I apologize for this short chapter and for the ridiculously long wait for than update! Life has kicked my ass the past several months and this chapter has been sitting on my computer just waiting to be edited and uploaded. I know that it is about 3k words shorter than the others, but I hope it packs a punch even with its short length. I felt that we needed to move on to Katniss again with where this ended. I've already started writing the next chapter and I hope to have it uploaded ASAP.

Thank you so much for the encouragement and reviews I've received. I'm thrilled that you are enjoying the story.

My apologies for any typos :)

Peeta

He nervously drummed his fingers on the speckled linoleum tabletop. The rain pelted the fogged glass of the diner's window in harmony with his fingertips. He had awoken that morning to the view of heavy, grey storm clouds looming overhead outside the bedroom window. Their ominous presence matched the dread that had consumed him as he prepared for the day. The rain and dark skies set a dramatic mood and, although cliché, it was completely appropriate.

He was meeting his mother for breakfast.

He had reached out to his father and brother, Rye, a week ago after Katniss had come to him and let him know that she wanted to keep the baby.

Their baby.

He was going to be a father.

He was thrilled.

He was terrified.

This realization brought up memories of his childhood and his own father. It made the rift between his family seem small in comparison. He didn't want to go on not speaking with them and have them miss out on this experience, on becoming uncles and grandparents. He also didn't want the baby to miss out on family members to know and love. What he didn't expect when he reached out to Rye, was for his mother to call. When it came to her, there were some bridges that couldn't be mended. She blamed him for so much and would forgive him for nothing. He would never understand this ability to throw a child away, to ignore their existence or to loathe it entirely.

So, he sat in a small diner three towns over from where he lived and where his family's bakery was established, anxiously awaiting her arrival. She had specifically requested the meeting take place here as it was just far enough away from home to not inconvenience her while maintaining enough distance to ensure she didn't run into anyone she knew. The knowledge that she didn't want anyone familiar to see her with him hurt, but he knew her well enough to have expected nothing less. So, he took that pain and locked it away like he had done with all the rest and he steeled himself for her arrival.

He expected her to blow through the door on a gust of wind and rain so vicious that all of the diner's patrons would stop and stare in horror because that was the way it felt seeing her again. Her entrance, however dramatic in his mind, was much more subdued in reality. Her slender frame glided through the door virtually unnoticed. Her blonde hair, several shades lighter than his own, was pulled back from her face in a low bun that sat impeccably coiffed at the base of her skull. Her face and lips adorned with perfectly applied makeup. A designer bag tucked neatly into the crook of her elbow. Her hands folded demurely in front of her. Nude polish gleamed from her manicured nails. She looked every bit the part of a wealthy citizen, which Peeta knew was her goal. Although his family's bakery did well and was prominent in the community, they were far from wealthy and this had always been a source of contention for his mother. Wide-set black sunglasses sat perched on the bridge of her nose. They had sunk low enough for her eyes to see over the top of the frame. Her icy blue gaze scanned the diner until it landed on him.

"Mother," he greeted evenly as she approached the table.

She didn't answer immediately. She took her time removing her glasses, depositing them in her bag and then placing the bag in an empty seat at the table. She remained standing, looking him over thoroughly before releasing an exasperated breath and taking the seat directly across from him.

"You stupid creature," she spat avoiding any pleasantries.

He struggled to keep his outward appearance composed. Inside he was boiling. "It's wonderful to see you again, too," he replied coolly.

"I always thought it would be Rye who would go and knock up some insignificant slut. He barely has two brain cells to rub together, but I can't say I'm surprised that it's you. You've always been weak and now you're going to sully the family's good name even further. As if you haven't done enough already. Proja would've never embarrassed me like this. He would've married within his station and given me beautiful grandchildren. But, you've destroyed that, too, haven't you?"

The venomous words flowed easily from her lips and she never dropped her chilly glare. Peeta could feel his cheeks burning with humiliation and anger. It felt like his insides were twisting in on themselves from the sheer willpower it took to remain calm in this public place. He knew his mother would bring up Proja, her darling first-born, the only son she ever really wanted. She had doted on him and while still strict in terms of discipline, she showed him the love and affection that she denied Rye and Peeta. It had created severe animosity between Proja and Rye, but Peeta, being the youngest, had always looked up to both of his brothers. Proja especially.

The age gap between himself and his older brother was much wider than the one he had with Rye and so, Proja seemed much less like an equal and more like this mythical figure to him. This person who could do no wrong and knew all the answers to questions that Peeta was too embarrassed or afraid to ask anyone else. As Peeta got older and Proja graduated from high school and left home, their bond strengthened. Distance and time seemed to help Proja see the cruelty their mother inflicted on Peeta and Rye and he would talk to Peeta in length about the guilt he carried from years of saying and doing nothing to help. Proja wanted desperately to repair the relationship with Rye and Peeta tried to help him do that, which is why he invited both brothers for a long weekend at their Aunt Effie's home in New Orleans the year prior.

"I just had to see you one more time and tell you face to face how utterly disappointed I am," his mother spat. "The years of my life I wasted on you and your idiot brother. I will never get those back. And, now look at me! I'll waste away in that bakery with your ridiculous father, with no family and no son."

"I'm your son," he countered with as much confidence as he could muster even as his voice cracked at the end. He should have been used to hearing these things from her after all of these years, but it still stung. He swallowed the tears threatening to spill out. He knew she would only use those as another weapon against him.

"You killed my son," she said with so much finality that he knew the conversation was over.

She rose from the table, grabbed her bag and turned to leave. At the door she looked back over her shoulder at him. He searched for anything besides utter hatred in her eyes. He found nothing. She slid her sunglasses into place on her face and left the diner just as uneventfully as she arrived. He looked around at the people eating and chattering away. Some laughing, some smiling, some leaning in close to whisper. He looked across the table at the empty chair in front of him. He had never felt so alone. The guilt of Proja's death rested heavily on his shoulders. It hadn't been his fault, not technically, but she would never see it that way. Although he hated to admit it, there was a very large part of himself that took the blame as well. It had been his idea to go to that third bar. He had let Proja get behind the wheel and even climbed into the passenger seat although he knew it was a bad idea. He should've said no. He should've suggested they had gone back to Effie's sooner, called a cab, walked the couple of miles, anything. He should've never invited them to stay with him in the first place. Then, he wouldn't have killed his brother.

"You're going to have to tell her Peet."

The voice drifted into the kitchen where Peeta stood staring blankly at the granite countertop, a knife poised above the carrot he was supposed to be chopping. His mind felt like a million pieces of paper scattered in the wind. As hard as he tried he couldn't collect enough pieces to get his thoughts together. He shrugged in response knowing that the gesture would not be seen. He continued chopping until he heard Finnick's footsteps enter the kitchen.

"Peeta, I told you that I would be cooking for you tonight," he chastised. "Now, back away from the sharp objects slowly. I've met your mother. I know what that bitch can do, so having knives in your hands is probably not the best thing for you."

Finnick opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a beer, replacing it with the knife in Peeta's hand. Peeta leaned against the adjacent counter and watched as Finnick took over the vegetable preparation. He took a long drink, holding the bottle to his lips and letting the amber liquid sit on his tongue before swallowing it down.

"I see that isn't a problem for you anymore," Finnick said gesturing to the bottle in Peeta's hands.

Peeta shrugged. It wasn't that it was no longer a problem, it still felt strange and a little unnatural to be drinking again but after the day he'd had, he welcomed the warmth and internal calmness that came with alcohol. Finnick raised his brow at Peeta's lack of response then shook his head and continued his work. Peeta had met Finnick shortly after finishing high school. He had spent the summer taking odd jobs in order to stay away from the bakery and his parents whom weren't happy with his decision to not go to university. One of those jobs was as an assistant on the set of a low budget independent movie shooting in various locations around town. The star of the movie was Finnick Odair; a then 26-year-old bronze haired, green eyed, Greek statue of a man. A heartthrob by any standard.

Peeta's job was to basically make sure that he was happy, fed and ready to film when it was his time to do so. That wasn't as easy as it seemed. In front of a crowd Finnick was charming, dashing and nearly always irresistible. In private, he was sullen, aloof and desperately homesick. He would often hide away in his trailer untying and retying a braided bracelet around his wrist that the costume department begged him not to wear but he refused, and they had to be creative in trying to hide it on film. Peeta had tried his best to break through with Finnick, but nothing had worked and by the end of filming they were both exhausted and frustrated with each other. Then, on the last day of filming, Peeta left a small cake he had baked and decorated with the words, "Happy Birthday Annie" in Finnick's trailer after inadvertently seeing the reminder, Annie's bday-get cake, pop up as a notification on Finnick's phone. It was only a simple round cake decorated in while buttercream but wrapped around the bottom was an exact replica of Finnick's bracelet, frayed ends and all. Peeta had left the cake without a second thought. It was his last gesture of kindness. He didn't know who Annie was or if Finnick would actually give her the cake or toss it in the trash. What he didn't expect was to be wrapped up in a bear hug with his face locked against Finnick's bare chest.

Upon seeing the cake, Finnick had sprinted from his trailer half dressed. Mid-sprint he had decided to forgo the typical and usual manly handshake and wrap the kind, blonde haired kid who had been putting up with his shit for weeks in a hug. The kid didn't know that the bracelet he wore matched the one his wife, Annie, wore on her wrist as well as a much smaller version that resided on the tiny wrist of his toddler son, Jacob. It was the only thing that held them all together while Finnick spent long weeks away pursuing his dream and trying to build a better life for his small family. He desperately loved his wife and his son, but they were his private secret. In order to build his brand and create the persona of an available heartthrob, his agent and manager agreed that for the time being he should appear single in public. The charming smiles, whispered flirtations and outward bravado slowly ate away at him. He loved his job but after a few days away he wanted nothing more than to be home.

So, that simple cake with its enormous meaning was how he and Peeta became friends. They kept in touch over the years as Finnick's star started to climb and then rocketed into orbit when he starred in another indie movie that got nominated for an Oscar. Suddenly, his name was household and his life no longer a secret. He would confess to Peeta later that while fame had its pitfalls, no longer having to hide his family wasn't one of them. Soon after the Oscar nomination, Finnick got offered a lead role in a drama series that filmed close to Peeta's hometown. The series became a knockout success and when it got renewed for a third season with no end in sight, Finnick, Annie and Jacob packed their bags and moved within driving distance to the set of the series. This was how Peeta found himself standing in Finnick's kitchen nursing a beer and listening to Jacob's tinkling laughter floating in from the other room.

Annie tiptoed into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around Finnick's waist, planting a quick kiss in between his shoulder blades as he continued to prepare dinner. Peeta had watched the pair interact with each other for years and it had always fascinated him. Their knowing glances, the way they would purposely touch whenever they walked by one another, their outward and obvious display of love. He hadn't grown up with that. His childhood home had a seemingly impenetrable layer of ice that hovered over, in and all around it. It caused a feeling like you could never get warm no matter how hard you tried. That was his mother's domain. The bakery, his father's domain, on the other hand had always felt warm and his father had always been free with his affection, so it wasn't like Peeta had grown up without ever being or feeling love, but he did grow up never seeing love between a married couple. It confused him and made him skittish in the way he approached his relationship with Katniss, especially now that they were bringing a baby into the world.

"So, when do we get to meet this mysterious Katniss?" Annie asked as she playfully pinched him in the side to move him, so she could gather plates to set the table for dinner. He hesitated a few seconds too long, and her brows furrowed in confusion. She glanced between him and Finnick, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air as she reached for the plates.

"Or not," she continued, clearing her throat and finally grasping the plates in the cabinet.

"No, no…it's just…I haven't…it's new. It's delicate," Peeta stammered.

"She doesn't know about us, love," Finnick added, stepping in to assist. "Or, Proja."

"Peeta," she said slowly, drawing his name out in a reprimand. "Do you love her?"

"I've loved her since I was 5," he replied.

"Then you have to tell her about your brother, especially now. You will be forever linked together regardless of how your relationship turns out. She's carrying your child. She deserves for you to respect her enough to be honest with her about your life and who you are."

She walked out of the kitchen gently brushing Finnick's arm as she passed. He turned and met Peeta's eyes with an "I told you so" glance. Peeta sagged against the counter. He knew she was right. Katniss deserved the world and he wanted nothing more than to give that to her. He wanted what Finnick and Annie had, and he could envision that life with Katniss. But, what Finnick and Annie didn't know and what he could remember all too vividly was a tiny, thin, scared and heartbroken Katniss. A girl too young to face the pain and responsibility that had been suddenly and violently thrust upon her. A girl that had lost both of her parents in a car accident. An accident caused by a drunk driver. He knew that while she deserved his honesty, telling her about Proja would cause a rift between them that he didn't know if he would be able to repair. He looked at the beer growing warm in his hands and as the fear of losing Katniss fell over him, he abandoned it on the counter and went to help Annie with setting the table.