Page 100 of Misconducts & Temptation
Yet here I was, feeling more awkward than ever.
My wife’s laughter pulled me from my thoughts.
Wife.
The word still felt foreign on my tongue.
I glanced back at her, watching as she navigated the Mercedes around the cemetery’s narrow paths. She nearly ran over a curb, and I winced.
“Elodie!” I called out, my voice cutting through the rain. She stopped the car abruptly, giving me an apologetic smile through the windshield. I shook my head but couldn’t help but smile back.
It was strange, having someone to share these moments with. For so long, I had built walls around myself, keeping everyone at arm’s length. But Elodie had slipped through the cracks, bringing light into places I hadn’t even realized were dark.
I turned back to my mother’s grave, feeling a strange mix of guilt and relief. Guilt for not visiting more often; relief for not being alone anymore.
“Elodie,” I called again as she stepped out of the car and walked toward me. “You’re going to wreck that thing.”
She laughed softly and joined me under the umbrella I held. “Sorry about that,” she said, her eyes filled with warmth despite the rain. “I’m still getting used to driving.”
I looked back at the grave and then at her. “Get your shit together, babes,” I murmured.
We stood there in silence for a moment before she took my hand in hers. The warmth of her touch grounded me.
“Keaton,” she said softly, squeezing my hand gently.
“I know,” I replied.
And for the first time in years, standing there beside my mother’s grave with Elodie by my side, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I belonged there after all.
“Did you tell her?” Elodie asked.
“Tell her what?” I had asked, half-distracted.
“Tell your mom about the draft.”
I looked around, feeling the weight of her words. The cemetery was quiet, the only sounds the patter of rain and distant rustle of leaves. “She’s not here,” I muttered.
Elodie rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not going to talk to a rock,” I said, my tone sharper than intended.
“Well, I’m going to talk to my parents and tell them what a delightful man I’ve married,” she said, turning back toward the car. “I’ll be a couple of streets over?—”
“I know where St. Michael is,” I interrupted. “I’ll find you. I’ll just follow the destruction.”
She didn’t bother to comment, but I allowed myself a small smile as she walked away. Her presence had become a strange comfort, something I never thought I'd need or want.
Once she was out of sight, I turned back to the grave. The rain had lessened, now just a light drizzle. I took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs.
“Hey, Mom,” I said quietly. It felt awkward, talking to someone who wasn’t there. But her words nagged at me. “So... the draft’s coming up. NHL scouts have already reached out. You know.”
I paused, listening to the silence as if expecting an answer. “Dad’s… gotten better. He actually came to a summer practice. Embarrassed the shit out of me, but still. He came.” My smirk widened slightly.
“Elodie and I... we’re figuring things out.” My voice softened when I mentioned her name. “She’s... different.”
I glanced around again, feeling foolish for talking to a grave marker. But it also felt oddly liberating. “I wish you were here,” I whispered, the words barely audible over the rain.
My chest ached, a dull, persistent throb that had nothing to do with the cold or the rain. It was the kind of pain that settled deep, refusing to leave no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.
