AN: I figured you all have been waiting long enough for this chapter. I'm sorry that I haven't gotten around to answering everyone's reviews yet. I just haven't been myself lately, but I'll be chipping away at them as I can. Thank you all for your wonderful support. It means more to me than I can explain.
19 years old
"Babe, where's dinner?"
Katniss groans from where she lies in bed, feverish and aching from the flu or whatever germ of Satan that she came down with yesterday afternoon. She barely made it out of bed to check on her mother today, let alone to cook a meal that would almost certainly send her back to the bathroom for an hour while she puked her guts out.
Seneca walks into her bedroom, his cool eyes glancing over her before his lips curl back in disgust. "You look awful, Katniss."
"I feel awful," she rasps, her throat drier than a desert. She's heard this happens to new nurses; contracting all sorts of bugs during their first year working isn't unusual as they build immunity, but she never expected she would feel this close to death.
"You promised you would make dinner for us tonight," he reminds her, as if she didn't know that already.
"I know I did, but I – I can't, Seneca." Her eyes are getting heavy again despite the fact that she's already slept most of the day away. She mumbles, "I'm just too sick."
He gives an irritated snort as he runs a hand through his hair. "So you're telling me I drove all the way over here and you're not even going to get out of bed."
A pang of guilt twists inside her gut, or maybe that's just the flu rearing its ugly head again. She meant to text him and let him know that she was sick, but she had fallen asleep this morning and slept straight through the afternoon. In fact, this is the longest she's been awake since she fumbled around with her phone to call in sick to work when she woke up.
"Sorry," she whispers, looking up at him remorsefully. "You can stay for a while if you want."
He eyes her for a long moment before releasing a deep breath. "I can't. I have a lot of work to get done. I really was only coming over because you asked me to. I made time in my schedule, but now I have to go figure out what to do for dinner…" He trails off, giving her a meaningful look, one that reminds her she screwed up. Again.
Tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she feels so stupid. It's amazing that he's even still around with the shit she puts him through. He tolerates all the time she has to dedicate to taking care of her mother. He puts up with the days she can't see him because she has to go to Prim's parent teacher conferences. All he asks is that she doesn't waste his time, and she can't even get that right.
"I've got to go." He shrugs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He presses a quick kiss to her sweaty forehead, cringing slightly as he pulls away. "You'll just owe me one."
Katniss nods, biting her bottom lip as she watches him walk out of her bedroom and show himself out. Tears slip slowly down her cheeks and she wonders how much longer he'll stick around.
She needs him.
He was her saving grace when they met at the local community college while she was finishing up nursing school. They would spend long nights while he quizzed her over the new diseases she learned in class. She gave him her virginity the night she realized she was in love with him. He can still make her smile when she doesn't screw things up like she did today. He loves to go shopping for her, give her all kinds of beautiful things he knows she could never afford. Now that she's practicing in the hospital, he listens patiently while she tells him about her day. She doesn't know how she ever made it all of these years without him by her side and to do so now, to care for her mother and her sister alone, is unimaginable.
Prim walks in a short while later with a bowl of homemade soup—tomato—because she knows Katniss can't stand chicken soup when she's sick. She frowns when she sees the blatant streaks where tears have stained her older sister's face.
"I made you something to eat," the slight, blonde girl murmurs as she settles down in bed alongside Katniss. "Are you hungry?"
Katniss shakes her head, her stomach churning angrily as the scent of tomato soup hits her nostrils. Prim nestles in closer to her older sister, apparently unfazed by the flu raging in the older woman.
"Why are you crying?" she asks softly, her blue eyes holding Katniss's hazy grey ones.
"I messed up again," she admits, sounding entirely too defeated for a 19-year-old woman. "He was angry with me; I could tell. What if he leaves, Prim?"
Her blue eyes flash with anger as she grips Katniss's hands tightly between hers. She knows exactly who Katniss is talking about. "He's an ass."
"Prim!" she begins to reprimand, but the younger girl shakes her head forcefully.
"It's true, Katniss," she argues. "You'd be so much better off without him."
"How could you say that?" Katniss demands heatedly. Prim knows how she feels about Seneca. "He's stayed with me even after I told him about Mom. That has to mean something, Prim. I just keep doing stupid shit to make him angry."
"The only stupid thing you're doing is staying with him," her younger sister mutters under her breath, but Katniss hears her loud and clear; she just doesn't believe her.
…
"Don't answer that," he grumbles, pulling the phone from her grasp and guiding her head back down to where she was attending to him before it started ringing.
"It might be my mom," she says, slightly breathless, reaching out a hand to take the phone from him.
He rolls his eyes. "Fine." Chucking the phone at the foot of the bed, he throws his legs to the side of the mattress and makes his way towards the bathroom connected to his bedroom. "I'll just take care of this myself." He nods towards his erection, anger clearly evident in the look he shoots her.
Katniss quickly crawls to where the phone landed on the bed and she gives him desperate look. "Just give me one minute. I just want to make sure everything is okay and then we can finish. I'll make it up to you." Her voice holds a pleading tone, but he isn't listening to any of it as he shakes his head before slamming the bathroom door and starting the shower.
She lets out a shaky sigh as her finger hits the answer button. A voice begins speaking before she can even say hello.
"Katniss, I need help." Her heart pounds furiously against her chest and she's up in an instant, searching for her bra that Seneca tossed somewhere in the room when they frantically stripped one another earlier in the evening.
"What is it?" she asks her younger sister, slipping her arms through the straps of her simple white bra once she finds it hanging off the edge of his desk.
"It's Mom." Prim's voice is high-pitched and frantic, a sure sign that something really is wrong. It takes quite a bit to get her younger sister frazzled. "She went to the casino again. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen. She said she's lucky tonight and she's not coming home until she wins."
Katniss closes her eyes and presses her fingers against them as she sighs. She had been suspicious that her mother was having another manic episode, but up until today she had been unsure. This clears away any doubt though. Her mother never gambles when she's not manic.
"I know you were supposed to be spending the night with Seneca," Prim continues when Katniss doesn't respond, "but they won't let me in the casino because I'm not eighteen and I already tried calling Uncle Haymitch, but he left for the bar hours ago and he's not answering, and Gale isn't answering either." Her words begin to run together at the end as she tries to fit them all in one breath. Katniss can tell that her little sister really does feel terrible. Even if she probably doesn't mind ruining Seneca's night, Prim is forever begging Katniss to get out of the house and do something fun. Of course, this is the sort of thing that happens when she does leave the house for more than an hour to do anything fun.
"It's alright, Prim," she sighs. "I'll go get her. You just wait at home, okay? Did you get the paper finished that you were working on?"
"No." She can almost hear Prim roll her eyes, as if this is the last thing they should be worrying about, but Katniss does worry. She wants her little sister to do well in school; if anyone deserves to do well in life, it's Prim.
"Well, you work on that and I'll be home before you know it," Katniss reassures her, stumbling as she tries to put her pants on with a single hand before hanging up with Prim.
The water from the shower cuts off, and Seneca walks out of the bathroom a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his waist. Katniss sloppily tugs on her favorite green tee, messing her braid up in the process. He stares at her blankly, his gaze cold as it holds hers.
"You're leaving?" he asks, but the way he says it makes it sound a lot like an accusation. "What happened to making it up to me?"
"I will," she cringes as she crosses the room and he turns his cheek to her when she moves to press her lips to his. "I promise, Seneca, I will. I just need to go and get my mom—"
"You've got to be kidding me!" he laughs harshly. "This is supposed to be the one night this week that we get to spend together and you're going to run off?"
"My mother is sick," she replies weakly, ducking her gaze to where she is wringing her fingers nervously. "You know that."
He shrugs, the movement sharp and jerky, his eyes wide with disbelief and heated with anger. "Just leave her. Let someone else deal with her for once!"
She feels sick, and she presses a hand to where her stomach has twisted itself into knots. Tears burn behind her eyes and she bites the inside of her cheek, praying that she doesn't cry. Seneca hates it when she cries.
"I can't." Her words are heavy on her tongue, and she doesn't sound like herself, choked with emotion as she is right now. "There isn't anyone else."
"Well—" He throws his hands up, causing her to jump back in surprise, "—if you walk out of this apartment right now, I wouldn't plan on coming back."
His words suck all of the air from her lungs. "What?" She wheezes once she manages to take in a shallow, strangled breath. Why does it feel like she's just been kicked in the gut?
"You heard me," he replies coolly, crossing his arms over his bare chest, the chest she has fallen asleep on for more nights than she can count. This can't be happening. "I'm done with this, Katniss. It's too much. You're nineteen. You shouldn't be burdened down like this. I didn't sign up for all of your baggage."
"Seneca, please," she begs, her heart, which never truly healed after her father's death, shatters into tinier fragments than she ever thought possible, turning to dust.
"I'm sorry for you, Katniss," he says, running a hand through his hair and letting it come to rest on the back of his neck. "Really I am because I don't see how you're ever going to end up with anyone. It's just not worth being with someone who is so unavailable."
He might as well have slapped her across the face. She stands, staring at him like some lost, pathetic puppy, which is exactly how she feels. She's not worth it. They've been together for two years, and he finally realized that she's not worth all the stress that she brings with her.
"Seneca," she reaches out, her voice breaking as she places her hand to his chest, pleading, "I promise, if you just give me an hour, I can be back here and it will be like—"
He shakes his head, removing her hand from where it rests. "No. It's done. I'm done. We're over."
Her tears spill over as he turns away from her and heads back to the bathroom, still steamy from his brief shower. Something snaps inside her when the door clicks shut and she hears him turn the lock. She throws herself against the door, pounding at it with her fist and sobbing, strangled breaths making her sound like a dying animal.
"Please," she begs, the word just a painful moan. "Seneca, please, don't do this. Let me make it up to you."
He doesn't answer, and she claws desperately at the handle of the door, praying that the lock will break and she will be able to see him one last time. She knows if she could just wrap her arms around him, give herself to him again, he would change his mind. He's always happiest with her when they've just made love.
The handle twists beneath her hand, and she nearly falls flat at his feet when the door opens. His eyes are wide as he bends down to her crumpled form in the door jam.
"What is wrong with you?" he hisses. His face doesn't look like the man she's come to love in the two years they've been together. This man is a stranger, and it scares her how quickly the man she knew has disappeared. "You sound like your mother during one of her fucking phases! Is that what you want—to turn into your mother?"
His words burn her, stamped in her mind forever, etched into the very matter that makes up her brain. Is that really what he thinks? He was always kind when he interacted with her mother, which was rare, but still, he never said anything so cruel before.
She stands slowly, trying to take deep, steady breaths through her sobs, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. He watches, but doesn't move to comfort her, his eyes like ice on her skin. Stumbling towards the door, she barely makes it into the hall when she hears him call out to her already retreating form.
"You know I was only with you because you were such an easy lay, Katniss. It was never about loving you."
As she quietly makes her way out of the apartment building, it's as though the slight breeze making its way down the street of the city scatters the tiny bits of her heart that are left. Her tears dry, but she is empty. A part of her is dead as she starts her car and pulls out into traffic towards the only casino within a fifty-mile radius. She knows she'll find her mother there and hopefully the older woman won't have blown all of the family savings by the time Katniss manages to drag her home.
…
Present
Katniss jumps out of the car before Peeta even has a chance to park. She stumbles her way onto the sidewalk and sees Haymitch's station wagon is parked in front of the house. The front door is still ajar when she reaches it.
"Mama?" she calls out, her voice hoarse with fear. She doesn't breathe, can't breathe, until she hears Haymitch's gravelly voice coming from upstairs.
"Lil, did you take anything?" he asks softly and far more gently than he normally speaks. Katniss rounds the corner to her mother's room and finds the pair on the ground, her mother huddled up and staring blankly into space while Uncle Haymitch is kneeling in front of her, a knife that Katniss recognizes from the kitchen in his hand.
"Where are the pill bottles?" Katniss demands, and Haymitch points to the pile of them on the bed, nearly obscured by the piles of pillows her mother insists on sleeping with.
"Is she alright?" she asks as she quickly begins opening bottles and counting pills. Ever since she was old enough to open the childproof containers, Katniss fell into a habit of knowing exactly how many pills her mother should have left in each container. A part of her has always been terrified that her mother would try to overdose again like she did all those years ago while her father was still alive.
"She cut her arms, but she won't let me touch them." Haymitch explains, his voice strained with worry. "I don't think they're very deep, but they sure as hell are bleeding."
Katniss counts out the last bottle, and all the pills are there. She lets out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding before rounding the bed and attempting to pull her mother's wrists away from her chest to inspect the damage.
"STOP IT!" Lily shrieks the second Katniss touches her. "Leave me alone! Just let me die!"
"Mama, please," she begs desperately. "You don't mean that. It's just a bad week."
"It is not," her mother hisses vehemently. "I want to die. I don't want to be here like this anymore."
A large, warm hand lands on her shoulder and Katniss's gaze snaps up to find Peeta standing beside her wearing the calm, neutral expression that every doctor in the world seems to master before graduating medical school.
"Mrs. Everdeen," he says slowly as he kneels down in front of the frail, blonde woman. "My name is Doctor Mellark and I'd really like to take a look at your arms. Would you please let me see them?"
Katniss shifts out of the way before sitting on the carpet near her mother, allowing Peeta room to step closer to the injured woman. He moves slowly, as though approaching a frightened animal, but when he reaches for Lily Everdeen's wrists, she quickly turns away from him, holding them even more tightly to her chest.
"I don't need your help, doctor," she mutters, her withdrawn gaze settling on the ground between them.
"Mama—" Peeta raises a finger to his lips to quiet Katniss. She presses her lips together, swallowing back the desperation bubbling up inside of her.
"Mrs. Everdeen, I really don't want to call an ambulance, and I won't have to if you let me take care of those cuts, but I can't just leave you here like this," Peeta explains softly. "Please. Your daughter asked me to help you. She needs you. Will you allow it? Can you let me help you for Katniss?"
Her pale eyes lift to meet his vivid ones and she gazes skeptically at him for a long, silent moment before nodding. Peeta lets out a slow breath, easing a hand forward to reach for hers.
"Thank you," he murmurs, though to whom his words are directed remains a bit of a mystery.
Lily lets him inspect the damage she's done, and Katniss's stomach twists at the long, jagged lines that run the length of her forearms. Haymitch was right, they don't look overly deep; the kitchen knife was probably too dull to cut through the pale, delicate flesh effectively, but that doesn't mean there isn't plenty of blood.
Katniss deals with blood at work all day, but there's something about seeing the blood of someone you care about, someone you are supposed to protect, that still causes her nerves to fray. She's failed her mother. She is worthless.
"These need to be stitched up," he states softly, focusing on the broken, blonde woman before him.
"No!" her mother spits, eyes growing wide. "I won't go to the hospital. Not again."
Katniss cringes. Ever since her mother's first suicide attempt, the older woman has refused to go to any hospital. It's why Katniss has always paid the extra cost of a private psychiatric facility.
Peeta doesn't seem bothered by this; he simply nods slowly, as though thinking up another plan. "Well," he muses after a few minutes, "I won't take you to the hospital. It will just be a doctor's office, and it will be empty since it's after hours."
Lily hesitates, and Katniss is sure that her mother is going to turn down this idea as well. Right when the older woman opens her mouth to speak, Peeta gives her hand a little squeeze.
"Let me help you for your daughters, Lily," he pleads.
Her mother's demeanor changes once he speaks, and pale blue eyes search out her grey ones. Katniss blinks quickly, trying to banish the tears that are gathering in her eyes as she looks at her frail mother. Lily doesn't look away from Katniss when she nods. "Okay. But no hospitals."
"No hospitals," Peeta repeats reassuringly as he helps her to her feet. He turns to Haymitch, who has remained unnaturally silent during the entire exchange, observing the scene clinically from the foot of the bed. "Are there any clean towels around that we can wrap her arms in during the drive?"
"I've got it," Katniss says, her words breathy as she darts from the room to the tiny linen closet down the hallway. When she returns, Peeta takes them from her hands and sets to wrapping her mother's arms snuggly, but Katniss doesn't miss the quizzical gaze that Haymitch shoots her.
"I'll drive," Haymitch offers without preamble. He leads the way to the same beat-up station wagon he's had since she was just a child. She notices the way he keeps looking at Peeta and her mother through the rearview mirror during the ride.
"A left up here and it's the first office building on the right hand side," Peeta says softly from the back seat. The ride has been quiet; Haymitch refuses to listen to "that crap music" on the radio. To emphasize his point, he'd pulled the radio receiver out of his dashboard one afternoon when Katniss was seventeen and he has never bothered to replace it.
"Where are we?" the older man questions now as they pull to a stop along the curb. The office building is one of the newer ones in town, but nondescript.
Pulling out a little golden key, Peeta leads them around the side of the building and unlocks a metal door. "The office on Floor Three belongs to Dr. Aurelius. Sometimes I help him out when he has an overflow of appointments so he gave me a key in case I need to get in before or after office hours."
This explanation seems to appease Haymitch and the rest of their short journey upstairs is silent. Peeta places a gentle hand between Lily's shoulders once they enter the darkened waiting area, and Katniss is surprised that her mother doesn't flinch away from his touch as she so often does with Katniss. Something about the sight stings.
He glances back at Katniss, fixing her with a look that makes her fidget with the hem of her shirt. She's not sure what to make of it. Does he already realize that this is all too much? Is he planning how he's going to tell her that he didn't bargain for this? Katniss imagines he's torn and searching for the nicest way to break the news to her; Peeta is nothing but kind.
The door to the exam room closes a split second before the interrogation she has been expecting from Haymitch begins. She can feel his grey eyes boring into the back of her head as she resolutely stares at a poster for the pneumonia vaccine.
"When were you planning to share with the rest of the family that you have a boyfriend, sweetheart?" His voice is lilting, as though he finds something about this fucked up situation humorous.
Anger heats her veins and she knows the tips of her ears are probably turning pink. Haymitch has always known which buttons to push to get under her skin instantly.
"Or did you learn that lesson the hard way last time?" he adds when she doesn't respond right away. Katniss turns to face him, finding him leaning up against one of the grey office walls. "Were you going to hide everything from him in hopes that he might actually stick around?"
"Shut up, Haymitch, or I'll make sure you're incapable of speaking," she hisses under her breath.
He snorts, breaking into a lopsided grin when he realizes that this could be an amusing game while they wait. Katniss scowls back at him, crossing her arms over her chest.
"This one's good looking. And he has a decent job," he points out appreciatively, as if Katniss cares about his opinion. "Have you let him in your bed just like the others? What was the first one's name again? Sene—"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" she shouts, throwing him up against the wall, pinning him there with her forearm as she brings her face within inches of his own. "Or you might be the next one in need of stitches."
"I'm just saying, sweetheart," Haymitch wheezes, undeterred by her show of aggression. "You don't have the best track record with choosing men. What's his flaw? If you haven't found it yet, you might have a problem on your hands."
"He's not like Seneca was," Katniss whispers, trying to reassure herself as much as Haymitch. "Peeta is a good guy. He likes me."
"You thought that about Seneca too, Katniss." His grey eyes meet with hers, and she can tell he's only trying to look out for her in his own twisted way, but anger continues to boil inside of her anyway. "If you don't think that you're just as fragile now as you were then—"
"This is nothing like that." Katniss worries her bottom lip with her teeth, trying not to let the deluge of emotions surrounding everything to do with Seneca Crane break free.
"Isn't it though, sweetheart?" Haymitch's voice is somber now, and she can see the concern clearly evident in the look he gives her. "Your mom has been pretty sick lately. Are you sure you didn't rush into this relationship?" He glares at her when she opens her mouth to protest. "Don't try and lie about it. I can tell when you're in deep. I saw the way you two looked at each other."
Her nostrils flare as she takes several deep breaths, though whether to hold back tears or more screaming she can't be sure. She hates that Haymitch can pin her down so easily, as though she's some sort of open book. He's one of the only people in her life capable of doing so, and she suspects it's because she is so much like her father—his brother.
All at once, she feels like that same little girl that he had to drag out of the bathroom stall after finding out about her dad. The same girl that he held in his arms when came home one night to her crying with a broken heart. He watches her silently, waiting. If there is one thing the Everdeen bloodline has a plethora of, it's stubbornness. She doesn't doubt for a second that Haymitch will continue to stare at her until she gives him an answer.
"I think it might be for real," she whispers shakily, the adrenaline from the night wearing away and leaving her drained. "I think he really does care about me."
A boney hand comes to rest on her upper arm and she meets his silver-eyed gaze. "Just promise me you'll drop him if he starts to act like Seneca did with you. I know you'll deny it to your grave, but he was abusive, sweetheart. And the next time you're with a boy like that, I'll shoot him."
Katniss gives a tearful, bark of a laugh as she quickly dries her eyes. God forbid Peeta walk out here to find her crying for the second time in twenty-four hours.
"You don't even have a gun," she points out, her voice slightly squeaky as she speaks, but Haymitch just gives her a crooked grin, his eyes glinting deviously.
"Doesn't mean I don't know where to find one," he says easily. "And if all else fails, I'm a damn good knife thrower."
They fall into silence, and Haymitch flips disinterestedly through an old magazine that he found sitting on a side table in the waiting area. Katniss can't sit still so she paces slowly around the room, trying not to imagine what reaction Peeta might have.
It's not all that long before her mother walks through the door, her head ducked so she doesn't have to make eye contact with anyone as she passes towards the exit of the office. Peeta follows behind her, and he doesn't hesitate to meet Katniss's gaze. She shivers and looks away after seeing the disappointment lingering behind the dark frames of his glasses.
"I'm really sorry to do this," Peeta's voice carries softly from where he stands near the doorway, "but I got a page while we were in back. They need me at the hospital. Do you think you could drop me by on the way back to your place? I can figure out how to get my car later."
Katniss looks up to see him rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, the stress of the night clearly wearing on his body. It feels like there's a heavy stone rolling around in the pit of her stomach when she realizes what this means. He's going to leave. Things will never be the same. A cold sweat prickles at the back of her neck as Haymitch confirms that it would be no problem to stop by the hospital and drop him off. She follows silently, watching as Peeta patiently guides her mother back to the car, helping her duck her head as she settles into the cracked leather seat.
Katniss can't look at him as Haymitch navigates the empty streets of the city. She doesn't want him to see the way tears well up in her eyes before she can blink them away. She's a fucking mess.
When they arrive in front of the ER entrance to the hospital, Peeta climbs out of the car, opening the passenger side door where Katniss sits and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. His blue eyes search hers, and she has a nagging feeling that this very well might be her goodbye. She wonders if it was worse when Seneca yelled all those horrible things at her. At least then she had reason to hate him, which she can't bring herself to do with the man in front of her.
"I'll call you," he murmurs before hurrying into the hospital.
She isn't going to count on it though.
…
"Katniss." The lilting, singsong voice wakes her in a haze as heavy feet cross her carpeted floor. The bed shifts and creaks under newly added weight.
"Hmpf," she grumbles against her pillow, burying her face deeper against the soft linen. She's too damn tired for conversation right now. Haymitch had helped her get her mother into bed just as dawn was blushing on the horizon. She had collapsed into bed not long after, Haymitch's promising that he would be by to check on them later in the morning.
When a pair of lips grazes her shoulder where it isn't covered by her thin tank top, her eyes snap open instantly. She blinks furiously against the bright, early-afternoon light. Peeta wears a gentle smile as he looks down at her through with those pure, blue eyes that leave her heart beating rapidly against her chest as though she's just been running rather than sleeping.
"Hey," he greets quietly, one of his hands moving to brush her dark hair back over her shoulder. When she doesn't speak and simply stares up at him with wide eyes, he adds, "Sorry if I scared you. I rang the doorbell twice. Your mother let me in."
Katniss frowns; her mother never lets people in the house except when she brings home strangers during her manic phases.
"What are you doing here?" she asks, taking in the way the light burnishes his golden curls and the dark circles that hang under his eyes as a testament to his lack of sleep last night.
He chuckles before pressing his lips to hers briefly. He arches a brow. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Katniss almost fails to contain a bitter laugh at the question. How could he be so blasé about everything he saw last night? How could he sit here as though there were never any question that Katniss would wake up to him in her bed the day after he witness one of her mother's meltdowns?
"When we dropped you off, I just figured…" she trails off, unable to continue the thought because it aches inside her chest so sharply. If she says it out loud, it might become real, and she'd really like to keep him here for as long as possible, even if it's just for five minutes until he can tell her that this is all too much.
"You figured?" he prompts with a sweet smile when the silence begins to lengthen while he waits for her to complete the thought.
She reaches out, letting her fingers twist in the soft cotton of his shirt. He shivers slightly under her touch. Hesitantly, she raises her silver eyes to meet his gaze and takes a long, shaky breath. "That you'd leave," she finishes, the words soft and timid. "You wouldn't be the first to change your mind—to walk away."
Peeta's lips turn into a troubled frown, and he shifts closer to her, his body heat pouring off of him in welcome waves as she unconsciously leans in closer. His fingers wind themselves in her dark hair still matted and knotted with sleep.
"I'm not going anywhere, Katniss. I promised you that I wouldn't leave, and I meant it with everything inside of me," he says so assuredly that she has a difficult time doubting him. But last night was just a glimpse for him; he can't really know what he is getting himself into if he agrees to deal with this on a daily basis.
Katniss nestles her head under his chin, breathing in the familiar scent of him, trying to embed it in her memory in case she doesn't have the luxury of holding him close one day.
"How long have you been doing this on your own?" he questions as he lets his fingers run through her hair, massaging her scalp lightly as he goes.
Katniss's forehead scrunches as she glances up at him, her eyes already glazed and more relaxed than they were moments before. "I'm not alone. I have Haymitch and my sister."
"But they're not here with you all the time." His hands cup her cheeks gently as he holds her gaze to his. "How long have you been taking care of your mother?"
Tears burn her eyes and gather quickly, threatening to overflow as she shakes her head from his grasp, burying her face against his shirt again. She won't let him see her cry about this. She can't talk about this.
Peeta sighs heavily; he knows she's shutting him out again, and she can almost find it inside of her to care, but self-preservation has always been her foremost concern when it comes to this subject. If she lets him see how ugly everything is inside of her, how damaged and horrifically mangled she is, she is sure that he'll realize just how unattractive she is.
"I don't need help," she whispers, never moving from where she is buried against his chest. "I can do this on my own."
His hands splay out over her back, rubbing slow circles in the tense muscles beneath them. "I know you can, Katniss. I saw that last night, but how long have you been shouldering all of this?"
"If I wanted a therapist, I would have hired one," she spits back angrily, pushing away from him. In the back of her mind somewhere, she knows that he's just worried, that he isn't judging her or looking down on her for all of this, but concern is not an emotion that Katniss has seen much of in her life and she's not sure how else to handle it.
His arms remain locked around her waist, however, and he pulls her closer. "Just because you can doesn't mean you should. I'm not trying to be your therapist, but Katniss, handling this all by yourself is a lot. A lot. You know that. You see caregiver burnout every day at work."
"Why do you care?" she demands, the words sharp, but weaker than before. She can feel herself softening under his words. This is why he never struggles with his patients. His words are like spun gold; he knows what to say when and uses it to weaken her resolve.
He doesn't reply right away and Katniss hazards a glance up at him, instantly recognizing her mistake. What she sees in his gaze stops her heart. It's too much, and she's too afraid to let him in that deeply.
"Because I care a hell of a lot about you."
She draws a ragged breath, a shiver running through her every nerve. Then the tears spill over, and she doesn't know that they will ever stop again. Peeta pulls her to his chest, cupping her head in the palm of his hand as he makes soothing shushing noises and lets her cry with abandon.
She must fall asleep, because when she wakes up, her room is dark and it looks like late evening outside. Hands brush over the curve of her waist, and her eyes flutter open to find Peeta is still there. A crease is formed on his brow while he watches her, melting away the moment he sees she is awake.
"Welcome back, sleepyhead," he greets, and her lips begin to curl up in spite of the sinking feeling that is still very much present in the pit of her stomach. "How do you feel?"
She closes her eyes briefly before letting out a little moan. "Like a semi just hit me and then backed up to roll over me again."
Peeta bursts out in a rich laughter that inexplicably warms her as she burrows closer to him. "I guess that makes sense. With all the alcohol and then the running around town you did last night. Well, I took the honor of bringing us breakfast when I came this morning." He looks to the clock on her bedside table with a smirk. "It's not really breakfast time, but breakfast for dinner is always a great alternative."
Her stomach growls of its own accord and he chuckles, giving her a quick kiss before getting out of bed and grabbing a large paper bag from the floor that she hadn't noticed before.
"I'll be right back, just going to heat this up," he says before hurrying out of the room.
Katniss curls into herself, chilled without his heat to warm her bed. She's still stunned that he's here, that he's not angry, that he hadn't yelled at her once when she cried in front of him. It's all so disconcerting, but when she thinks about it, it's not. This is Peeta. The fact that she ever thought he would behave differently says more about her than about him.
Peeta returns a little while later, just when Katniss is afraid she's going to get lost inside the jumbled thoughts that tangle her mind. He no longer carries the paper bag, but a tray laden with several plates of steaming food. The cloud of rich, delicious scents hits her nose and she groans, sitting up against the headboard and making room for Peeta to settle in next to her.
"I figured you'd be hungrier than a few pastries could handle, so I made a couple things," he explains contentedly. The hot plate of eggs catches her eyes, and she remembers that her mother probably hasn't eaten today either.
She begins to slip out from under the covers with a groan.
"Where are you going?" Peeta smiles up at her, that same charming smile that first stole her breath away.
"I have to make sure Mom eats something and takes her meds," she says, but before she can even stand, his hand is around her wrist and tugging her back into bed.
"Your uncle came earlier this morning. He's looking after your mom." She settles back against the headboard with little protest, something about Peeta's soothing voice calms her. She trusts what he says. "You just stay right here and let me take care of you for once."
She snorts softly, reaching for a slice of bacon from the pile on the plate next to the eggs. "Just as long as you don't try to spoon-feed me, I'll allow it."
He grins happily, reaching for a golden-topped roll, still steaming slightly from when Peeta warmed it. It smells delicious and she takes it without protest, biting into it with a moan as the flavors hit her tongue.
"What is this?" she asks through a mouth full of sharp cheese and soft, flaky bread.
"A cheese bun," he answers, his smile broadening when he takes in the delighted look on her face. "My dad owns a bakery. Those are a top seller. It's got a secret family recipe and everything."
"Oh." She looks down at the bit of bun that she hasn't managed to stuff in her mouth yet. "I didn't know you could bake."
"There's a lot about me you don't know yet, Katniss." His voice is deeper than usual as he speaks, and she blushes at the heat that builds between her thighs. "Just like there's plenty I still don't know about you," he finishes and she glances up at him, popping the last of the delicious cheese bun past her lips.
He takes a bite of some pastry that looks as though it has raspberry swirled into it, and she's filled with the urge to kiss him to see if she's correct about the flavor. His tongue peeks out just past his lips to catch a stray flake of the buttery delicacy.
"I was seventeen," she whispers breathlessly, unable to tear her gaze from his own despite her horror that the words have managed to slip past her lips. Peeta frowns, confusion sparking in his eyes, so she adds, "You asked how long I've been doing this on my own. I was seventeen when my dad died."
Peeta's blue eyes widen in surprise, stunned speechless, and the silence between them drags on and Katniss can't stand it so the words start flowing forth before she can stop them. She's not sure if she wants to stop them.
"Uncle Haymitch came to live with us so we didn't get put into foster care. Mama couldn't take care of us, everyone knew that much, but dad's death tore Haymitch up. He drank a lot; he wasn't around much. Prim was too little to help. She didn't understand everything that was going on, and she would get so upset when things got bad with Mama.
"So I learned how to take care of them all. Except I keep screwing up, just like last night, and I'm so afraid that one of these times I'll mess it up too big and something will happen that I can't fix. I'm useless when it comes to my own family," she finishes in a tiny voice, so quiet she wonders how Peeta can even hear her, but he does. She can tell by the look on his face, one of complete disbelief and subtle horror, that he heard every word as though she shouted them. She is silent, her mind frozen as the memory of Seneca's words echoes through her mind. They're all still there, still burned into her, old scars that won't keep quiet. She's not worth all of this. She'll end up just like her mother. She's just an easy lay.
Peeta leans forward, his mouth meeting hers as he gently sucks on her bottom lip, and she is lost. Her mind goes quiet and the only thing she can focus on is him, Peeta, the man who continues to surprise her in every way.
The tray of cooling food is quickly forgotten and her arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling her closer to him as she tries to breath in his very essence, afraid that if she lets go for a single second, all of this—he—will disappear. His tongue sweeps along the seam of her lips and she moans, parting her lips so his tongue can meet with hers.
She turns, moving a leg over his hips and settling to straddle his lap while his hands slide lower on her waist, pulling her hips closer to his own. She feels him against her through the thin fabric of her sleep shorts, and a shockingly pleasant chill runs through her body. She rocks her hips against him and he groans loudly, pulling away and gasping for breath.
"You are beautiful," he rasps, raising a slightly shaky hand and running it through her dark hair. She doubts she's beautiful, especially after all of her crying, but he seems so sincere. A smile pulls at her lips and she leans in to kiss him again, but he continues before she can. "You are so brave and strong. You love fiercely and you don't even realize that not everyone would give everything you do."
She fidgets uncomfortably, her gaze flitting from his face to the bed. Her cheeks flush and Peeta smiles brightly. She loves his smile, perhaps more than anything else she's ever seen, and it makes her giddy to know she can cause it.
"You are so special," he whispers in that same, choked voice as he cups her face in his hands, "And if I'm not careful. I think I run a very real risk of falling in love with you."
Katniss is certain that she's not breathing anymore. How did she find this man? Why doesn't he run away like everyone else has?
"And, Katniss?" He pulls her attention back from the deluge of questions that burden her mind. She blinks up at him and watches a sweet smile spread across his lips, and he pushes the dark frames of his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Happy birthday. Sorry I missed it yesterday."
She lets her forehead fall to rest against his, contented and full of a warm feeling that reminds her an awful lot of love, but today she doesn't want to think about all that that might mean. She just wants to let Peeta hold her. And that's exactly what she plans to do for as long as he'll have her.
AN: Please feel free to let me know what you thought of the chapter. It means so much to hear from my readers. A huge thank you goes out to Court81981 for her magnificent beta work.