Chapter Thirty-Eight Callum #2
My throat is too tight to speak, so I nod and smile in thanks at Jane. Her face lights up, and she shares a warm smile with Atticus, who leans down to tenderly brush his lips against her forehead. I have to turn away from that, wishing desperately that I could do that to my girl right now.
I want her awake and in my arms. I want to feel her drooling against my chest. I want to feel her giggle against my mouth.
"Anyway," Tonya says, snapping us back to reality, "we stopped at your place on the way."
"We brought you clothes," Jane adds. "And Atticus handled the generator. Oh—also, we fed Plot."
That gratitude flushes me again as I take the bag from Tonya's outstretched hand. I'm suddenly very aware of how gross and uncomfortable these still-damp clothes feel on my body. I hadn't even gotten a chance to change after I took care of the generator, focused only on Sophie.
"Oh, shit—here," Tonya mutters as she digs into the pockets of her jacket and pulls out two phones—mine and Sophie's. "Grabbed both just in case."
"Thank you," I sigh in relief, taking them from her. I totally forgot about my phone, and I'm lucky my wallet was still in my pocket. Thank Christ for Tonya.
"You call her sister yet?" Tonya asks, and I shake my head.
I shake my head. "No. I didn't have her number before." I slip my phone into my pocket, but keep Sophie's in my hand. "I will now."
When I tap Sophie's phone, and the screen lights up, I freeze—and then I can't help the smile that spreads across my face.
Sometime either last night or this morning, she changed the background photo to a selfie of us at the zoo.
We took the photo before we left the otter exhibit.
In the picture, I'm wrapped around her from behind, my chin tucked over her shoulder, our faces smushed together, as we smile without a care.
I can practically hear her joy-filled laugh when she looked at the picture after.
We look so happy, so normal, and stupidly, completely, overwhelmingly in love. That was just yesterday. She was fine, she was glowing, happy, and healthy, and now she's... not.
How can everything just go to hell in such a short amount of time?
I enter 1-0-1-8, my birthday, to unlock it.
She had changed it last month and blushed adorably when I had to open her phone to change the music.
She mumbled her password, as if she were confessing a deep secret.
I still feel her soft cheeks under my palms when I had kissed her after, and then promptly changed my own password like a lovesick teenager.
0-8-2-0, the day she walked into my store—the best day of my life.
Scrolling through her contacts, I find Tess' number and feel a flash of nerves. I haven't had the chance to actually speak to Tess yet, though I know she knows about me. Sophie always talks about her older sister with such pride and love, and I know how protective Tess is of Sophie.
Briefly, I wonder if she'll blame me, but I push the thought away—Jane is right, guilt will get me nowhere, and Tess needs to know about her sister.
I press the call button and bring the phone to my ear. It rings twice before she answers, "Hey, Soph."
The voice makes me jump. From pictures, Sophie and Tess don't look alike at all, but their voices are eerily similar. The cadence is slightly different—Tess speaks with more authority, and Sophie is a little more soft-spoken. "What's going on?"
I clear my throat, "Tess?"
There's a long pause before she asks, "Callum?"
"Yeah, hi," I answer, suddenly feeling very awkward. This isn't really how I wanted to officially talk to Sophie's sister for the first time.
"Hi," she huffs a laugh, "Well, it's nice to meet you finally... kind of. What's going on? Where's Sophie?"
"Tess, Sophie's sick..." My voice breaks pathetically, and I have to clear my throat before I force the next words out. "We're at the hospital. She's being stabilized right now, but I think she caught a cold and her fever suddenly spiked."
There's another pause, and it feels like I'm on the chopping block, the axe hanging above my head.
Her voice comes through flat and firm, "Tell me from the very beginning how this happened."
And I do.
I tell her about the gala, which she knows about from the pictures Sophie sent her.
I tell her about yesterday, about the zoo, the museum, and the cold she must have picked up.
I tell her about this morning, Sophie feeling off as we left Boston, the storm closing in, getting her back to my apartment.
How she deteriorated so quickly. Her delirium.
How she passed out in the car on the way here.
Then I tell her about bringing Sophie into the hospital, watching them surround her still body, the world collapsing around me as they shouted things I didn't understand.
"What has the doctor said, Callum?" Her voice is clinical, a little cold but not mean, just focused military precision. How I imagine she speaks while at work. "Verbatim."
"They're stabilizing her," I repeat. "Her fever was around 101. They hooked her up to an IV, started antibiotics, and said they were getting her records from her oncologist. They mentioned isolation. They haven't come back out yet."
"That's probably a good sign then. Alright.
I need to make a couple of phone calls. I need to get some shit together.
Callum, you stay with my sister. Put my number in your phone—should have been there anyway since you seem to be permanent," her voice has a little humor to it, and it makes me smile for a moment.
Permanent. God, I hope so. I want nothing else.
"I want an update every thirty minutes," she continues. "Even if I don't respond, you send them."
"Yes, of course," I answer immediately.
There's a softer pause before she speaks again. "Take care of my sister, Callum. She's all I have."
The weight of that statement settles into me, and I feel my spine straighten, a determination running through my veins. My mom, Atticus, Jane, Tonya, and now Tess have all given me words that I need.
And Sophie needs all of us right now—we can't fall apart on her.
"I will," I breathe. "I promise, Tess. With everything I have..."
"Hm... knew I had a good feeling about you," her voice is low, as if she's speaking to herself. "I'll be in touch. Every thirty minutes."
She hangs up then, and I take a deep breath, turning to meet my mom's eyes from where she's sitting in her chair. Atticus, Jane, and Tonya are sitting together, talking quietly. I quickly save Tess' contact on my phone, double-check the number, then slip both phones into my pockets.
My eyes scan the waiting room, seeing so many different people sitting around waiting for news or waiting to be taken back—their faces drawn, in pain, or just exhausted. It's just a room full of misery right now, but I'm determined to remain positive, to remain as optimistic as my sweet girl is.
I cannot succumb to despair, because Sophie wouldn't.
My mom stands up, grabs the duffel bag from where I dropped it, and hands it to me.
"Go get changed, sweetest heart," my mom tells me, gently pushing me toward the bathroom.
Pulling on the dry, warm clothes is a relief, and I shove my wet clothes in the bag before walking over to the sinks and looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes are still red-rimmed, my hair is a tangled and unruly mess, and I definitely look as awful as I feel.
I press my palms to my eyes and breathe deep, in and out, until I feel the tears subside.
Crying any more won't accomplish anything, and I need to pull myself together.
Splashing some cold water on my face, I run my hands through my hair to try to fix the mess, not wanting Sophie to see me like this.
If I look scared, she'll be scared, so she needs to see me calm and steady.
I will be calm and steady for her.
Swinging the bag over my shoulder, I walk back out into the waiting room—
And immediately into chaos.
Tonya's voice registers to me first, sharp and biting, while she argues with a man—a very familiar man, I realize from the back of his blonde head.
Paul.
"Unless you're here for a lobotomy to fix whatever the hell is wrong with you, get out of here!"
"They called me."
"And why the fuck would they call you?"
"I'm still her emergency contact."
My heavy footsteps catch the group's attention—Tonya glances over Paul's shoulder at me, eyes filled with a blend of fury on my behalf and worry for me.
Atticus stands nearby, hovering close enough to intervene if Tonya throws a punch, but keeping Jane behind him, as if he's shielding her.
My mom is peering at Paul, curiously, like she's seeing something we don't.
Finally, Paul follows Tonya's gaze and turns to me. He visibly pales a bit when he sees me.
But all I feel is dread.
Emergency contact. Paul's still Sophie's emergency contact, which means he will have priority. Over me. He can just step in and push me out. He'll be the one they talk to about her treatment if she's not awake.
Even if she is awake, will she want to see him? Does she miss him? Will the months we've spent together mean anything against the six years they've spent together?
The emergency contact is just a reminder to me of the time they had, the life they built before the cancer, before he cheated on her. Do I even measure up in comparison?
"How is she? They didn't say anything on the phone," Paul asks me, his voice broken, his face even more so.
These are the first direct words he's spoken to me in almost two decades.
The last time he spoke to me was about a girl I had a silly crush on, and this time, he speaks to me about the woman I'm in love with.
The woman he's still in love with.
Funny how life circles back in the cruelest of ways.