Secrets I Have Held In My Heart

Chapter 35

The clock on the wall ticks ominously as the minutes turn into hours. I sit on the edge of the couch, my eyes heavy with exhaustion and worry. Spencer has been missing for two days, he never came back when he just walked out a few days ago-the morning after our fight. There's been no trace of him. Fear has settled deep within me, gnawing at my insides with each passing moment.

The police are of no help and neither is the team. He's only been missing two days and it's not like he's someone who goes to a nine-to-five job every day. Even if I wanted their help, Spencer is no stranger to the world of crime. And Hotch would fire me in a second if he knew I was living with the same man who is literally on a most wanted list. The fear of exposure has silenced my plea for help, leaving me to bear the weight of my anxiety alone.

I even tried calling Elle. She won't pick up.

As the night wears on, the apartment remains shrouded in a suffocating silence. The only sound is the distant hum of the city, oblivious to the turmoil unfolding within the walls of this home.

And then, just as despair begins to settle within me, the door creaks open. Spencer stumbles into the apartment, his usually composed demeanor is shattered by his drunken state. The scent of alcohol clung to him like a suffocating fog, tainting the air with its bitter presence.

My eyes widen as I take in the sight of him- disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, and an unsteady gait. My heart slightly sinks at the realization that he's drowned his troubles in a sea of intoxication.

  "Where the fuck have you been, Spencer?" I whisper, my voice a fragile thread in the air. "Auggie has been worried sick." I won't tell him it was me too. I can't tell him.

Spencer lets out a humorless laugh, his voice slurring. "Worried? Quite lying to me, please. It's not nice to lie to someone drunk."

My heart aches at the despair etched across his face. I've seen him at his lowest moments before, but this...this is different- this is a man unraveling before my eyes. "C'mon. Sit down." I say, guiding him toward the couch. he collapses onto it, his body heavy with the weight of his actions.

My gaze shifts to the bedroom door, where our son, Auggie, lies fast asleep, unaware of the chaos that has consumed our lives. I swallow the lump in my throat, tearing between tending to Spencer's needs and letting him fall.

  "Spencer, what did you do?" I ask, my voice filling with a mix of concern and frustration.

He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, his words slurring together. "Drunk."

  "Why?"

  "Because. I let you down. I let Auggie down. I let the team down. I hate myself for it."

Tears well up in my eyes as I watch him struggle, his vulnerability lays bare. I had loved him once, I had believed in the goodness that he had. "Spence-"

   "Stop. Stop stop stop. Let me talk." His speech slurs. "I hate this. I hate fighting with you. I never wanted to hurt you or Auggie. Now you're in this fucking mess because of me and I ha-hate myself for it. I never wanted this."

  "Spence, look at me," I demand, grabbing his face in both my hands. His eyes meet mine, clouded with remorse. "I am in this stupid fucking mess because of you, but that doesn't mean you can get drunk and not come home for two days. Do you know the kind of trouble you could've gotten yourself into?" My hands are trembling.

His puppy-dog eyes stare into mine, looking at my lips before saying "I'm scared. I'm scared of losing everyone. I'm scared of losing you and Auggie."

  "I know you like trying to take on things by yourself. But we're supposed to be a team. And teams always do things together. You understand?"

He nods and I stand up from the couch, taking his hand in mine and leading him into the bathroom. I turn on the shower and help him strip, before stripping myself and helping him wash.

I shuffle through his drawers as I look for clothes while he just sits on the edge of his bed, the towel still wrapped around his waist. I look at him. "What?"

  "You're pretty." He says with a drunken smile.

I huff and roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Get dressed pretty boy." I say.

He doesn't see the smile on my face as I toss him his pajamas. I turn around as he dresses and gets his bed ready, pulling down the sheets and stuff. Honestly, I should really let him do all this by himself. However, I'm not and I hope it makes me a good person if just slightly. He settles into bed and I hand him a glass of cold water and a pill that I set down on his side table.

  "You're going to need it tomorrow morning," I tell him and he smiles. I go to get up and leave but he grasps my wrist which forces me to look back.

  "Why'd you stop Auggie's video diary?" His speech is still slurred and it takes him a minute to get the full question out but when he does another weight settles on my chest.

  "Oh." I didn't know he found that. I want to question why he was snooping around in my room but I keep it in the back of my mind for later. "I stopped when I realized you weren't coming back."

He just looks at me and I feel exposed. Like I'm naked even though I know I'm damn well wearing clothes right now. I want to cry at the expression he's giving me, it's a cross between utter grief and blame for himself, but I also want to slap him because he's the reason it ended. His hand is still on mine, but now instead of holding my wrist he's holding my hand and I wonder how I let that happen but I don't care to brush him off either.

  "You deserve someone better." He mumbles, his mouth slightly covered by the pillow he's lying his head sideways on.

I sit down beside him, moving my hand from his and brushing stray fallen curls from out of his eyes. "I do deserve someone better." My voice is soft "But I'm choosing you."

He passes out not soon after that and I kiss his forehead before leaving the room.