~*~Chapter 6~*~
"Okay, are you guys ready?" Madge calls from the fitting room. Squeals of "yes" come in unison from the assembled bridal party.
Katniss, however, remains silent. It's not that she doesn't want to see Madge in her wedding dress. It's just that she's been struggling for the past twenty minutes to keep her mind on the present task—their final dress fittings—and not on the note she found on the floor of her hotel room: Its veiled reference to her mother's murder and its grisly threat of more violence to come.
Her mother's killer is back on Panem Island too—unless he or she never left in the first place. Katniss shudders.
The bridal consultant draws back the fitting room's heavy curtains and Madge steps into view.
"Omigosh! You look like Cinderella!" Delly cries and claps her hands.
Katniss doesn't like agreeing with Delly Cartwright, but she has to concur that Madge does look like a princess. But then again, Madge looks like a fairytale character when she's in everyday clothes.
The wedding gown is very Madge. It's strapless but still manages to be demure and conservative. The bodice is appliquéd lace with tiny pearls and some kind of sequin that sparkles when it catches the light. It hugs her slender figure through the bust and waist, where it yields to a full silk skirt with a long train.
"Let's see it with the headpiece. Hold still," the consultant commands. Madge obediently stoops down while the consultant adjusts the tiara atop Madge's head. "Of course you'll have the veil attached and it will be easier to secure this when your hair is in the updo."
"Right," Madge murmurs. "So…I was thinking of leaving my hair down. Gale—my fiancé—he likes it down."
"Definitely not," Effie, the wedding planner, admonishes. She shakes her head and clucks her tongue. "No, no, no. You're going with the updo. The last thing you want is limp hair with this summer humidity. Hubby will have your hair down for the next 50 years." She turns her attention to the rest of the girls. "Bridesmaids, come come. You." She points at Annie. "You're first."
Effie's eyes suddenly narrow and flit from girl to girl. "Wait. Are we missing one?"
"Glimmer will be here any minute," Madge assures her. Effie purses her lips, looking perturbed and unconvinced, and she mutters something about responsibility and "kids these days."
As if on cue, Glimmer strides through the doors of the bridal salon.
"Well, that is something I never thought I'd have to do." She sighs dramatically and shoves her enormous sunglasses up onto her head. Her eyes are visibly swollen and flecked with patches of red.
"You were there for a long time," Clove says.
Glimmer accepts a glass of champagne from a salesgirl and heaves another sigh. "I know. They asked a lot of really ridiculous questions."
"They can't really think you had anything to do with Cato's death," Delly pipes up. "It had to be a formality, because you're his ex and all."
And you were technically the last person to see him alive, Katniss thinks. She vividly recalls Glimmer storming in from the balcony last night. And just minutes before Cato's body was discovered in the bushes Glimmer had been telling Katniss all about the argument she had been having with Cato on the balcony, how he had been badgering her to get back together with him and how Glimmer wasn't having it.
"Of course they don't think I had anything to do with it," Glimmer replies. "They just have to do the cop thing and interview anyone who ever had anything to do with Cato. I know exactly what happened: The asshole was drunk off his ass and he fell off the balcony." Glimmer's eyes start to get watery, and she sniffles. "I just can't believe he's dead." She bursts into tears again. Delly rushes to wrap her arms around Glimmer.
Katniss feels her stomach pitch and roll as she closes her eyes and the words swim in her vision: Time to finish what I started.
There's no way Cato's death was an accident. Drunk or not. And she knows she has to go to the authorities and tell them why she knows that. Another wave of nausea crests.
"You're really quiet, Katniss," Madge says, concern heavy in her blue eyes. "Are you okay?"
"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine." Katniss forces a smile and plays with the stem of her champagne flute. "Just thinking."
"About your mom?" Clove says.
"Clove!" Madge hisses. "Jesus!"
"What?" Clove retorts. "I didn't mean—"
Katniss holds up her palm and tries to muster another smile. "It's fine, Madge. I promise. I know everyone here knows about my mom. And yeah, it's hard not to think about what happened to her and that's why I don't generally come back here."
"I wasn't trying to be cruel," Clove interjects. "I swear. I just meant it because of the circumstances. Cato dying. There's no way it's not bringing up bad memories." There appears to be genuine sympathy etched across Clove's face. Katniss nods.
"Yes, but no more than usual," she replies. Far from the truth, but there is no way she's bringing up the newspaper clipping from the day she arrived and this morning's note. Not to these girls. Not to anyone—at least until she's talked to Sheriff Abernathy.
And then thankfully, Annie peers out from the fitting room, her right arm braced across the top of the strapless gown.
"I, um, need some help zipping it up," she calls.
"Well, come, come!" Effie motions for Annie to exit the dressing room. Annie obediently shuffles forward. Her spine stiffens and she goes still as Effie wrestles with the zipper. The bridal consultant frowns.
"Careful! We don't want to damage anything!" she chides Effie. "Why don't you let me try?"
Katniss watches Annie carefully as the two women tussle over the zipper. Her pale cheeks are flushed and her breathing has clearly accelerated, given the slight but rapid movement of her chest. She looks panicked.
And Katniss doesn't know how else she knows in that moment, but she does. Her gaze darts to Annie's midsection, which looks as flat as ever. When she glances back up to Annie's face, Katniss sees confirmation in Annie's green eyes.
"The wedding is in two days!" Effie snarls. "How much weight have you gained since the last fitting?"
"Effie!" Madge exclaims, her eyes rounding in horror.
"I'm p-pregnant," Annie sputters.
The room goes dead silent. Glimmer's sobs cease immediately. And then it seems like everyone talks at once.
"Pregnant?"
"Omigod!"
"How long have you known?"
"Does Finnick know?"
Katniss looks directly at Annie and silently mouths, "Congratulations." She doesn't know Annie that well, but it's what she'd want if she were in Annie's shoes. Annie gives her a grateful smile and exhales.
"I'm only about eight weeks along," Annie admits. "I wasn't going to tell anyone until after the wedding. I didn't want to hijack Madge's happy occasion."
"Oh my gosh, Annie! Don't be ridiculous!" Madge lunges forward and hugs Annie as best as she can while still wearing her voluminous wedding gown. "I'm so happy for you!"
The other girls finally echo their own congratulations, and Annie's smile broadens a bit.
"Finnick doesn't know yet either," she says. "I mean…we're engaged but not married, so I know my parents are gonna have a hard time with it at first. But Finn won't care. He started talking about kids the minute he put the ring on my finger." She laughs. "I know he's gonna be excited. It was more that I didn't trust him not to broadcast it to everyone."
"How has he not figured it out?" Delly muses.
Annie waves a hand down her torso. "I didn't think I'd gained any weight yet, but I guess I was wrong about that."
"It's your tits," Clove says. "They get bigger right away."
Katniss has to struggle to swallow her mouthful of champagne without choking on it. Clove is definitely one of the bluntest girls she has ever been around.
The consultant smiles wryly. "She's right. That's where the zipper is resisting. It will take some work, but rest assured, miss, we'll get the bust let out by the wedding."
"Thank you," Annie and Madge chorus, and then grin at each other.
"Okay, then, now that that's settled. Next!" Effie points to Delly, but then immediately shakes her head vigorously. "No! Wait!" Effie suddenly cries, pausing Annie in her tracks, as she holds up a swatch of fabric. "We forgot to check the length of your wrap."
Katniss catches Annie's eye and they exchange a look. No one had been a fan of the wraps when Madge had selected the bridesmaid gowns last summer. But Madge insisted that they'd look "classy" and "elegant" in the photos. All Katniss could think was it would look anything but classy if all the girls didn't hold them exactly the same way, at the same height, with the same amount of fabric draping downward. But Madge had thought of that and had each wrap custom trimmed.
Effie fusses with Annie's wrap, and when she finally has it where she wants it, she nods approvingly.
"Yes. Perfect. But you'll need to stay there so I have something to compare the next girl to. You." She motions to Delly. "Let's get you changed."
"Actually." Katniss stands and sets down her half-empty champagne glass. "Could I go next? I have a, ah, something I should probably take care of sooner rather than later."
"Are you sure you're okay?" Madge rests a hand on Katniss's forearm.
"Absolutely," she fibs, pasting on an artificial smile. "It's nothing to be concerned about. And I'll be at the pool party this afternoon, I promise."
Forty minutes later, Katniss pulls into the lot of the Panem Island Police Station. She was fortunate not to hit a bit of traffic, but she knows that's because it's a weekday. Tomorrow at this time, the one-lane highway leading to and from the island will be a congested mess.
She turns off the engine and heads inside. The syncopated hums of the window air-conditioners are the only sound, save for the clicking of the desk clerk's computer keys. The older woman looks up.
"Can I help you, young lady?" The clerk smiles kindly.
Katniss tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and glances around the tiny police station. It's gotten a bit of a makeover since the last time she was in here six years ago, but that doesn't prevent the visceral reaction her body has to the place. Her pulse has accelerated and her heart responds with more pronounced thumps. There's a tightening in her chest that she tries to ignore as she musters a smile for the older woman.
"Ah, yeah. I, um, need to see Sheriff Abernathy."
The woman gives her another smile, this one laced with sympathy. "I'm sorry, he's not here at the moment. He should be home sleeping after the shift he just pulled. Can I—"
"She can speak to me, if it's something important."
The voice freezes her momentarily, and then she twists slowly to face Dillon Mellark. She's never really stopped to consider how much Peeta resembles either of his brothers, but at the moment, she definitely sees it. The open hostility with which Dillon glares at her mirrors the way Peeta glowered at her outside his parents' deli the other day.
He nods once to acknowledge her. "Katniss."
"Di—Officer Mellark," she replies, catching herself. Not that she's ever been that close to Peeta's brother, but even if she was on friendlier terms with him, she owes him that formality in this context. He's at work.
"What can I do for you?" He crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb of his office.
"I, ah…nothing. It's…nothing." She makes the decision spontaneously. It's only Sheriff Abernathy she can talk to. Dillon wasn't on the force when her mother died; he was off at college. Only Haymitch knows what happened in her house on that awful night. She's not comfortable discussing the note and her fear that her mother's killer is back with anyone but Haymitch Abernathy.
"I'll come back another time, when Sheriff Abernathy is here. But thank you," she adds, offering a thread of a smile.
Dillon's blue eyes—colder than his brother's—narrow. "Are you sure?"
She nods. "I'm sure, yeah. I'll…I'll see you around…with the wedding and all, I guess."
She's almost through the door when she hears Dillon call her name again. She turns and she's stunned to find him just behind her. He places a hand on the small of her back and ushers her the rest of the way out the door.
Dillon glances back at the door, clearly to confirm it's closed, and then he steps away from her a few feet. Her stomach knots and apprehension prickles her skin despite the oppressive summer heat.
"I saw the way you were looking at my brother this morning," he accuses. "You know, before all the chaos."
Shit. Was she that transparent? No, she couldn't have been. She had barely glanced in Peeta's direction, other than the few stolen peeks when she had been reminiscing. And Dillon wasn't there then.
"I wasn't—"
He doesn't let her get any further. "Save it, Katniss. Do us all a favor. Stay the fuck away from Peeta. He's finally moved on. You fed him that bullshit about wanting him to be happy when you broke his heart, remember? So let him be happy. With Delly. Without you."
She sucks in a shuddering breath. Okay, she was not expecting this, even if Dillon is right. She does want Peeta happy. That's all she's ever wanted. In a perfect world, he'd be happy with her, but she's accepted that that is not possible. She let him go so he could be happy.
But Peeta deserves so much better than Delly. Or to have his heart broken again. She wishes she could somehow prevent that from happening, but her silence means Peeta might never find out Delly is sleeping around on him.
Dillon takes a menacing step back in Katniss's direction, his handsome face contorting with disgust. For a fleeting second, her eyes drop to the revolver in the holster at his waist, and she swallows.
"I mean it. Stay the fuck away from Peeta," he repeats.
She straightens her shoulders and tries to exude as much strength as she can in her voice as she replies. "I'm not here for Peeta, I swear. If it wasn't for Gale and Madge I would have never come back here. When the wedding is over, I'll be gone and I won't be back. Ever. I promise."
Dillon studies her critically, probably using his cop instincts to test the sincerity of her words. She must have convinced him; he gives a slight jerk of his chin. "Good. Because the last thing my family needs right now is to contend with another home-wrecking Everdeen."
Her spine stiffens. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Dillon spits onto the sidewalk and is silent for several seconds, as if weighing his words. "Your mother. She was no saint."
"W-who said she was? No one's perfect," she stammers.
"This whole fucking town sure thought she was." Dillon rolls his eyes. "And she got elevated to martyr status when she died. But no one—especially your dear old dad—would be so quick to think good of her if they knew what I know."
A sour taste floods her mouth and unease seeps into her veins. She's not sure she wants the answer, but she asks anyway.
"And what is it that you know?"
"Your mom. My dad," he replies. She gapes at him and tries to process the words. Dillon laughs bitterly and makes a crude gesture with his hands. "C'mon. You were always smart, Katniss. Connect the dots."
A rush of blood thunders in her ears. Nausea crests, and she presses a palm to her abdomen, willing her stomach to settle. She swallows hard to be sure no bile has crept up into her esophagus. Her throat stings.
"No," she chokes out. "Are you crazy? There's no way."
There's no way what Dillon is suggesting could be true. Her mother would have never done that. There was no way—none at all—that her mother had been cheating on her father. Not with Peeta's dad. Not with anyone. No. Never.
John and Lilly Everdeen had been happily married. Blissfully so. It had always grossed Katniss and Prim out that their parents would still hold hands in public. And Katniss had always tried to ignore the low moans and groans she could hear coming from her parents' bedroom at night. Their sex noises were part of the reason she was so paranoid about being quiet on those reckless nights she had snuck Peeta into her bedroom…
Katniss rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and waited for the heaviness to claim her eyelids and her body to slip into slumber, but it was in vain. She was wide-awake. Restless. She needed a release.
And it was Peeta's fault.
She hadn't seen him in three days. He had been gone all weekend, since Thursday, actually, to some high school in Greensboro, over five hours away, for the state wrestling tournament. Katniss had lobbied her parents to let her go, since this was the last states Peeta would be going to. She swore she wouldn't leave until after school that Friday, thinking that missing school would have been their biggest complaint, but they had refused to allow her to drive that far alone. She had been unsuccessful in her attempts to bribe Gale to go with her. (Okay, so maybe Madge's cousin's wedding in Hilton Head did take precedence.) And Peeta's parents—Peeta's mother, really—was not about to let Katniss hitch a ride with them. So she had to cheer Peeta on from afar, and she had promised him they'd celebrate him winning his weight class when he got back to Panem.
Peeta's parents had come back yesterday, after his final, but Peeta had stayed with the rest of his team and had ridden the bus back with them. He had called her before boarding the bus, to let her know they were on their way home, and he had told her he loved her—apparently within earshot of a few of his teammates. She heard them giving him shit when she disconnected the call.
Her father had been working, and she had been watching a movie with her mom and Prim, when her phone chirped and she saw Peeta's name on the screen. She had coughed violently, nearly choking on a mouthful of popcorn, when she read his message.
Peeta
I'm sitting on this bus with a fucking hard-on because I can't stop thinking about you.
Sent. 9:52 pm
Once she recovered from her coughing fit and hastily explained to her mom and Prim that a kernel had gone down the wrong pipe, she excused herself under the ruse of getting a glass of water.
Katniss
Good thing it's dark on the bus then.
Sent. 9:53 pm
She added that winky emoji and awaited his reply.
Peeta
Maybe we should ditch study hall second period tomorrow because I don't know that I can wait until after school to be inside you again.
Sent. 9:53 pm
It had devolved quickly from there. She didn't know how she still managed to be shocked by how filthy sweet Peeta Mellark could be when it came to sex, but god his mouth. Even on the phone screen she could hear his heated voice murmuring each wicked thing he said he was going to do to her when he finally got her alone. She wasn't nearly as proficient at dirty talk as Peeta was, but she had tried to keep up with him. Every subsequent message they exchanged got her hotter and wetter, until she was startled by her mother coming into the kitchen to deposit the empty popcorn bowl in the sink—and to check on her.
That had put an abrupt end to the sexting.
But by the time the movie ended and she had gotten ready for bed, her body was still humming with electric current. She hadn't gotten another message from Peeta; he must have gotten distracted by one of his teammates for the rest of the bus ride. She figured he was probably just getting back to the school.
She leaned across to her nightstand, fumbling for her phone. She tapped out a goodnight message to Peeta, telling him she hoped he'd arrived safely and that she couldn't wait to see him tomorrow morning. She clutched her phone for a few minutes, willing the screen to light with his reply. But it didn't. Disappointed, she set her phone down and flopped back onto her mattress. He was probably driving home, and Peeta, always the rule follower, never used his phone when he drove.
She huffed out a frustrated sigh and rolled onto her side. She didn't know how she was going to get to sleep with all the pent-up sexual energy coursing through her. She almost never got herself off anymore—not since she and Peeta had started having sex. And she probably should get a decent night's sleep—she had a physics exam tomorrow.
She bit her lip. This was ridiculous. Why was she even warring with herself over this?
A soft tapping drew her attention to her window. She frowned. Then it came again: Tap, tap, tap.
She scrambled to the end of her bed and peered out the window.
"Oh my god, Peeta!" she exclaimed and then immediately dropped her voice. She fumbled with the latch and slid the window up. "Are you crazy? What are—" The rest of her words were swallowed by Peeta's mouth as his hand snaked around her neck and drew her to him. His lips were cold, sending a tremor through her warm body, but his tongue was hot as it probed her lips seeking entry.
She reluctantly broke the kiss. Her lips tingled and their breath mingled in the space between them, white plumes suspended briefly before vanishing into the cold night. Peeta grinned at her.
"Hi."
Extending her hand out the window, she hissed, "It's freezing outside. Get in here."
She'd never been so happy for her family's one-story bungalow. She'd never be able to get to Peeta's window at his house, even though she was a decent climber. His room was on the second floor and the Mellark's two-story wraparound deck ended well before his window.
Peeta clambered through her window with ease, and Katniss moved to quickly shut it behind him—careful not to slam it. As she turned, he caught her around the waist and hauled her against him.
"Hi," he said again, running his thumb along her cheek. His other hand came up to frame her jaw.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered.
"I couldn't wait til tomorrow to see you. Sent my dad a text once we were back at the school. Told him I was home and went in through back so as not to wake them. And then I got in my Jeep and came right here." He angled her mouth up and claimed it with his. Katniss moaned into the kiss and slid her palms up the front of his varsity jacket, tugging at each snap as she went. She started to ease the jacket off his shoulders.
"Hold up," he mumbled against her lips, and he jammed a hand into one pocket. He pulled out a condom and gave her a grin full of heat and promise. "Can't forget that." He tossed the packet onto her bed and then helped her rid him of his jacket. It landed at his feet. He kicked it aside before sealing his lips to hers once more. His fingers started undoing the buttons on her pajama top.
"Missed you so fucking much." His nose brushed her cheek as his mouth trailed kisses along her jaw and throat. He suckled her neck lightly, and then bit more purposefully as he freed the last button and her top joined his jacket on the floor. "I don't think I want to be away from you that long ever again. Three days are too much."
"I missed you too," she whispered. His hands coasted up her bare stomach and covered her breasts. His thumbs found her nipples and she couldn't suppress a whimper, which sounded obscenely loud in the otherwise silent room.
"Shh. We are gonna have to be quiet tonight," he warned, right before his tongue flicked at one nipple.
"Easier said than done." She gasped as his mouth moved over to her other breast.
"Don't have much time either," he mumbled, kissing a path down her abdomen. He yanked both her pajama bottoms and panties down her legs. She stepped out of them and tamped down a moan when he briefly speared his tongue between her thighs.
"God you've never tasted so sweet. I imagined this all weekend," he said quietly as he rose back to his feet. "And it's good that you're already nice and wet for me." Her eyes wandered down to watch him undo his jeans and shuck off his boxer briefs. She bit her lip as his cock bobbed free. He stepped towards her and dipped his mouth to steal a quick kiss before reaching past her for the condom.
"Lie down," he commanded huskily as he tore open the wrapper.
Obediently she scooted back on her bed, wanting to watch him sheath himself. She couldn't wait for the day they didn't have to worry about condoms, but she was prolonging having that whole "sexually active" conversation with her mother.
Her stomach swooped and her breath hitched in anticipation as Peeta crawled over her and his warm weight of him covered her a moment later. He grinned down at her and rubbed his cock along her slit, then placed himself right where he needed to be. She moaned. He clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Shh," he crooned as he thrust into her.
Her cheeks flush at the memory. She shakes herself out of her reverie to find Dillon staring at her. Waiting for her response. He arches a brow at her.
"Our parents were not having an affair," she grits out. "My parents were happy." She presses her lips together so tightly a lance of pain shoots through them, wishing she could take that last part back. Peeta had told her many, many times how unhappy his parents' marriage was. But he had told her that in confidence, and it's wrong to throw that in Dillon's face because she is hurt and confused.
But if her words have any effect on Dillon, he doesn't react. He hocks another wad onto the sidewalk. "I know what I saw, " he says. "It's as vivid in my mind today as it was years ago. Your mother was most definitely having sex with my father. And I don't think it was a one-time thing. I'd bet they were still fucking when your mother was killed."
Katniss closes her eyes and tries to absorb the shock of all that Dillon is saying. The uneasiness amplifies along with her fear that he might be telling the truth. A frisson of discomfort crawls through her veins.
Peeta's dad was unhappy.
But what if…what if her mom wasn't as happy as Katniss thought she was.
"It's just not possible," she whispers, once she's opened her eyes again.
"Oh, it's totally possible," Dillon scoffs. "And it totally happened. So let's hope for your sake that the apple falls very far from the tree and you don't take after your slut mother. Peeta doesn't need to be led astray. He's always had a weakness for you."
It has to be the combination of the dizzying revelation and Dillon's taunt about her mother, but something in her snaps. She balls her fists and tries to channel her rage inward, but she hears the words leave her lips in a low growl.
"Maybe you should talk to Peeta's girlfriend, then, if you want to lecture someone about cheating," she accuses.
She has the satisfaction of stunning him into silence, at least for a moment. He freezes and his eyes probe hers. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he asks.
"Delly," she states. "Sweet, saintly Delly is cheating on Peeta." She doesn't know if Dillon will believe a word she says or what he'll do with the information, but she doesn't care. It's cathartic to get it off her chest, to say it aloud to someone. Even if that someone is Dillon Mellark.
Dillon snorts loudly. "You really are that desperate to claw your way back into Peeta's life, aren't you? There's no way Delly—"
"I know what I saw," she throws his words back at him. "And it just seems ironic, you, warning me about not coming between Peeta and Delly, when she's the one screwing around behind his back. Or she has at least once." She flashes Dillon a humorless smile. "She was definitely riding some guy who wasn't your brother down on the beach the other day, right by the cove."
"You're lying. Delly would never," he retorts. She shrugs.
"Believe what you want. Like I said, I know what I saw. Goodbye, Officer Mellark." And she turns and strides purposefully towards her Camry, not looking back once until she's safely settled in the driver's seat. As she starts the engine, she glances over to see if Dillon is still outside the station. He hasn't moved, but he's not looking in her direction. He's staring off in the distance, his phone now in his hand.
Katniss leans back against the seat and scrubs her hands over her face. She's sweating now, and she knows it's not just from the heat. She cranks the AC higher and angles the vent directly towards her. The nausea has dissipated, but there's still a boulder sitting in her stomach.
Her mother. Peeta's father.
It's just not possible—is it?
"Peeta, right?"
Peeta glides forward and the handle of the rowing machine goes slack before retracting into place. He looks up and finds a vaguely familiar face grinning down at him and a hand extended towards him.
"Marvel. Marvel James. I was in your brother Dillon's class at Panem, but you and I wrestled together for a year before I graduated."
Peeta remembers. He had made varsity wrestling as a freshman. Marvel's cocky attitude matched his moniker perfectly, though he was a mediocre wrestler at best. He hadn't been nice to the underclassmen either. Peeta suspected he had only escaped Marvel's only-funny-to-Marvel pranks because of Dillon. His brother and Marvel had run with the same crowd back in high school.
"Ah, right." Peeta pumps Marvel's beefy hand once. "How are you? You've, ah, bulked up a lot since then" He and Marvel had been in the same weight class in high school, but he estimates the guy must now outweigh him by 30 or 40 pounds. He's so muscular that veins bulge all over his biceps and forearms.
"Well, working out is my life," Marvel says nonchalantly. "I'm a personal trainer at Capitol Fitness—you know, on the mainland? But the inn commissions me in the summer to be available to the guests here. It's a rough life." He grins more broadly. "So what are you up to these days?"
"Oh, I'm a teacher at Panem High. And I help my parents out at their place in the summers."
"Right, right. They probably appreciate that, with your mom being sick again and all."
Peeta frowns. He's not sure how Marvel knows about his mother's illness. His parents haven't really been broadcasting news of the cancer recurrence. But it is a small island, and people do talk, so he figures Marvel must have heard it from someone—maybe even Dillon. He knows Dillon and Marvel still have a few friends in common, even if they're not particularly close anymore.
Talking about his mother has never been something Peeta enjoys, so he decides to change the subject entirely.
"So you're here for work, then. You're not here for the wedding," he says.
"Wedding? Oh that Undersee chick, you mean? Nah, I didn't know her at all. Plus Gale Hawthorne and I never got along." His grin shifts to a sleazy smile. "Though he done good. She's fucking hot. I mean, all of her bridesmaids are. A few of them were down here yesterday. Nice eye candy for a couple of days anyway." He pauses. "You hittin' any of that?"
"I, ah, have a girlfriend, but she is one of the bridesmaids," Peeta replies. He steps off the rowing machine, takes a wipe to clean it off, and then reaches for a towel. He's lost all motivation to finish his workout; he just wants to get away and remove himself from Marvel's presence. Maybe he'll just go for a run on the beach before the cocktail party later this afternoon.
"She from Panem?"
Peeta dabs the towel at the back of his neck and then lets it drape over his shoulders. "Yeah. Delly Cartwright."
Marvel releases an appreciative whistle through his front teeth. "Nice. She's got a great pair of tits. You know who else is smoking hot these days? That Everdeen chick—the one whose mom was murdered. I forget her first name, but I just saw her on my way down here and damn." Marvel pauses and cocks his head at Peeta. "Wait. Didn't you use to date her?"
"What? Oh, yeah, yeah, I did. All through high school." He ignores Marvel's crass assessments of his past and current girlfriend and focuses on something else he said. "You saw Katniss? Here?"
"Katniss! That was her name! Yeah, she was getting out of some beat-up clunker. I think she went towards the main stairwell. Probably going to her room. That dead body had to have freaked her out."
Peeta is thoroughly confused now. All of the bridesmaids are supposed to be at their final dress fitting, and then they're having lunch at some fancy café on the mainland.
So why is Katniss here?
He gives Marvel a forced smile and picks up his phone and water bottle from where he had set them next to the rowing machine. "Hey, it was good to see you, man. Maybe I'll see you around again this weekend. I gotta get going."
Once he's outside the inn's fitness center, he taps out a text to Delly, asking her how things are going and if she's still doing the dress thing. The three little dots immediately start moving, as he suspected they would. Delly is never far from her phone. He waits for her response.
Um, no, been done with dresses for a while now. At lunch. Just got our salads. Should be back at the inn by 2 to clean up.
Sent 12:34 pm
Peeta scans the message a second time, and then shoots her a quick reply that he'll see her when she gets back.
So all the ladies are at lunch—but Katniss is here.
And another realization hits him: Katniss is here, and Delly is not.
And as long as Katniss is here and Delly isn't, Peeta figures it's as good a time as any to talk to Katniss about those phantom emails and letters.
He glances down at his bare chest and decides to head back to his room to grab a shirt. He's not going to bother with a shower, since his workout was cut short and he'll only be changing into a swimsuit in a few hours. As he passes Katniss's door en route to his room, he pauses and listens carefully. He doesn't hear anything. Maybe Marvel was wrong.
But he figures there's no harm in trying. He hastens to his room, pulls a t-shirt on, and pads back down the hall to Katniss's room.
You can do this. You owe it yourself—and her—to do this.
Peeta takes a deep breath, ends his mental pep talk, lame as it was, and stares directly at the glass peephole at the center of the door. He gives a furtive look around, half expecting to see Delly's accusatory eyes watching him.
He definitely feels a twinge of guilt for going about things this way. But Delly has never been rational when it comes to Katniss, and it's just easier not to incur her wrath again. She had been livid last night when she had caught him merely looking in Katniss's direction.
Exhaling another calming breath, Peeta raps lightly on the door. His heart starts to knock erratically as he hears footsteps approach the door. He hears metal clinking and realizes Katniss has the chain across in addition to the door lock, which clicks a second later.
"Peeta." His name is barely audible on the tremulous breath Katniss releases. Her grey eyes are wide with a mixture of astonishment and apprehension, but he thinks there's a faint red tint to them. Has she been crying? Her lower lip trembles. She snares it quickly and tries to feign a smile but it never reaches her eyes.
And then his gaze flits downward and his lungs inflate involuntarily at the sight of Katniss's nearly naked body. She's wearing a simple black bikini that is actually fairly modest compared to what he's seen on the beach recently, but there's still a lot of her skin on display. And while he told her last night that she looked too skinny, he can't deny what incredible shape she's in. Her stomach is flat, her abs and legs toned, no doubt from all the running she says she does. He also can't help but notice that her breasts fill out the bikini top a tiny bit more than they did at eighteen. Her olive skin has a slight sheen to it and smells faintly of coconuts, probably from sunscreen.
Fuck. She's so goddamn gorgeous.
He draws in more oxygen to his lungs and wills his body not to respond to a sight he's been missing for six years—even if he can close his eyes at any moment and picture every inch of her body. He raises his eyes back to Katniss and finds her chewing on her lower lip, her grey eyes uncertain.
"I'm sorry, I was, ah, getting ready for the…the pool party, you know." She gestures down at herself. "But I can throw something on if—"
"No." He shakes his head. "Don't be silly. I, ah…it's nothing I haven't seen before."
Shit. Smooth, Mellark, he chides himself.
Katniss shifts uncomfortably on the balls of her feet but a sardonic smile lifts the right side of her mouth. "Yeah, I guess not," she says quietly. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, because of…you know…"
"Delly's not here," he finishes her thought for her. He can't resist prying a little. "But you are. So why aren't you at lunch with the rest of them?"
"Oh, ah, I had something I wanted to take care of." She takes a deep breath and for a brief moment, her expression seems pained. "But that didn't work out the way I expected, so I just came back here." She pauses. "What, um, what…what are you doing here? You, ah…you didn't want to be anywhere near me last night."
He feels a stab of guilt from the palpable hurt in her tone and recalls his harsh words from the previous evening, sees the hurt he put in her eyes. He clears his throat. "There's something I need to ask you. Can I come in?"
Katniss's lip trembles slightly. She doesn't respond immediately, as if she's weighing his request. But then she steps aside so Peeta can move past her. He's careful not to make contact with her as he enters the room, even if there's a part of him that wants to touch her so badly he'd be pathetic enough to do it accidentally.
He surveys the room. It's a stark contrast to his own: nearly spotless. The bed is made; the pillows neatly arranged. No drawers are open and the closet is closed. It's almost as if there's no one occupying the space.
Katniss watches him, expectantly but cautiously. He can tell by the rise and fall of her chest that her breathing is erratic. He feels another pang, this one in the center of his chest, that being in his presence has that kind of visceral effect on her, that he could make her this nervous or agitated. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the swells of her breasts as he drags his eyes up to meet hers.
He takes a deep breath. "So, I guess first and foremost, I owe you an apology for what I said to you last night," he starts. Her eyes widen imperceptibly, as if an apology was the last thing she was expecting from him. "I was unnecessarily cruel, and you did not deserve that," he continues.
"Thank you," she says, and though she looks if she's going to say something else, her mouth closes without another word and silence settles over them.
He really needs more time than what he has to say all that he needs to say to Katniss—and all that he hopes she might say to him in return, the answers she might give him—but he knows above all else he needs one answer first and foremost.
Something catches his eye on the surface of the dresser, beside Katniss's purse. Splotches of red on a white sheet of paper.
Katniss's gaze follows to where he is looking. She blanches and moves quickly towards the dresser.
"What is that?" he asks.
"It's nothing," she replies, but he hears a tremor in her voice. He takes a few tentative steps towards her.
"Katniss," he says. "What's on that paper? You're white as a ghost."
"It's nothing, Peeta," she repeats, her voice firmer this time. "It's nothing you need to be concerned with." She shoves the paper into her purse and leans against the dresser. "I'm not your concern anymore," she adds quietly.
He knows he wounded her with his comments the other night, but today it's her words that sting him. There's clearly something wrong—and she very well could have been crying, which the Katniss he knows, or knew, never did much, even when her mother died. There's something on that paper that has caused her some distress.
But the thought that she doesn't think he cares…that guts him.
Who has she had in her corner all these years? Prim. And Gale, sure. Gale, who had reminded Peeta just last night that Katniss was a grieving kid when she broke his heart—and her own in the process. The more he stands here staring at her, the more the guilt amplifies. How could he have been so selfish? Despite all the anger, the resentment, the pain, Peeta knows he's never stopped loving Katniss Everdeen. He doesn't think he ever will. He knows, deep down, that she will always be his concern.
"Katniss," he tries again, gentler. "What is written on that paper? Please. Tell me."
Katniss's nostrils flare and her lips twitch until she presses them together to cease their movement. Her grey eyes challenge his, but he doesn't flinch. He stares back, waiting, unwilling to let this go.
Finally, she expels a shaky breath and withdraws the paper from her purse. She thrusts it at him and slumps against the dresser, watching him expectantly.
There's only a few words scrawled across the page, but what he reads chills his blood and churns his stomach. He has about a million questions for which he knows Katniss won't have answers. So he tries the most obvious one."Where did you get this?" he asks.
"It was on the floor of my room this morning…after breakfast…after the, um…" she falters for a moment, and then says, "after Cato's body was discovered. Someone must have shoved it under the door," she adds. "It wasn't there when I left for breakfast."
"You need to take this to Sheriff Abernathy," he orders. Katniss shrugs, and the half-hearted, dismissive gesture guts him a little more.
"I tried," she says. "That's why I'm not at lunch. I did my fitting but I left right after. I knew I had to deal with this." She gestures towards the paper. "He wasn't at the station."
"Yeah, because he was here until a little while ago," Peeta explains. "After Dillon called him. They had secured the scene and interviewed a few people, but then they both left."
"The lady at the front desk said she hoped he had gone home to rest." She pauses. "I did see Dillon at the station. But I didn't want to tell him about the note."
"I get that," Peeta replies quietly. He can't imagine Dillon gave Katniss a kind reception—even if her visit to the station had been on official business. Unlike Graham, who adored Katniss like a little sister and has always maintained sympathy for her, Dillon's attitude towards her had soured not long before she dumped Peeta and left Panem Island, and it got exponentially worse after that.
"It's probably just a sick prank," Katniss says, laughing nervously. "Really. I'm jumping to conclusions. Bad memories and all."
Peeta scans the sentence over and over, his heart thumping faster and louder with each pass, and with each thump his concern for her safety mounts.
Time to finish what I started…
There's no way this is a prank. This sounds like someone wants Katniss Everdeen dead. Someone who very likely killed her mother six years ago.
And Katniss may not be his any longer, but Peeta can't bear to think about a world without her in it.
"This isn't a prank and you know it," he counters. "This is a threat! And Sheriff Abernathy needs to know about it. Throw some clothes on over your suit."
Katniss furrows her brows at him and gives him a puzzled look.
"I'm driving you to Abernathy's house. Now."
"Peeta, no," she protests. "I can't bother him at home. And you—Delly will be back and—"
He shakes the paper vehemently."I don't give a shit. I'll deal with Delly. You're in danger, Katniss. Your mother's killer is still out there…and you…" He hesitates and pins her with his gaze. "You're wrong that you're not my concern. We may not be together anymore, but I will always care about what happens to you." He reaches for her hand and gently brushes his fingertips along the back of her palm. It's an innocent touch, only meant to comfort and affirm his words, but it's the first contact he's had with her skin in six years and he feels all throughout his body, like a bolt of lightning.
Katniss has to feel something too, because she flinches and steps backwards, her eyes wide. Her lashes flutter a few times and she swallows visibly. "It's nice of you, but…" She trails off, and he can see her preparing an excuse. But eventually her shoulders sag a bit and she gives him a conciliatory, wan smile.
"Give me a second to get dressed."
Author's Note—Thank you so much for sticking by me. I've had some issues with the emails I've used for fic in the past, and I think I finally got it fixed, at least on the FF end. (AO3 is still a work in progress.) I've been writing, but clearly posting has been an issue. Thanks as always to El for tolerating all the asks about my work, and for always being there. Hoping more updates on this and other stories are close behind. xoxo Court