Part One

Chapter Eleven

"Peeta!"

I scream, sitting up so abruptly that my hair swings over my shoulders. My heart races so fast that I swear I can hear it straight through my chest. I breathe like I've just run a mile and shakily reach for the glass of water that I keep on my bedside table. My clock blinks 2:10 a.m.

This is becoming routine. Weeks have turned into months. Most nights I'm in bed by 11 and within a few hours the nightmares have clawed at my sleep. Though the dream morphs and changes, Peeta is always taken from me and I'm left staring at his vacant eyes that don't cry, plead or even question. I'm ripped awake screaming for Peeta just ask he drowns, plummets to the ground or succumbs to exposure.

I left him. It was too late. I am always too late.

I've gotten my life together. I have a steady job that earns me enough money to buy the necessities. I occasionally socialize with people from work outside of work. Haymitch's house is spotless. I cross things off of my lists.

I even briefly tried to forget him. But it's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.

I write to him every day. Sometimes it's coherent, mostly it's not. But it feels like I'm taking him with me. It feels like he's here.

I miss him so much. I miss feeling like anything was possible as long as we were together. I miss that unwavering trust. I miss holding his hand. I miss knowing what each of his smiles meant. I miss making him smile. I miss hugging him as hard as I could. I miss the paintbrushes that seem to end up everywhere. I miss his breath warm on my neck. I miss his heartbeat under my ear. I miss his calloused hands. I miss kissing that spot between his eyebrows. I miss his heart that is so unbelievably good…so good that it makes you realize that you'll never measure up.

I could live 1000 lifetimes and not deserve him.

…

Who knew that coffee could be so interesting? I'm not researching groundbreaking therapies or endangered species, but the science behind the bean—from plant to cup—is genuinely cool. Coffee has managed to meld agriculture with politics, anthropology, cuisine, history, biology and sociology. With Thresh guiding me, I feel as though I'm back in college and I love it. He's hinted at taking me on an international trip if my work intentions become more permanent. I've never really been anywhere outside of Wisconsin or Massachusetts, so the possibility alone is pretty foreign…in a good way.

I wish Peeta could share the possibility.

"Who's Peeta?"

Johanna's question snaps me out of my trance and I'm caught off-guard. Shit. Did I say that out loud? "What?"

"You heard me. I said, 'Who's Peeta?'"

"How do you know about Peeta?" I stop wiping down the sink to look at Johanna. My heart's doing that clenching thing and I'm having a hard time swallowing.

"I'd have to be a decent person to not know about Peeta. But considering I'm an asshole and you left out that book you constantly write in the minute you go on break, well, what did you expect?"

"What the hell?! That stuff is personal, Jo!"

"Oh calm down. You should have been more careful. So who's Peeta?"

"Seriously, stop—."

"Did he give you the ring?"

"Johanna, I don't want to—."

"Yes, yes. Continue being sullen and quiet. That's worked out well for you thus far. Tell me more about Peeta."

"It's complicated."

"So's roasting coffee. You seem to have managed. Finn!" She snaps her gingers. "French press! Now, Peeta. Seriously, who names their kid Peeta?"

She ushers me to a booth and pours, waiting expectantly. Explaining Peeta to Johanna is sort of like being in a car with someone who is learning how to drive a stick shift. The conversation stalls, jumps, halts, hurts and makes you feel like you're going to puke. It also takes most of one afternoon. The sky is dark and the café is closed by the time Johanna leans back.

"Well damn, dumbass. Peeta wants you. So you need to want him back."

"I think it's slightly more complicated than that, Jo."

"I think you like to complicate things when it's really quite simple, brainless. Find what makes you happy and who makes you happy and you're all set. Plus—."

"There's more?" My head hurts. I knead my forehead with my fingers, hoping to make it all go away.

"Peeta needs you. I'm not saying that you two don't have a messed up sense of what's healthy, but he's facing a hell of a mountain. Do you just want to be on the other side, or do you want to climb it with him? Might be good for both of you to face this newness together."

"I don't want to go back to Madison."

"So don't. There's approximately 12 billion other places you could check out. Including Amherst. If you knew that you couldn't fail, what would you do?"

"Don't you think I should figure out my own shit first?"

"Katniss, you keep rereading chapters of your life, hoping to find some magic sign." Johanna gets up from the booth and grabs her coat. "Trust me, there is no magic sign. Turn the page. Get on with living already." She stands up and yells, "Thresh! Katniss needs to talk to you!" Before he comes into view she asks again, "What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail?"

I shoot her my best scowl as Thresh comes sauntering in from the back, wringing a towel with an expectant look on his face.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thresh, I need a big favor."

"Already? You haven't worked here long enough for big favors." His smile betrays him and I begin to explain.

…

By the time I get home, I feel raw. Johanna knows more than even Prim or Annie does, but her blunt observations sit surprisingly well. After making arrangements with Thresh and Finnick, I know I need to talk to Haymitch. Sweeten him up a bit.

There's Dinty Moore and saltines at the kitchen table waiting when he comes in through the front door. I hand him a BBC Cabin Fever29.

"Aw hell. Now what?"

"You know that thing I'm running from?"

"No."

"Well, you're going to find out. I need to bring him here."

…

"Hi, Prim?" I look down at my thumbnail and there's nothing pretty about what I see. My conversations today have done a number on my cuticles. I'm not sure that the catharsis is quite over, either.

"Katniss! Hi! It's late, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. You sound good. Happy. Older." She does. My little sister isn't quite so little. How much have I missed?

"Well, I am a senior. It must be the senioritis."

"It's too early in the year for you to be leaning on that excuse, Prim. You have college decisions to make!" Oh my God, my little sister is going to college?

"I'm pretty sure I'll be heading to the University of Minnesota. You know, increase the sibling rivalry a little bit. Rory and I went to visit the campus last weekend and I fell in love."

"With the U, or with Rory?"

"TBD."

"Prim!" I clutch at the phone, my eyes bulging out of their sockets. Rory is Gale's little brother, and aside from being tall, dark and handsome, they have absolutely nothing in common. The younger Hawthorne is a basketball player, pretty conservative and has his eyes on med school.

"You've missed a lot, Katniss. I've missed you."

Sigh. "I've missed you too, Prim. So much." Let's get on with it. Deep breath. "Listen, I'm flying in this week. And before you rupture an artery, it's just for a few days. I need to stop by the place and pick up a few things."

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee—!"

I hold my ear away from the phone. I'm deaf.

"Prim."

"Eeeeeeeeeee—!"

"PRIM!"

"Yes! Sorry. Ohmigod when are you coming!?"

"Wednesday. Please Prim, I don't want you telling anyone that I'm coming to town. I have to tackle this one on my own."

"Are you going to see Peeta?"

"That's part of the plan." Seriously, that's the whole plan. "Lips zipped, got it?"

"Got it. I love you, you know. I'll be glad to see you again!"

"So you'll clear an evening for me?"

"I think I can squeeze you in. I'll help you at the apartment and then we can have dinner. Maybe Thursday?"

"Perfect. Well, I'm going to pack. Tell Mom I say hi, okay?"

"Got it. She's on all weekend though, so I doubt you'll be able to see her. Love you, Katniss! See you soon!"

I end the call and look around my room. Here we go.

…

Johanna drives me to Bradley International and we're silent the whole way. For once there aren't any smartass remarks or words of wisdom…just me and my nerves. She pulls up outside of the Delta gate and puts the car in park.

"I can't stay cos of the TSA, and let's be honest, I don't want to. So get out."

I laugh and grab my bags. I'm not sure how much I'll be bringing back, so I stuffed two empty duffels into my backpack along with the few items of clothing I thought I'd need.

She calls to me through the open window, "Katniss!"

"Hmm?"

"Don't fuck this up." And with that she drives away.

…

I decide not to waste any time when I get to Madison, driving to Mellark's Bakery right away before it closes. Of course I haven't planned anything and that has thrown me into a panic the second I park out front.

I'm sorry.

I abandoned you when you were at your lowest.

I never stopped loving you.

Please don't tell me you've stopped loving me.

I left you when you needed me the most.

I was afraid.

How are you?

I miss you.

I need you.

I want to figure this out.

Am I too late?

Do you hate me?

I wouldn't blame you for hating me.

Don't hate me.

Please.

I love you.

Come with me.

My feet move on their own accord and I walk to the front door, praying that there aren't any customers. As long as I've got God's attention, I'm praying that Peeta's parents aren't here, either. The bell rings and I stand alone in the middle of the store, enveloped by the smells I have memorized. For a moment, I close my eyes. I fold my hands in front of me and wait for someone—anyone.

The swinging door between the kitchen and the store opens and I hear "You made it right in the nick of time. I was just about to lock—."

And there he is, just as I remember him. Peeta stops abruptly and drops the rag he had been using to dust himself free of flour. His hair is longer and he's a bit thinner, but he's Peeta. A cane is clutched in his right hand but he doesn't move.

I have never felt so small.

"Hey." I clear my throat. "I should have called." I shake my head and mutter, "Of course I should have called. Many times." I'm about as coherent as Haymitch on a bender.

"I know you're ready to close for the day, but I wanted to stop by. To see you." I gesture in his direction. "You look great."

He stands there just looking. I'd almost rather he'd lash out at me and scream in my face. Call me the names I deserve to hear.

I can feel my pulse over every inch of my body, the thumping accentuating every moment of silence between us.

"I'm sorry, I should have given you more warning. I should have called. I'm sorry."

He's still standing there motionless, so I turn and run, the chime signaling my most recent exit.

Chapter Eleven Notes

29. BBC. Berkshire Brewing Company. Delicious, delicious beer.