Chapter Thirty

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~Winter's POV~

Amelie rolled over, her arm lifting from my chest to pull the blankets with her. I stared at the ceiling, the flickering light in the corner casting shadows to dance in the gloom.

Nightmares had faded, but were still a constant. I noticed Amelie sneak out of bed several times over the last couple of weeks to plug the small night light in, then creep out just before dawn to turn it off. I finally confessed I knew about it, but whenever I woke up early, the light would stop me from going back to sleep.

The extra hours gave me time to plan the party though. Amelie introduced me to the concept on our escape almost a year ago, and as the memories of Bucky returned, I had fallen asleep dreaming about them. Before those visions went up in flames, assassins shot me from across the room, or Amelie was tortured, the early moments of the dreams were nice.

I reached for the small drawer beside the bed, and pulled out a notebook and pen. I angled the page towards the light, and went over the invite list.

May, Peter and Wade, as her family were at the top of the list.

The Avengers, as they lived here, would be invited. Amelie seemed to like all of them, particularly Bruce, who would sit in silence with her when she needed the time alone.

Eve and Nick, her friend from work. I'd met them several times now, and although Eve was a bit over the top sometimes, she was kind and looked after Amelie. The sister she never had. Nick didn't make conversation unless Eve gave him a look, and I appreciated it. Amelie said he liked me. As someone with few friends, I could honestly say I liked him too.

I asked Becky if she could come, but her medication had changed and the nurses weren't letting her leave the home for another week.

She did tell me to invite Tom though. He was her grandson, and liked art. I hadn't met him, only her daughter Anna had visited the last time I went, but Becky gave a convincing argument.

The last two names at the bottom of the list made me smile before I read them. Noah and Jake.

Noah's English accent and smart pressed suits somehow felt like home. I'd never fought in England during the war, and yet sitting with him was like we had known each other back then.

Jake felt like a friend who lived in mine and Steve's building all those years ago. He was a good man, and teased everyone he deemed family.

Both acted like Amelie's grandparents, and as such, I had invited them three weeks ago, watching as they took out their diaries and pencilled in the party.

Amelie grunted, and yanked the last of the blankets as she huddled into a ball in the centre of the bed.

I eased to the edge of the mattress, carefully placing weight on the floor to avoid the creak, before standing up. I pulled a jumper over my head, picked up the notebook and slipped it into the pocket of the baggy pyjama trousers Amelie had bought for me.

I grabbed the pen, and turned to watch as Amelie rolled over, scooping my pillow into her arms. The blankets covering her body rose and fell with each of her breaths.

I slowly moved to the door, and stepped into the hallway, making sure she was still asleep before clicking the door shut.

I stared down the long hall, and sighed.

A party.

I had to buy the last of the ingredients for the cake.

I wouldn't be making it. Neither would May - she had confessed earlier in the week that she always bought cakes as they turned into burnt bricks in the oven.

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