The last thing I remembered was the jazz crackli
ng on the radio and the scent of gasoline on my
hands.
Then a flash. A pull. A cold, sterile light.
"Subject 01 is awake," a voice said
from the cei
ling.
I sat up fast. My 1940s mechanic coveralls were
gone. Replaced by some kind of sleek jumpsuit.
"Where am I?"
"New Boston. Year 2147."
I blinked.
"Run that by me again?"
A man stepped into the room. Navy suit. Military
cut. Eyes like storm clouds.
"You’re safe now," he said. "
You’ve been in cryo
for nearly three hundred years."
I laughed. A sharp, nervous sound.
"Cryo? You’re joking, right? I was just working
on a Ford. I had a Coke. I—"
He held up a photo. Faded. Framed.
It was me. In front of my garage. 1943.
"Your name is June Callahan," he said.
"You disa
ppeared that year. We found you in a timecapsule
pod buried under the old stadium."
"Stadium?"
He nodded. "The one that used to house the Bosto
n Bulldogs."
I stared. "That team folded in '49."
"Not in this timeline."
I stood. My legs shook.
"Who are you?"
"Commander Eli Vance. Head of Temporal Recovery.
"
I narrowed my eyes. "You’re military."
"Strategic Defense Command. We’re not here to hu
rt you."
"Then why am I in a lab?"
He hesitated. That was all the answer I needed.
"You’re keeping me here."
"No," he said. "We’re protecting
you."
"From what?"
He walked to a screen. Tapped it.
A planet appeared. Red. Barren. With a ring arou
nd it.
"We found this in orbit. It’s a weapon. And it’s
aimed at Earth."
I stared. "How does this involve me?"
"You were in the capsule. The only one. And the
coordinates inside point to a location in 1943—y
our time."
"Mine?"
He turned. "You were meant to stop this. Before
it began."
I shook my head. "I was a mechanic. I fixed engi
nes."
"You were also a cryptographer. For the OSS."
I stiffened. "That’s a myth."
"No," he said. "It’s why we found
you. You sent
a message. One we just decoded."
I leaned in. "What did it say?"
He looked me dead in the eye.
"Find the quarterback. He’s the key."
I blinked. "What quarterback?"
He smiled. "The one who’s been waiting for you.
Since he found your capsule in 1987."
"Who is he?"
Eli opened a new screen.
There he was. In pads. A helmet under one arm. S
taring at the camera like he knew it was me watc
hing.
"Name’s Jace Ryder. Star QB. Billionaire owner o
f the Bulldogs."
"He’s been searching for you ever since,
" Eli sa
id. "He says you’re his fated mate."
I laughed. "That sounds like a line."
"It’s not. He dropped out of the league. Funded
our program. Just to find you."
"Why?"
"He says he saw you once. In a dream. Or a memor
y that wasn’t his."
I stared at the screen.
Jace Ryder looked straight at me. Like he could
see me across time.
"Let’s meet him," I said.
Eli nodded. "He’s waiting at the stadium."
We stepped into the light.
New Boston was all glass and skybridges. I didn’
t recognize a thing.
But the stadium? It was rebuilt, but the shape w
as the same.
We walked in.
He was there. No helmet now. Just dark hair, sha
rp jawline, eyes that lit up when he saw me.
"June," he said. Like he’d been
holding that wor
d for decades.
"You know me?"
"I do," he said. "You saved my
life once. In 194
3."
"I did?"
"You fixed my car. Gave me a ride. Told me to fo
llow my dream."
I frowned. "I don’t remember that."
"You will," he said. "When we go
back."
"Back?"
Eli stepped in. "We need to send you both. To 19
43. Stop the weapon before it’s built."
Jace looked at me. "You in?"
I studied him.
Then I nodded.
"Let’s do it."
The machine hummed.
We stood in the chamber. Suits on. Heartbeats sy
ncing.
"You ready?" Jace asked.
"For what?"
"To fall through time. Again."
I smiled. "As long as I land with you."
He took my hand.
"Always."
The light flashed.
And we were gone.
Back to jazz and gas stations.
To a war we didn’t know we started.
And a love that outlasted centuries.
