point hits like a heavy rock on my chest. I look around the kitchen almost hoping to find an item to bring up small talk about. My eyes land on several decorative paintings and then a large wooden hutch that holds numerous antique dishes. All very nice pieces, but all things I know absolutely nothing about. I'm not even sure I could fake casual conversation about colorful paint strokes or copper finishing around delicate dishes. Can anyone actually do that?
The sound of the tea being poured into glasses full of ice fill the air and I look back to see Clement finishing our drinks and putting the pitcher back into the refrigerator. Once he's shut the door, he grabs a cup in each hand and walks over toward where I'm sitting. I reach for my glass and smile with gratitude. He then moves to sit across from me. I suddenly wish his wife were here, like she would somehow be a person in my corner. Even though she has no idea what I'm even doing in my corner.
"So what brings you to my neck of the woods? Peeta acting like an idiot? Reese and I have been looking for a reason to pound on him. Haven't been able to do that recently." Clement grins, taking a drink of his tea.
"Um, well no, he's good — great, really. I'm here because — well, I'm sure you know about everything with Peeta and I — I mean, maybe I don't have any place here, but —"
"Yeah, Peeta kinda filled me in on everything, but hey — fear is a very real thing. I totally get that. Getting married at nineteen? You think I didn't want to run for the hills about a week after we decided that was a good idea?" he says, placing his arms on the table in front of him. "That was definitely a rocky time for Tiff and me. Thank god that woman's a saint."
His easy nature is almost infectious and I can't help but notice the way I relax back against my chair a little more as I listen to him. Peeta always talked about how Clement was his voice of reason and I can already see that in our short time together. My hands don't seem to fidget as much in my lap and I am actually looking at him across the table instead of my worn jeans.
"Yeah well, your brother probably falls into the saint category as well." I laugh, reaching up to take a sip of my tea.
"God, I know." Clement shakes his head, "It used to piss Reese and I off so much how perfect that little brat is. But that's all Peet. I have no clue where he gets it."
"Your dad." I say without thinking.
The expression on Clement's face then looks like the one Peeta gets whenever he hears something he isn't expecting. It's not a look of anger, happiness, or surprise. It's a look of realization. It's as if I'm looking at an older, scruffier version of Peeta.
"You're exactly right." He finally says with a warm smile, "If we didn't love him so much we'd probably hate his guts, wouldn't we?"
"Not possible." I say without thinking. I couldn't hate Peeta even if I tried.
A silence falls between us and my fingers again start to fidget against my jeans. My hands feel damp against the rough material and my stomach has already started its butterflies against. I feel once more like I'm betraying Peeta's decision. Our conversations never fully reached their finality before Peeta and his talented lips found a distraction I couldn't deny. And that's why I'm here in the first place; reinforcement against Peeta's avoidance tactics.
I continually have to remind myself of that.
"Peeta's not planning on going back to school." I blurt out the sentence so quickly the words nearly blur together and it feels like I've been holding my breath up until this point.
Once my confession is out, I stare wide-eyed at the guy across from me. I'm not sure what I'm expecting, but Clement simply leans back in his chair. A loud sigh of air is released as he runs his hand over his mouth. His eyes are looking past me, as if he's trying to reach for some kind of conclusion in his mind.
Then the screech of the chair can be heard against the tile as he pushes it from the table and stands. He reaches for his cup of tea and mine as well. He doesn't say anything as he swiftly moves from the dining area to the kitchen and dumps both contents. My stomach turns uncomfortably as I swallow hard. I've upset him. He's siding with his little brother — like I should have. He's going to ask me to leave in the nicest way possible, but in all reality he can't get me out soon enough.
My thoughts only get worse as I remain stuck in my chair and watch Clement move through the kitchen briefly. When he returns from around the counter he glances at me almost like he's surprised I'm still sitting. He's walking toward their small entryway and I still remain in my chair. Not because I want to, but because I feel literally glued to it.
"Mom doesn't know yet?" He asks, turning to look at me from the doorway.
I shake my head; afraid my voice has long since left this conversation.
"Good. We need to change that little brat's mind before she does. She'll have his hid made into next year's best coat." Clement says, reaching into a small bowl by the door and I hear the jingle of keys. "But we're going to need someone with a bit more…personality. Come on. I'll drive."
Clement is already out the house before I can fully register what has just happened. I hear the screen door shut before I am finally able to move to my chair. I realize what our next step is.
We're going to need Reese.
"Did he slip and fall in the shower?" Reese's voice echoes through his small bachelor pad as he paces in front of his television. "What happened in the last game? Did someone hit him too hard? Someone hit him too hard. There's no way that kid is that dense. That's his way out he's fucking with!"
"But he doesn't want out." I remind him of our earlier conversation. "He wants to be here helping his dad. It's his home. His responsibility."
"Whose side are you on?" Reese glares at me, stopping in his tracks to rest his hands on his hips.
"Relax Gladiator, she's just arguing what Peet's going to argue." Clement laughs, leaning back against the sofa we're sitting on.
"Well he's always been a little not right in the head." Reese taps his pointer finger against his temple as he looks at his brother.
"I can hear you winning him over already." Clement groans, running a hand through his short hair.
"You're the one who came to me. What's your bright idea? Talk it out. The Clement way; everything can be solved with a meaningful conversation about life, liberty and the pursuit of fucking happiness."
"And what would you suggest? Sedate and hog-tie him until we reach Buckeye territory?"
"Whatever it fucking takes! This is his future!" Reese's voice is full of an emotion I'd never seen from him before, but Clement doesn't seem at all phased as he watches his own flesh and blood get mad enough to boil. "This isn't some high school team he's letting down. This is Division I football! Have you not been watching SportsCenter, Clem? He's got fucking potential. He's going to go places! He's can't just throw that —"
"And you don't think I know that, Reese?" Clement's voice is now matching his brother's as he stands up from the couch. "You don't think I realize all he's throwing away to stick around here because he thinks we won't help pick up the slack? Because he thinks we're too busy with our own lives? This isn't just his responsibility — it's ours."
The two continue their silent stare down for a moment before Reese finally looks away and starts pacing the length of his living room again. My own heart is racing at the reaction these two have over their youngest sacrificing everything. My eyes move from one Mellark to the next and I can't help but feel as though I'm invading on an extremely personal moment. One that I caused and one that I now wish I had waited outside for them to come to a solution.
"And it's our responsibility to make sure that self-sacrificing twit doesn't do something he's going to regret in twenty years." Reese finally speaks, looking down at the carpeted floor beneath his bare feet.
"Then I suggest we all get on the same page." Clement agrees, crossing his arms over his chest.
My eyes move as Reese continues to pace like some kind of a cornered animal. I'm still inwardly surprised at just how quickly and emotionally this hit him. I always knew that the whole Mellark family — hell, most of Dawson — was assuming Peeta would play college football and then continue on to make career of the sport. Even I thought that before I really knew him. There were just certain truths in our southern town: the sky is blue, tea is better with sugar, and Peeta Mellark is destined to make it big.
"Sedation really isn't all that hard to come by." Reese grins.
"Can we at least try to get him to go willingly, first?" I finally speak.
"First? Meaning if it doesn't work, we'll do it my way?" He eyes me mischievously.
My hands clap together in front of my lap as I lean forward on my knees, suddenly aware that I'm the only one still sitting. I look at him for a long moment before I smirk, "Then we'll talk about your way."
"I always knew she'd fit right into the family." Clement pipes in, taking his seat again next to me. Reese follows suit and finally has a sit in a recliner near the farthest corner of the room.
"So what's our drug-free approach?"
"You said Peet's having lunch with our dad and Mom's off torturing Cressida?" Reese asks and I nod in reply. "Then I suggest we leave now."
Being stuck between Reese and Clement during our short drive back to Mellark Ranch is like being caught between two women strategizing their shopping route for Black Friday. It's annoying and entertaining at the same time. I kind of appreciate their constant conversation because it's helping distract me from the possibly annoyed Peeta I'm about to be faced with. What if he's reaction is as heated as his two brothers? What if all the Mellark men start a screaming match? Of course, Mr. Mellark's responses will still be rather limited, but I'd bet my month's wages that as soon as he even opens his mouth they'll all shut up.
But when we turn to move down the long, iconic driveway my stomach turns to a boil and their conversation seems to go mute to my own ears. My palms start to sweat and I feel like Judas about to face his terrible decision. I caused all of this. What if it ends with no real resolution? Peeta stays because he's just as stubborn as these two and these they leave angry? It will all be because I couldn't bring myself to have this conversation with him. What if I had been able to convince him and this was all for not? What if I just made this something it isn't?
The truck comes to a slow stop in front of the main house. Clement and Reese jump out instantly while I move not as quickly. My eyes remain glued on the house as I tentatively push myself toward the passenger door. Reese holds the door open as I jump out, but his mind is already inside as I hear him make an offhanded comment to Clement. My mind's not registering to anything as I follow behind them.
They barrel into house with rightful ownership and it makes my mouse-like behavior that much more noticeable. I close the door behind me, waving at Beetee through one of the side panel windows. I turn around again to see the oldest brothers have disappeared, but my ears hear the informal reunion of the Mellark boys in the kitchen before I actually see it.
"Hey Pop." Clement says, stepping behind the oldest Mellark's wheelchair and leaning against his shoulders affectionately. "What'd Peeta manage not to burn for lunch?"
"Hamburg-ah and frie-ths." Mr. Mellark offers one of his fries to the son behind him with his good hand.
"And it's from Greasy Sae's. I was saving my talents for the peach cobbler in the oven." Peeta says from across the table and I am suddenly aware of the sweet smell wafting through the air.
He doesn't notice as I step into the kitchen because he's still watching Reese and Clement interact with their dad. I stay towards the wall, almost dreading the moment I'll be noticed. The Mellark family is something of an enigma to me, especially the men. Even under the tyrant that is Mrs. Mellark, these four men ooze nothing but stable and nurturing relationships. In spite of their constant troubles caused by her they act as though their lives could be nothing but perfect. It's a state of mind over matter for them.
It's their strength that makes me curious. It's their willingness to live above their problems that makes me envious.
"I'm sure Cressida is going to love that you fed our dad a greasy cheeseburger and fries." Clement scolds Peeta. "And are then a slice of peach cobbler on top of that."
"I'll-th justh have a spoo-wn full." Mr. Mellark argues, patting his son's hand that still rests on his shoulder.
Clement rolls his eyes, still glaring at his younger brother. Peeta looks as though he's the cat who's been caught with the canary. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest I can tell he's waiting to see what Clement's response will be.
Reese, who has been quietly stealing Peeta's remaining fries, takes a sit next to him and looks at Clement with laugh, "Relax Clem. We'll clean up the evidence before they even get home. And we'll make sure Dad has nothing but cardboard and lettuce for the remainder of his life."
He leans over and nudges Peeta. The look of guilt is still evident in the younger Mellark's eyes, but he laughs along with his brother. Clement isn't as easily swayed, but his hard demeanor does waver slightly when he looks down and sees his father looking up at him with a dropping grin of his own.
"Nothing but lettuce and cardboard." Clement repeats, defeated.
Another silence fills the kitchen and I'm left standing against the wall playing with the pockets of my worn jeans. A small smile graces my own features at the interaction between them. Again, their family amazes me with their petty arguments that always seem to be solved with a sarcastic comment.
"Besides, we didn't come here to argue Dad's diet habits." Reese looks at Clement, then to Peeta, and then finally to me.
I feel a spark down my spine when Peeta's eyes follow his and it's as if he's just noticing me for the first time. Mr. Mellark and Clement also look in my direction and I feel as though I'm on display. I push myself off the wall to stand up straight, but I don't come forward. I'm not really sure I want to come forward.
"Katniss." Peeta says my name with a beautiful smile, one that goes straight to my knees. He stands up from the kitchen table and comes over to me.
Welcoming his arms around me is easy, even when I know the three other men are watching our exchange. His lips grace my cheek for a quick moment before turning back to look at his family. The feeling of betrayal already starts to boil within me and I'm ready to run for the door. This conversation shouldn't be this hard. I shouldn't have made this into such a big deal. Now I feel as though we're creating some sort of intervention for a situation I probably could have just handled on my own.
"Well, really we aren't here to argue at all." Clement turns more to face his little brother, while Reese also stands up from the kitchen table.
"Your flight leaves tomorrow morning." Reese says, crossing his arms over his chest. "So I assume you'll need to be packing tonight. Don't worry, we'll make sure Dad has his fair balance of healthy food while you're away."
Peeta groans, running a hand over his face before glancing at me. I don't say anything, but I reach out to touch his arm. He looks back at his brothers and father, "Look, I was going to tell you guys later. I'm not going back to —"
"We know you think you're not going back to school." Clement interrupts, "But you've always had a knack for being wrong."
"And stupid." Reese grumbles.
"I'm needed here." Peeta pipes in, stepping forward to stand closer to his brothers. "I need to help around the ranch and make sure —"
"What? Do you think Reese and I forgot how to work when we moved off this plae?" Clement argues, his voice rising above a relaxed tone for conversation. "Believe it or not, we've been doing this longer than you have. Plus we have Gale, Beetee, and the others to pull their weight — which they always do. We'll miss you, but we don't need you here. We need back at school. "
"Dad can't just be left alone all the time!" Peeta's voice rises to match Clements. "Mom will drive him absolutely insane. She already does and she's hardly around."
"And what are you going to do about that?" Reese jumps in, coming to stand next to Clement. "What are you going to do about that ten years from now? Mom doesn't change just because you stick around —"
"But Dad is different. Dad needs all the help he —"
"We'll be here to make sure he gets it. Cressida will be here to make sure he gets it. We don't need your self-sacrificing ass mopping around here being some kind of maid."
Peeta steps even closer to his brothers and I can practically cut the tension in the air. My throat has gone dry and my ears ring with the echoes of the raised voices bouncing off the walls. Reese steps up to his little brother like he's just about to say something when we all freeze in our places.
"Enough!"
The booming voice causes my heart to stop for a split second. Everyone's eyes are wide as they look from each other to the person the voice came from. Mr. Mellark has pushed his wheelchair back away from the table and has managed to slightly turn himself in the direction of his sons' face off.
"Is there a reason you are t-talking about me like I'm not here?" He asks, his voice barely slurred. "Like I am some kind of chari-th-y case?"
No one says anything. Instead three pairs of eyes fall to the ground and stare at their shoes. I watch as Mr. Mellark watches all of them. He's angry, but nowhere near the burning rage that I have been unfortunate enough to see coming from Mrs. Mellark.
"Las-th time I checked, I chang-ged each of your diapers. I'm pretty sure, I-I can handle my life just fine without any of you b-babysitting me."
The response to Mr. Mellark's words by the Mellark sons is the closest I have ever seen to true reverence. I can tell Peeta wants to argue by the way he clutches his fists next to his sides, but he says nothing. Clement and Reese look at each other with a fool's expression and I again feel like I'm invading on something.
"Peet-ath, you are leaving for school tomorrow morning. I will see you on TV this Satur-dath. Reese, you'll continue to work at the factory unless Gale or Beetee ask you oth-awise. Clement, you've got your own family — continue to t-take care of that."
Nothing is said, but the boys all look at each other and they know this conversation is over. There is no room for discussion. It's not that they only agree with Mr. Mellark's decision, it's that they respect it. There is a certain peace that only his words can offer. He always had to be the one to settle this argument.
"Are we clear?" He asks, looking at each of his boys.
"Clear." They say in unison and I feel like this isn't the first time he's asked this of his sons.
"Good, because the cobbl-a is probably going to bur-nth." Mr, Mellark then looks to me with a smile. "Katni-th, it's alway-th good to see you. Please stay for cobbl-a."
I smile, shy at the attention that's now back on me. I nod at Mr. Mellark as Clement moves his wheelchair back toward the kitchen table and Reese heads toward the oven to pull out the dessert. The tension that once filled the air seems to be instantly gone and that only slightly surprises me.
When I feel Peeta's arms come around my middle I look over at him, his piercing blue eyes full of amusement.
"Do I have you to thank for staging this little coup?" Peeta asks, his lips close to my ear.
"Are you mad?"
"No." He lips linger just below my ear before he pulls away to look at me. "Actually, I'm rather impressed at the reinforcements you're able to pull together in a day."
"You should see what I can do in a week."
Peeta pulls me flesh against him and plants his lips securely on mine. Like always, it's easy to get lost in the feels of him surrounding me. His hands slide down to my waist and I let my arms wrap around his neck.
"Hey Peet!" Reese's voice breaks us apart and brings me back to reality. "Can you guys share that dessert somewhere else? We're all trying to enjoy ours."
"We can always head to my place?" I mumble, before I turn to look at the rest of them.
"Hey guys, I'll see you tomorrow before I leave for the airport!" Peeta says, pulling me out of the kitchen before I even have a time to say my own goodbye. "We have to pack after all!"
We are nearly at the door when I hear Clement's voice, "You know you're room is upstairs, LoverBoy?"
"I left some things at Katniss' house!" Peeta calls and yanks me into the evening air.
"So you'll be home for Thanksgiving break?" I ask, my stomach in complete knots at the final realization that Peeta is going to have to walk through those security gates and leave me once again.
"I'll be home for Thanksgiving break." Peeta repeats, leaning over to place a kiss against my temple.
"And you're not mad that you're going back?"
"Not at all. I mean, the conversations could have probably been a bit more peaceful, but I love the OSU. I miss it." He sighs, looking toward the gates that lead to one of his great loves. My heart sinks and I fight with every ounce of my being to keep my doubts at bay. Peeta has proved to me over and over again the uselessness of my fears. He'll always be here for me.
Peeta must sense my discomfort because I feel his arms move to embrace me tightly and his lips pepper kisses across my face. I can't help but laugh and the breath of air feels like relief washing over me. I tug on his t-shirt to pull him flesh against me. When he rests his forehead against mine I have to close my eyes to keep tears from falling down my face. My hands move up to cup his face gently.
"You're not even gone and I already miss you."
"You could always come with me. Move in to the house? I'm sure the guys would love a feminine touch around." He offers and his words tickle against my own lips.
I lean in and kiss him desperately. Our lips tangle together and the kiss threatens to deepen, but before it can I pull away and pull him into a strong hug. One that I'm already dreading having to let go. Peeta is my home. It's a realization that was hard for me to admit to, but now that I have it's a piece of my life I'm not easily prepared to let go of.
"I'll see you in a couple weeks." Peeta's words cause my stomach to sink and when his arms loosen around me I want to crumple into a little ball. He brings his hands up around my neck to pull me into another quick kiss and then bends to pick up his bag. "I'll call you tonight."
I nod, knowing words will just cause me to let my irrational emotions loose. I have been doing well to keep the floodgates closed. The last thing I need is to lose it right before Peeta disappears to another state.
Peeta plants one more kiss on my cheek and then turns toward the nearby gates; his ticket in one hand and his bag in the other. I told myself I'd watch until he disappears, but I know my emotions won't allow it. So instead I watch him for a second and then turn to head back toward the doors. I need to get into my truck so I can have my minor breakdown in private.
I navigate my way towards the escalator and jump in line behind several others that are going back down to the exit. My eyes are trained on the floor the entire time. In my mind I'm focusing on anything but the realization that the last time I left Peeta at an airport it lead to the worst several weeks of my life. My rational side reminds me that those circumstances were so much different. Worse. But my irrational side tells me it feels the exact same way.
My feet step off the moving stairs and I head toward the door. I tighten my sweater around me and adjust my purse, staring straight ahead of me.
"Katniss!"
My name being called by that familiar voice makes my heart flutter and I turn around to see Peeta coming down off the escalator. When he's nearly reached me — completely frozen in place — he drops his bag and picks me up into his arms. I gasp as his open mouth meets mine in a passionate kiss. My fingers tangle through his curls and I let my knees lift behind me. I feel weightless in his arms and completely secure.
A moment later, my feet hit the ground but I refuse to let go of him just yet. And he seems to feel the same way because his arms hold me close to him.
"I love you." Peeta says.
"I love you too." I respond.
He kisses me again before he pulls away and I allow it. I watch him picks up his bag and start back towards his gate.
This time as he's leaving he turns around and waves at me. I wave back suddenly feeling slightly at ease after out exchange. These next weeks aren't going to be fun, but I'll get used to it. We'll get used to it because it doesn't matter where we are. We will always belong to each other.
Author's Note: And this, ladies and gents, means we are officially down to one final chapter to this story. Hope you're excited!