Callum & Harper (Sleepless 1)

“Are you okay, Callum?” Ames asked, sitting in the seat across from me.

Just then, the knock came at the door and I launched myself at its handle, throwing the door open and stepping back slightly. Two uniformed officers removed their hats and asked if they could enter.

“Of course,” Ames said, gesturing to his sofa.

“Actually,” the larger of the officers said, “it might be best if you sat down, Mr. Tate.”

My heart beat rapidly and I had trouble catching my breath. I sat and Ames lowered himself next to me in support.

The officers sat in the chairs opposite us, seemingly taking their time, reluctant to reveal whatever news they were tasked to repeat. It’s just a message about John, Callum. Nothing’s wrong with Harper. She’s perfectly safe back home. I foolishly tried to convince myself but deep down I knew that if the N.Y.P.D wanted only to speak with me they would have rang me. Two uniformed messengers meant bad, awful things. My stomach wrenched itself and I wanted to vomit.

“Please,” I begged, “just tell me.”

The larger of the two sighed, obviously the spokesperson and leaned forward as if to catch me. I didn’t like where this was going at all. “Mr. Tate are you married to a Harper Tate?” He asked.

My world began to spin and it felt like the floor would drop beneath me. I gulped. “Y-Yes, sir,” I answered shakily, shifting forward in preparation.

Ames looked at me with wide eyes, obviously shocked at having learned I was married but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr. Tate,” the larger officer began but I cut him off.

“Please,” I begged, my voice breaking. “Not Harper...not Harper.” I slid from the sofa and onto my knees hard. All three men lunged for me but I held them away with a quivering hand. “What happened?” My trembling voice asked.

“She was found not a block from here, badly wounded. She’s been airlifted to Northwest.”

I launched myself at the door and threw it open. I ran down the steps, not knowing exactly where I was going but knowing that if I didn’t move, didn’t do something, I would lose my mind. I heard the officers’ steps as well as Ames’ but paid no attention. I looked up the street toward the city and decided to run but Ames caught be before I could flee, throwing my coat over my shoulders.

“You can’t run to her, Callum! Be reasonable! I’ll drive us!”

Ames ran around the building to the garage for his car and I collapsed on the steps of his building.

“Son, she’s alive, hold on to that,” the smaller officer assured me. I closed my eyes and nodded once in acknowledgment. His hand rested on my shoulder, letting me know he was there. “We’ll escort you there.”

Ames’ car pulled up short at the curb and the officer helped me inside. He climbed into the passenger side of their cruiser and led the way, sirens blaring, to Northwest.

“She’s alive,” Ames’ said quietly. “The officers told me she lives, Callum.”

I turned to my young uncle, unsure of what to say but finally found the words. “Do you really think they would have come to your apartment, given us this escort, if they suspected she would live?” I asked incredulously. My jaw clenched at hearing myself say the words.

Ames said nothing, only pressed harder on the gas pedal.

“I can’t live without her, Ames.” I told him but turned inward. “I think I always knew it. I was a fool to think I could come here and forget her.” I looked at his profile, highlighted by the neon lights of his dash. “I’m ridiculous in love with her.”

“I can tell,” he told me. “Is that why you never said a word about her? You two are no longer together?”

“In a sense, yes,” I answered, unable to reveal more.

The drive to the hospital felt like it took hours. My legs were sore from bouncing repeatedly in anticipation. When the emergency room at Northwest came into view, I removed my seat belt and scooted up in my seat. Ames rounded the driveway in front of the entrance and I bounded from the car before he’d even come to a complete stop.

I ran through the automatic doors and practically assaulted the woman manning the desk. “My wife! Where is she?” I asked.

“Your name, sir?” She asked professionally.

“Tate. Callum Tate. My wife is Harper Tate.”

When I said Harper’s name, the woman’s eyes briefly flashed wide before she checked her expression. Her tone softened. “Uh, yes. Um, if you’ll just come with me,” she said quietly.

I buried my hands under my arms, hugging myself tightly as I followed her to a single empty room. “What is this?” I asked.