24. Keaton
Chapter 24
Keaton
A s I stormed across campus, rage boiled in my veins. Ashton had the audacity to think he could have Elodie? That piece of shit didn't know what he was messing with. I clenched my fists, knuckles white, each step heavier than the last. The chatter of students and the rustling of leaves were mere background noise. My mind was singularly focused on one thing: making Ashton pay.
The path blurred as I marched toward Pandora's Box. Each step resonated with the pounding in my chest, echoing my frustration. Crestwood Academy's manicured lawns and grand buildings meant nothing when my mind was a storm. The campus was a gilded cage, and I was its most prized prisoner.
The moment I pushed through the double doors of Pandora's Box, the familiar chill of the ice rink hit me, a welcome I couldn't acknowledge. The air was crisp, almost biting, and the smell of ice and rubber filled my nostrils. The rink stretched out in front of me, an expanse of pristine white marred only by faint scuffs from practice sessions. It was a place that demanded precision and control, qualities I usually thrived on.
Rows of seats surrounded the rink, empty now but capable of holding hundreds of spectators who came to watch us dominate. The overhead lights bathed the ice in a harsh, clinical glow, casting long shadows that danced with every movement. Banners hung from the rafters, boasting our victories and reminding everyone of Crestwood’s legacy—a legacy I was expected to uphold.
The Titans' locker room door stood at the far end. It felt like miles away as I made my way across the rink's polished surface. My skates would have glided effortlessly here, but in my shoes, every step seemed heavier, dragging me down into a vortex of obligation and expectation.
Inside the locker room, the familiar scent of sweat and leather greeted me. Wooden benches lined the walls beneath rows of metal lockers, each one marked with a player's name and number. My locker stood out—number 88—a symbol of strength and control on the ice, attributes I felt slipping away off it.
I found Ashton in the locker room, bent over, unlacing his skates. His face was flushed, likely from a recent skate, and sweat dampened his hair. The moment he saw me, his smirk vanished.
“Keaton,” he began, but I cut him off with a punch to his fucking stupid-ass mouth.
“What the fu?—?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with Elodie?” My voice echoed off the metal lockers, each word a bullet aimed at him.
He straightened up slowly, hands hovering between going for his laces and putting them back up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” I growled, stepping closer. “You’ve been sniffing around her, and I don’t like it.”
He chuckled, a sound that grated on my nerves. “Since when do you care about Elodie? She’s just the locker room attendant.”
“She’s more than that, and you fucking know it,” I snapped. “You better stay away from her. Don't fuck with her, Ash.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think you can tell me what to do?”
“I know I can,” I replied, my voice low and dangerous. “You mess with her again, and you’ll regret it. It's a fucking promise."
He stood up, tossing his skates into his locker with a careless clatter. “Why do you care so much? She’s just another girl.”
“Because she’s not yours to fuck with,” I said through gritted teeth. “To touch. To fucking look at her.”
“And she’s yours?” He sneered.
My fists clenched at my sides, every muscle in my body screaming for release. “Consider this your only warning.”
Ashton stepped closer, invading my space. “Or what?”
The tension between us was palpable, a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. My hands itched to wipe that smug look off his face, but I held back—barely. I wanted to see what he would do… what he would say.
Would he really be stupid enough to get me to punch him again?
Fucking child.
“Try me,” I said quietly.
He snickered, his laughter a knife twisting in my gut. “You never gave a damn about anyone but yourself, Keaton. Now you’re all worked up over some locker room attendant?”
“She’s my wife,” I growled, the words tasting bitter yet resolute on my tongue.
“Yeah, something else that doesn’t make sense,” he snapped back, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “You had Lola, and yet, you married Elodie. What a downgrade.”
That was it. I couldn’t restrain myself any longer. My fist flew, connecting with Ashton’s jaw with a satisfying crack. He staggered back, clutching his face in shock.
“She’s not a downgrade,” I spat, advancing on him. “Elodie is worth more than you or Lola will ever be.”
Ashton recovered quickly, rage lighting up his eyes. He lunged at me, and we collided with the lockers behind me, the metal doors rattling from the impact. His fists swung wildly, but I ducked and delivered a blow to his ribs.
“You think you can touch her?” I hissed between punches. “She’s mine. She belongs to me.”
He swung again, catching me in the shoulder, but the pain only fueled my anger. I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the bench. He grunted in pain as I pinned him down.
“Stay away from her,” I growled, each word punctuated by a punch to his face. “You hear me? She’s not yours to mess with. Or I will fucking kill you."
Ashton struggled beneath me, but he was no match for my fury. His attempts to fight back grew weaker with each hit until he finally went limp, panting heavily.
“You understand?” I demanded, leaning closer so he could see the fire in my eyes.
“Yeah,” he gasped, blood trickling from his split lip. “I understand.”
I released him roughly and stood up, breathing hard. Ashton lay on the floor, battered and beaten, a pitiful sight compared to the arrogant prick who had taunted me moments ago.
“Elodie is mine,” I repeated, my voice steady now. “And if you ever come near her again, I’ll kill you, Ashton. Fucking try it.”
He didn’t respond; he just lay there, clutching his ribs and glaring up at me with fear and hatred.
I turned away from him without another word and left the locker room. I stormed out of Pandora's Box, my knuckles still throbbing from the confrontation with Ashton. The cold air outside bit at my skin, but it was a welcome relief after the heat of the fight. My breath came out in visible puffs as I crossed the parking lot to my car. There she was—Elodie, sitting in the front seat, her eyes wide and questioning.
Good. She listened to me.
I yanked open the driver’s door and slid into the seat beside her. Without a word, I pulled her in for a kiss, urgent and fierce. Her lips parted for me immediately, something else I liked about her. My tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring, conquering every inch. Her taste was intoxicating, a mix of sweetness and something uniquely Elodie.
Finally, I pulled away, my forehead resting against hers as I caught my breath.
“Mine,” I whispered, my voice rough with emotion.
“Yours,” she replied, breathless.
I started the car, the engine roaring to life under my command. Without another glance back at Pandora's Box, we drove off together into the night.
“What did you do?”
I kept my eyes on the road, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I don't think you want to know that.”
She pursed her lips, a stubborn look settling on her face before she turned to look at me. “I'm your wife,” she said. “I'd like to know.”
A sigh escaped my lips. “I beat him with my bare hands and threatened to kill him if he touched you again.” I pulled out a cigarette but didn’t light it, needing something to occupy my hands.
Glancing at her, I noticed her legs were crossed tightly together.
“You… you like that, don't you?” I asked, a smirk forming on my lips. “You like that I would kill for you.”
Elodie opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she looked out the window, her silence speaking volumes.
“Don't be ashamed, babes,” I said, placing my hand on her bare thigh. “We all have a little darkness in us.”
Her skin was warm under my touch, and I felt her shiver slightly. The smirk widened as I drove, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction knowing that she understood my world in ways she probably never expected.
Her brow furrowed, her eyes flicking between me and the road ahead.
“Where are we going?” she finally asked, her voice hesitant.
I didn’t answer right away, letting the anticipation build. The engine’s purr filled the silence as we left the familiar paths of Crestwood behind. We pulled into an empty church parking lot, the vast space stretching out before us under the dim streetlights. The emptiness of the lot mirrored the quiet stillness of the afternoon.
I killed the engine and stepped out of the car. Elodie followed, a frown on her face.
“I’m going to teach you how to drive,” I said, my voice firm but gentle.
Her eyes widened as she took in the Maserati’s sleek lines. “A Maserati?”
I shrugged. “Might as well learn from something good.”
“But what if…” she began, her voice trailing off with uncertainty.
“I’ll be right here,” I assured her, my gaze steady on hers. “You trust me?”
She looked at me for a long moment before nodding slowly. Without another word, she slid into the driver’s seat, and I took my place in the passenger seat beside her.
“All right,” I said, settling in and turning slightly to face her. “First thing’s first—adjust your seat and mirrors.”
Elodie moved hesitantly at first, fiddling with the seat controls until she found a comfortable position. Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the mirrors, and I could see the anxiety etched on her face.
“Good,” I said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Now, put your foot on the brake and start the car.”
She pressed down on the brake pedal with a tentative foot and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life beneath us, and she jumped slightly at the sound.
“Relax,” I said softly. “You’ve got this.”
She took a deep breath, her fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.
“Okay,” I continued. “Now shift into drive and gently press down on the gas pedal.”
Her movements were cautious as she shifted gears and eased onto the gas. The car moved forward smoothly, and a small smile tugged at her lips as she realized she was doing it.
“See? Not so hard,” I said with a chuckle. “Now just steer us around the lot.”
She maneuvered slowly at first but grew more confident with each turn of the wheel. As we circled around the empty parking lot, her nerves seemed to settle, replaced by a growing sense of accomplishment.
“You’re doing great,” I encouraged her. “Keep it up.”
Pride flared in my chest, hot and satisfying. My girl was a quick learner.
"Go faster," I told her, watching as her eyes widened with a mix of excitement and fear.
Elodie bit her bottom lip, hesitating for just a moment before pressing down on the gas pedal. The car jerked forward, and she panicked, slamming her foot on the brake. We lurched to a stop, and she turned to me with eyes so wide they looked like they might pop out of her head.
"It's not—" she began, her voice trembling.
I cut her off with a kiss, pressing my lips against hers firmly. "You're going to drive us home, babes," I said, pulling back just enough to see her reaction.
"What? No, I?—"
"Shut up for a sec," I said, placing a finger gently over her lips. Her eyes were still wide, but there was something else there now—a spark of determination. "You've got this. You're tougher than you think."
I kissed her again, moving from her mouth to the curve of her neck. Her skin was warm under my lips, and I could feel her pulse quicken. When I pulled back, our eyes locked.
"I trust you," I told her quietly.
This seemed to startle her more than anything else. She stared at me for a moment, processing my words before giving a small nod.
Her hands returned to the steering wheel, gripping it with renewed focus. She shifted the car back into drive and took another deep breath.
"I can do this," she whispered to herself. "I can do this. I can do this."
And then we were moving again.
I watched her knuckles whiten around the steering wheel; the car inching forward with painstaking caution. The roar of the engine hummed beneath us, a powerful beast she barely controlled.
"Okay, babes," I said, my voice calm and steady. "Now, keep your foot steady on the gas. Don’t slam it down. Just a gentle press."
She nodded, biting her lip in concentration. The car moved a bit smoother now, gaining speed without jerking forward.
"Good," I continued. "Now turn the wheel slightly to the right. We’re going to circle around again."
She did as instructed, her movements becoming more fluid. I could still see the tension in her shoulders, though—every muscle coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.
"Ease up a bit," I told her. "You’re doing fine."
She took another deep breath and loosened her grip slightly. The car responded better, gliding over the asphalt like it was meant to.
"That’s it," I said with a hint of pride in my voice. "You’ve got this."
Despite her visible progress, I could sense the anxiety bubbling just beneath the surface. I reached out and placed a hand on her thigh, hoping to offer some reassurance.
Her reaction surprised me. The moment my hand made contact, she visibly relaxed. Her shoulders dropped, and her grip on the wheel eased even further. She trusted me—something that no one else ever had.
Not even Lola at the height of our relationship had looked at me with such faith in their eyes.
But this girl? Elodie?
It boggled my mind. Why did she trust me? Lord knows I didn't deserve it. I'd spent most of my life pushing people away, convinced they’d only let me down or use me.
"You're doing great," I murmured, my thumb gently stroking her thigh.
She shot me a quick glance and smiled—a small, hesitant smile that tugged at something deep inside me.
Driving home was a mixture of tension and unexpected pride. Elodie gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, but she kept the car steady, her focus intense. I watched her from the passenger seat, my hand resting on her thigh, giving her the confidence she needed. She was doing better than I expected, considering she’d never driven anything before.
Her eyes flicked to mine briefly before returning to the road. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the engine’s purr.
As we neared a busy intersection, a car behind us honked impatiently. Elodie jumped, nearly swerving off the road.
“Don’t listen to that asshole,” I said sharply. “Just keep going.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath and steadying herself. The honking continued for a few seconds before the car sped past us, its driver flipping us off through the window.
“See? Just an asshole,” I muttered, watching as Elodie’s grip on the wheel tightened again.
We continued down the road until we finally turned onto my street. Relief washed over me as we pulled into the driveway, but it quickly turned into irritation when I saw a sleek black Jaguar parked there.
“Fucking hell,” I groused under my breath.
“What?” Elodie asked, concern lacing her voice.
“Shift into brake, babes,” I snapped.
She winced but did as I instructed; the car coming to a smooth stop in front of my house.
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “That car,” I said, jerking my finger toward the Jaguar. “That belongs to Lola.”
Elodie’s eyes widened as she looked at the car and then back at me. “What’s she doing here?”
I didn’t have an answer for that. All I knew was that Lola showing up unannounced never led to anything good.
"I guess we're about to find out."