Winter's Soulmate | Winter Soldier ✔

Chapter Twenty Nine

~Winter's POV~

Amelie wasn't telling me something.

It wasn't about the man in the bar yesterday. I had taken care of that, and after being initially shaken, she had told me she was proud that 99% of the room were good people, who stood up for her and the girl, and firmly announced me as a good man.

We had walked home. She had held my new hand, swinging it between us as if she had done it a thousand times before.

We walked up the stairs, deciding to stretch our legs before she had a quick bowl of pasta.

She asked me about my day, about the arm, and how I felt.

She listened patiently.

She showered quickly, and had changed into her pyjamas with a smile on her face before relaxing into my side, planting her hand on my chest as she closed her eyes.

She wasn't telling me something.

She was keeping something a secret. Something happened the day T'Challa and Shuri had arrived.

It was midmorning, and Amelie had the day off. She slept in, then got dressed and was twisting in front of the mirror when I finally questioned it.

"Amelie."

"Hm?" She lifted her arm up, and spun a little tighter, inspecting a small mark on the back of her trousers.

"Tell me."

Her hands fell to her sides and she turned to face me, eyes skimming over my face, "tell you what?"

I didn't answer. She knew what she was hiding.

She pulled her lip between her teeth, taking a beat, before she sighed. Her cheeks were paling, eyes sliding from me to the open window. "Please don't be mad at me."

I couldn't hide the frown as she whispered, before she walked to the wardrobe. She opened the door, pulling her scuffed trainers onto the floor, before pulling out a large cardboard box.

"What is that?"

She looked over her shoulder, hair falling into her eyes as she glanced back at me, "it's what they bought."

"Who's they?" The skin on my arm pricked, and a shiver raced down my spine, "strangers? Why did you not tell me? This could have a tracking device - someone could be planting evidence - you shouldn't trust people so easily - how long-?"

She stood up, spine straightened as she walked in front of me, blocking my view with her body. Her arms moved from being crossed against her chest to wrapping around my shoulders.

She slowly sunk forward, kneeling on the small square of bed between my legs.

Her perfume flooded my senses, her soft hands resting against my shirt, her fingers sliding over the skin of my collarbone.

"Listen to me," she rested her forehead against mine, "breathe with me." She knelt there for a minute, breathing slowly, enticing my breaths to match hers. Without realising, my racing heart slowed, my worries slowing in my mind.

She wrapped her hands around mine, coaxing me onto the floor with her.

"The other day when I was downstairs, I met two kids. Tom, he was a teenager, and Jules, who was a few years younger. They had a box of their Gran's belongings. They were sweet, and had listened to her stories for years about growing up with Steve Rogers, and recently decided she wanted to give him these things."

She picked up a small handkerchief, with Steve's initials stitched into the corner. She handed it to me, watching as I ran my thumb over the thread.

"Why didn't you give it to him?" My throat was scratching. The feeling of this cotton was evoking too many feelings of nostalgia, a longing, for something I couldn't remember.