𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐬 | 𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫 (2)

Chapter 20

My eyelids were thick and troubled; it would take great effort to open them. My head throbbed —dull and loud. It felt like I had been drinking and the bitter stale taste in my mouth reinforced that notion. But, of course, that couldn't be right: pregnancy guaranteed sobriety. It had saved me, having Rosie, and I knew that I would never succumb to the temptation if it meant hurting my baby. So why could I feel it, burning like cancer in my veins?

I wasn't at home. I could tell that much without opening my eyes. That smell was regrettably familiar. It burned my nose. Heavy disinfectant and thick laundry detergent. The cling of clean sheets. I wondered if I kept my eyes closed and I tried to go back to sleep, would I wake up back in my own bed? With Hotch by my side and my kids down the hall? With everything as it should be?

But I knew, with every fateful cell in my body, that something had shifted. Something detrimental. My lip trembled and I was suddenly overcome with the urge to shout. But I kept my eyes squeezed shut. I knew that once I opened them I wouldn't be able to pretend anymore. There was this foreboding sense of dread sitting, like a cinderblock, on my chest —crushing the air from my lungs, making it very difficult to breathe.

I felt a hand on top of my own, sweaty and nervous. But it felt wrong and I pulled away. It wasn't the hand that I wanted. It wasn't him. Had it been Aaron, I wouldn't have been so afraid to open my eyes. I might have smiled and maybe even cracked a joke about how I had to stop winding up in a hospital bed.

"Adeline," Spencer's voice found my attention. He had adopted a cautious tone like he did with victims.

I pressed my head deeper into the pillow, turning away from the sound of his voice, "Where's Aaron?"

"He's not coming," Spencer said gently, "When you're ready to talk, I'll explain everything."

I wasn't sure how much time passed before I spoke again. Was it an hour? Two? Or was it just a lingering, agonising minute? But I didn't have the liberty to ignore what was happening. Opening my eyes, I briefly scanned the hospital room before directing my attention to my crazy-haired, sleep-deprived friend. I felt nauseous and my head was too painful to ignore —it made me dizzy.

"Are the kids okay?" I asked in a small, soft voice.

"Yes, Addy, they're safe. Hotch is with them." He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Why aren't they here? Why isn't Hotch here?" I asked, my breath sharp and agitated.

I could tell that he was reluctant to tell me and that something was weighing on him. A physical weight that made his shoulders slump. His eyes were sad and full of conflict. He started easy and I wondered if it was for his benefit or mine.

"Everybody's fine," Spencer inhaled sharply, staring intently at the hospital curtain pulled carelessly around my bed. "But..."

"What?" I asked desperately, "Spencer, please, what is it?"

"Do you remember drinking?" He whispered gently, a slight waver to his words.

"No," I shook my head vehemently, "No, I wouldn't —I'm..." I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. "Where's Aaron?" I repeated more urgently. I looked past Spencer, the irrational hope that the one person I needed would suddenly materialise out of thin air.

"Adeline..." he shook his head and the look on his face filled me with a sharp fear, "He's not coming."

Those three words stung like salt in an open wound. I ignored them, resisting whatever it was that Spencer was trying to tell me.