Epilogue
I was coloring with Nathaniel when Charlie sat down next to me. It was the day after I gave him the notebook.
“I finished reading it,” he said.
“And?” He pulled me into a hug.
“I’m so proud of you. You went through so much, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there, but I’m glad you weren’t alone.” I smiled, looking at the framed picture of everyone that was taken on Christmas that first year. Clint hung it on the wall as soon as we got there, right next to the picture of all of us at Thanksgiving this year. I thought about all of us; Natasha, who was on her way back after finding Yelena; Wanda, who lives fifteen minutes away; Steve, who did end up moving out here; and Peter, who had been texting me almost daily since Tony’s funeral.
“Yeah, I wasn’t alone. None of us were.”