Those 7 years: Missing One Shot Chapter

7 Travis' POV

*Travis's Point of View* 

The minutes stretched into hours, and the hours into a gnawing void of unease. I stared at the front door of our house, waiting for her to come through it. It was past midnight now, far too late for any errands. I tried to reason with myself—maybe she'd stopped for coffee, maybe she'd lost track of time. But deep down, something didn't sit right. Taylor wasn't the type to just disappear. Not without a call or text. 

I reached for my phone again, unlocking it with shaking hands. I'd already called her a dozen times. Every time, it rang endlessly before going to voicemail, her sweet voice asking me to leave a message, but I didn't want to leave another one. I wanted her to answer. I needed to hear her voice, tell her she was safe, and that she'd just forgotten to text me. 

I scrolled to her last text. She'd told me she was headed to the store, just a simple errand. That had been over four hours ago. 

I pressed the call button again, my heart pounding as I waited for the call to go through. Same thing—ring after ring, and then the voicemail. "Hey, it's Tay, leave a message..." 

I ended the call, a sharp wave of panic rising in my chest. Something was wrong. I knew it now. 

Without another second of hesitation, I dialed 911. 

The operator picked up after just one ring. "911, what's your emergency?" 

My voice was shaky, unsteady as I spoke, "I—I think my wife's missing. She went out for some errands hours ago, and she hasn't come back. She's not answering her phone, and it's been... it's been hours." 

The operator's voice was calm, professional, but it didn't soothe me. "Sir, what's your wife's name, and when did you last hear from her?" 

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice from cracking. "Taylor Kelce. She left the house around seven-thirty tonight to run some errands. She hasn't come back. I've tried calling her, but nothing. This isn't like her." 

There was a brief pause before the operator spoke again, more urgency in her tone this time. "Alright, sir. I'm going to need you to stay calm. Can you give me her physical description? What was she wearing? What kind of car was she driving?" 

I rubbed my hand over my face, trying to picture her when she left. "She's about 5'11", blonde hair, blue eyes. She was wearing... I think it was a blue hoodie and black leggings. She drives a black Range Rover." 

The operator typed quickly as I spoke, asking a few more routine questions, but all I could think about was Taylor—where she was, if she was okay. My mind raced with worst-case scenarios, and the more I thought about it, the more my stomach twisted into knots. 

"We'll put out a BOLO for her vehicle immediately, sir," the operator assured me. "Officers will begin patrolling the area, and we'll notify you of any updates." 

I barely heard the rest of what she said before hanging up. The silence in the house was deafening. 

I couldn't just sit here. Not now. I needed to do something. My hands trembled as I scrolled through my contacts. First, I called her mom. My fingers hovered over the screen before pressing the button. This wasn't the kind of call you ever wanted to make, but she needed to know. They all needed to know. 

Her phone rang twice before she answered, her voice cheerful but tired, "Travis? What's up? It's late." 

I hesitated, my breath catching in my throat. "Andrea... I don't want to freak you out, but I... I think something's happened to Taylor." 

The line went quiet for a second. Then her voice was sharp, panic creeping in, "What do you mean? What's going on?" 

"She went out earlier tonight, and she hasn't come back. She's not answering her phone, and I've already called the police. They're looking for her car, but I just... I wanted you to know." 

There was a pause on the other end, then a shaky inhale. "Oh God, Travis. Oh God. Have you called Scott? The boys?" 

"I'm about to," I said, pacing the living room now, my heart racing. "I didn't want to wait. I thought you should know right away." 

"Thank you," she whispered. "Keep me updated. Please." 

"I will. I promise." 

I ended the call, my heart pounding harder than ever. My hands were shaking as I dialed Scott, her father. I could barely think straight, the anxiety suffocating me. He picked up after a few rings, his voice groggy, like I'd just woken him. 

"Travis?" 

"Scott, it's me," I began, my voice strained. "Something's wrong. Taylor didn't come home tonight. I called the police—" 

I couldn't even finish before I heard him sit up, the sound of sheets rustling as he scrambled to understand. "What do you mean she didn't come home? Where is she?" 

"She went out around seven, and she hasn't come back. I don't know where she is." My voice cracked on the last word, the weight of the situation crashing down on me. 

Silence filled the line, the heavy kind that made your heart race. Then he spoke, his voice trembling with fear. "I'm coming over. We'll figure this out." 

"Okay," I whispered, though I didn't know what more we could do. 

After hanging up with Scott, I dialed my own family. First, my mom. Her voice, always so comforting, was laced with concern the moment she heard my tone. 

"Trav, honey, what's wrong?" 

"Mom, Taylor's missing." The words felt foreign in my mouth, like they didn't belong there. 

"Oh no, Travis. No. Are you sure? Have you called the police?" 

"I already did. They're looking for her, but I needed to tell you." 

"Stay strong, baby," she said, her voice soft but firm. "We're coming. We'll be there as soon as we can." 

Next, I called Jason. I could barely keep my voice steady as I explained what had happened. "She didn't come back, man. I don't know what to do. I feel so helpless just sitting here." 

Jason's voice was sharp with concern. "Travis, we're getting in the car now. We'll come down. Don't do anything stupid, alright? We'll find her. Just... just hold on." 

I hung up the phone and sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. The house felt too quiet, too still. Without Taylor, it felt like a hollow shell. 

All I could do now was wait. Wait for a call, for a knock on the door, for anything that would bring her back to me. But the minutes ticked by like hours, and every second without her felt like an eternity. 

I couldn't lose her. Not now, not ever. The thought of something happening to her—to the love of my life—was too much to bear. I could only pray that wherever she was, she was okay. That the police would find her. 

I just needed her to come home.