The schoolyard was empty now. Whatever chaos had stirred moments before had long scattered with the arrival of Ethan and his silent companion. Avery stood on the higher slope behind the playground, the wild grass brushing her knees as she looked down. Her pulse was finally beginning to calm. She'd nearly shouted his name when she saw him—James.
Her father. Young. Unbruised by time. And so incredibly real.
It was disorienting, how much she'd forgotten. The curve of his jaw, the way his brows furrowed when someone annoyed him, the stubbornness in his stance. All the memories she clung to had dulled with grief—just pieces of someone lost. But now, seeing him there, standing awkwardly in the dusty light, the past felt more vivid than the present had in a year.
As the last of the boys trickled away, James lingered. A small cut bled near his temple, and he wiped it with the sleeve of his uniform jacket, wincing. Avery hesitated. Then her legs moved before she could stop them.
She stepped down the uneven slope, stumbling once on a root. Her bare feet scratched through the gravel. She cursed under her breath—this damn time travel thing didn't even give her shoes?
He was alone now, walking toward the shade of a stone wall, probably waiting for the dizziness to pass. Avery approached, slowly, deliberately, her arms wrapped around herself in her oversized shirt.
James turned at the sound of her steps. His eyes met hers, cautious.
"Uh. You okay?" he asked, voice hoarse. It cracked at the end like he was still getting used to it.
She stopped a few feet from him. Up close, he looked even younger. Sixteen. Maybe seventeen. He had no idea what lay ahead. No idea who she was.
Avery's throat burned. "You look... just like my dad."
He blinked, taken aback. "Weird thing to say to a stranger."
She laughed softly. It came out more like a sob. "Yeah. Sorry. That was... dumb. You just reminded me of someone. A lot."
James tilted his head. "You new around here? You don't sound local."
"I'm... kind of lost," she said, carefully choosing her words. "I don't have a place to stay."
She expected hesitation. Maybe even suspicion. Instead, James glanced around, then rubbed the back of his neck.
"Damn. That sucks. You—uh—you want me to ask the dorm lady if she has a room or something? They usually don't let girls in, but I could try."
"No. I don't want to get anyone in trouble."
He nodded slowly. "Then maybe I can... find you something temporary. There's this guy who owes me a favor. Or we could check the back of the old theater building—it's abandoned, but dry."
Avery was struck silent by how quickly he offered help. The boy who'd someday become a father. Her father. She'd imagined him as a grown man, stern and composed. But this version of him—young and impulsive and maybe just a little soft-hearted—felt like someone new.
Before she could answer, a voice called from behind a gate.
"James! You coming or what?"
A boy with buzzed hair leaned on the rail, clearly annoyed.
"Be right there!" James called back, then turned to Avery. "That's Milo. He's annoying, but loyal. Listen—come with me. I'll get you something to eat. You probably haven't eaten, right?"
"Not since..." She shook her head. "I could use food."
He led her around the school's side entrance, where Milo narrowed his eyes at her.
"You picked up a stray?"
"Shut up," James muttered. "She's new. Doesn't have a place. I'm helping."
"Helping? What are you, a charity now?"
James turned to Avery. "Ignore him."
They walked together through the side streets until they reached a small shop selling steamed buns and soup. James ordered without asking her preference. Milo muttered about missing his lunch hour.
As they sat on a concrete stoop, Avery listened as James explained how he'd met Ethan.
"He's... weird," James said, picking at his food. "You ever meet someone who makes your skin crawl, but you still want to know what they're thinking?"
"Like a dangerous book you want to read," Milo added with a snort. "But it's soaked in blood."
"I don't think he's all bad," James said softly.
Avery frowned.
"You're not serious," Milo snapped. "He practically runs the city's underground now. Just because he looked at you once doesn't mean he's your friend."
"It wasn't like that. He... saved me. Once. Didn't have to."
Avery's ears perked.
"You didn't tell me that," Milo muttered.
"Didn't seem important."
The conversation drifted, but Avery's thoughts stayed. Saved him? That wasn't what she remembered about Ethan. Her Ethan was a shadow. A killer. Not a savior.
Hours later, after James left to drop something off, Avery lingered by the side of the building.
That's when she saw her.
A girl—cute, petite, with a soft bob and bright eyes—ran toward James, throwing her arms around him. He laughed, his whole face lighting up.
Avery froze.
She wasn't her mother.
The girl kissed James on the cheek, and he pulled her close.
Avery stared, the scene sinking in like ice water.
Her father—this boy—was in love.
But not with her mother.
She turned away quickly, her chest tightening.
What kind of future was she walking into?
And how many things could still go wrong?