Page 83 of Misconducts & Temptation

Elodie

Iforced myself to walk into Keaton's house, one foot in front of the other. My breath hitched as I crossed the threshold, but I reminded myself to be brave. This wasn't the time to falter.

Keaton's hand wrapped around my waist, his touch grounding me in the moment. It surprised me how much comfort I drew from that simple gesture. Despite everything, I found a kind of peace in his presence.

We moved through the grand hallway, each step echoing against the polished floors. I couldn't help but feel out of place in this lavish environment, but I kept my head high, determined not to let it show.

As we approached the dining room, I heard a murmur of conversation drifting through the air. My heart pounded louder with each step. Among those voices was one I didn’t recognize at all—Lola. I didn't understand why she would be here, but I knew better than to draw attention to it. Keaton was my husband now, and that meant standing by his side.

Keaton didn't stop at the dining room. Instead, he guided me toward a staircase leading to the upper floors. I glanced at him, wanting to ask why we were heading upstairs instead of joining the others, but something in his expression told me to trust him.

We reached our bedroom door, and he pushed it open gently. He led me inside and closed the door behind us.

"Why are we here?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

He looked at me with those piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see right through me. "I wanted a moment alone with you," he said simply.

His words brought a strange sense of relief. In this house full of people and expectations, a moment alone sounded like a gift.

I nodded and took a deep breath, letting myself relax for the first time since we arrived. This wasn't going to be easy, but for now, I'd trust Keaton and find strength in his presence beside me.

"You did good," Keaton said, not looking at me as he tucked the door almost shut but not quite. "Driving."

I gave him a soft smile. "I had a good teacher."

Something caught my eye, and I noticed his hands as he dropped the keys on his desk. They were battered and bruised, his knuckles raw. "Hey," I said, reaching out before he pulled back.

I ignored the way it hurt me. "Do you have bandages, or?—"

"Leave it," he said dismissively.

I clenched my jaw. I knew I should listen to him, but decided not to. "You're my husband," I said, determination lacing my voice. "I want to take care of you. Please?" I held out my hand.

"Why the fuck do you care?" he asked, though he didn't pull away this time.

"Because," I murmured, slowly reaching for his hand again, giving him an opportunity to pull away. But he didn't. "Because I do."

I looked at him then before dropping my gaze to his knuckles. His hands were rough, the skin split and bruised in several places. Red and swollen, they looked painful even at a glance. The signs of recent strain and old scars intertwined like a map of battles fought in silence.

His fight with Ashton had just been the most recent thing.

My fingers gently traced over one of the raw knuckles, feeling the heat of the inflammation beneath the skin. His breath hitched slightly, but he didn't pull away.

"Let me help," I whispered.

He remained silent, but his silence felt like permission. Carefully, I reached into my bag for the small first aid kit I always carried. It was a habit from years of taking care of myself with no one else to rely on.

I focused on Keaton's hands, carefully cleaning each cut. The wounds looked worse up close, a testament to his recent struggles. I dabbed the antiseptic gently, mindful of the sting it might cause. His silence was heavy, but I knew better than to push him.

"If you're going to the draft in a couple of weeks," I said softly, wrapping the bandages around his knuckles with care, "you need to take care of yourself."

He scoffed. "I ain't going to the draft."

My fingers paused for a moment before resuming their work. "And why not?" I asked, glancing up at him.

"You think I'll actually make it?" He shook his head, disbelief written across his face.

"Of course I do," I said firmly. "I've seen you play. You're quick on your feet, your defense is solid, and you have this way of reading the game that’s incredible. You’re a natural leader on the ice."

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