Spinning

Jon opens his door before I've even gotten out of the elevator.

"Hey--"

I walk swiftly past him, into his apartment and directly into the living room where I drop my purse onto the couch, fold my arms across my chest, and focus my glare out the large window, not daring to look into his eyes, "tell me everything. Everything you've ever wanted to tell me, I want you to tell me now. You really love me? Well, you better tell me why because I've got a boyfriend who lives ten minutes from here who says he loves me too and there's a hundred and fifty thousand reasons to just accept that he's telling the truth and move on from whatever you and I have going on here."

"Say something," I demand a moment later when he doesn't respond.

"Like what?"

I spin around, flashing a glare at his tall figure, "Tell me why I'm here."

"I don't know why you're here--"

My jaw drops and I let out a huff of air, shaking my head and striding towards the door, "then I don't either, Jon."

"Wait," he's stopped me in my tracks, holding out his arm and blocking my exit.

"For what? Give me a reason to stay."

He sighs, putting his hand on my arm and chewing the inside of his lower lip, "I--" he stops, exhaling strongly and shaking his head, "Carly, I can't."

"Can't what?" I ask with a raised voice, feeling so frustrated that tears are forming in my eyes,
"can't tell me why I matter to you?"

"I just--Carly," he stops once more but then grips both my arms and holds me firmly in front of him, "It's not about that. I love you so much and you know that!"

"How can I know that? How can I trust you? You're just trying to break Patrick and I up and I don't know why and--"

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, CARLY, HE'S CHEATING ON YOU!"

I don't register his words until after he's let go of me, leaving white hand prints in my skin, "no he's not," I whisper.

Jon is just nodding, placing his hands on my cheeks this time while keeping his eyes locked on mine, "Carly, he is. I'm sorry."

"No, he's not!" I choke out, shaking my head and gripping his hands, trying weakly to pull him from me, "he can't be!"

"Carly..." he whispers, holding me steady as my head falls onto his chest and his arms wrap around me, "I'm so sorry."

"You're lying. Just tell me you're lying. Tell me you're wrong."

He's silent.

I push him away, surprised that he doesn't pull me back to him, "who is it?" I whisper, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Sarah," he says dropping his gaze but pulling me back to him, "I'm sorry."

I just shake my head, forcing myself away from him until I've reached the window where I stare outside, fighting back tears.

I've been stupid. I've been naive. I've been a twenty-two year old girl.

Jon's arms are around me before I can start bawling.

"I'm so sorry, Carly," he says again, holding me in such a warm and protective way that there's no more hurt between him and I, "I'm so, so sorry."

I can only shake my head over and over again.

"I wanted to tell you for so long, Carly. But I just didn't know how." his hand rests on my side and I pull it up to my chest, holding it tightly in my grip. He's quiet.

"Is that why you wanted us to break up all this time? Did you pretend to like me to pull me away from him?"

"Carly," he says, lifting my head up with his hand and sounding offended, "I never lied to you about how I felt. Never. Not once. I found out about them when we were in Detriot, because that happens to be where she's fr--Car, look, I'm not going to talk about this right now if it's going to make you cry. Just take a minute, alright?"

I force myself to hold back my tears and shake my head, "I can't, Jon. I--I need--"

He presses his lips hard to my forehead and holds me to him, "Breathe, baby. Breathe."

I breathe.

After a few minutes, my heart has slowed and I don't feel like crying anymore. As I bury my face in his chest, I find my voice again, "how did you find out, Jon?"

"Carly..."

I look up at him, frowning, "did he tell you?"

"No. I saw them together at the hotel."

I close my eyes and slip from his hands, folding my arms across my stomach and facing the window "Jon, promise me, never do what he did to me, okay? Never, ever hurt a girl like that.
Never cheat on her."

He steps up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders, "I won't."

"Because," I continue, abruptly turning around and kissing his lips before leaning my forehead against his, "even if you're a gold-medalist and a Stanley Cup champion and an amazing, caring, gentle, loving and compassionate man, you're still human and you can't--you can't--" I put my hand on his shoulders and he pulls my waist against his, "you can't cheat on your girlfriend or your wife or whoever you're in love with--okay? Especially not with your best friend--" my voice breaks, and his hand holds the back of my head, kissing me firmly as I force the tears back.

"I'm no better than him--" I whisper, still keeping my lips on Jon's and knowing that I'm losing my grip on reality again, "I'm just as bad, as untrusting."

"No."

I just keep my hands on his cheeks, breathing deeply and then pulling my lips from his, "Jon, I don't want to be with him anymore...if this is true, if him and Sarah are still together, I don't think I can even face him--"

"You don't have to."

I lower one hand from his cheek, placing it on his shoulder and squeezing it tightly, "I don't even remember what it was like without him," I admit weakly, "I don't even know who I am without him."

"You're Carly Ann Hughes. You're a beautiful, kind, caring, loving, confident and amazing person."

"I have to talk to him," I say, attempting to ignore what he just said, "now."

Jon just looks at me, watching as I grab my purse and attempt to fix my ruined make-up and messy hair in his hallway mirror, "I should come."

I shake my head, finishing pulling my hair up and then rushing over to him and jumping into his arms, "I don't want to ruin anything between you guys so he's not going to find out that you were the one who told me, okay?"

"But Car--"

I hold his face up, kissing those lips once more, "I'm not letting you ruin things. It's not just about the three of us, Jon. It's about an entire team, a whole organization. You guys can't be fighting because you need to be scoring goals, and winning games, and making little kids smile."

"We can do that whether or not we're fighting."

I smile, but only slightly, "well, you do it better when you're not. For me, Jon, just let me do this on my own at least for a little while."

"Promise you'll call me."

"I promise, Jon."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?"

I nod, hugging him tightly again before letting go of him and sighing, "I'll talk to you in a little while."

I leave, hurrying down the elevator, out the lobby, and into my car. The streets are slow on this February afternoon, but time moves quickly and soon enough, my apartment is in sight.

"We need to talk," I whisper ten minutes later, ringing my keys in my hands and staring at those blue eyes that have just pulled themselves from the television screen.

"About what?"

I feel my chest grow heavy with emotion but I swallow it back, "about you and I."

At this point, he mutes what he was watching and leans back, patting the back of the couch for me to come sit beside.

I don't move.

"What's wrong, babe?"

I take a deep breathe and fold my arms across my chest, watching as his own arms lower from the back of the chair and onto his side, "you, Patrick. You're what's wrong. You're still seeing her."

"Who, babe?" he asks innocently, but I see something flicker across those eyes.

"Sarah, babe," I say mockingly before seeing the look on his face.

Jesus. Jon knew all along.

I know my emotions have spilled onto my countenance and so I turn from him, trying to hide my horrified expression.

"How did you find out?" his voice is gruff, and low, as though the situation has added years of stress onto his life.

"Even though that's not the point, the girls told me."

"Carly--"

I wait for him to go on, but he says nothing, "so, we're done then."

"What? Why?"

I almost laugh but the pain from the reality of this is too great, "because I'm obviously not enough for you, and I never will be."

"You---" he has stood up and put his hands on my cheeks, pulling me to him and trying to kiss my lips, "are everything I need."

I lower my head so that I can avoid his touch, "it's over, Pat. It's done."

"Car..."

I pull his hands from my body and take two steps back from him, "I'm going to get my things."

"Carly," he says, laughing slightly, "you're not actually leaving, are you? C'mon babe," he grips my arm, pulling me to him, "we can work this out, just like before."

I tear myself from his grip, shaking my head as I walk backwards away from him, "don't. Don't even dare try to tell me that we can 'work this out'. I tried to work this out with you, Pat, and I got nothing back from you!" I stride from the room and grab my suitcase from beside the bed, quickly pulling my clothes from the closet and dropping them into the open bag. I don't know how long it is until I break down but the sooner I'm out of here, the better.

"Carly, don't pull this shit."

I look up at him in the doorway and drop my jaw, "ME pulling shit? Me?! YOU'RE the one fucking every chick you can when I'm God knows where!" I laugh without humor, pulling my things from the counters and drawers and dropping them into the open bag with unnecessary force.

"I haven't even seen her for--"

I catch his gaze again and note the guilt on his face, "for how long, Pat? A week? Two days? Twenty minutes?"

He rolls his eyes but I can tell he's visibly frustrated, "you're overreacting and you're making a mess--" he steps over to me and proceeds to throw whatever is in my bag out of it and onto both the bed and the floor.

"Pat!" I yell out, attempting to pick the items up but he rips them from my hands and throws them back.

"YOU'RE NOT LEAVING," he yells out, flipping the suitcase over and walking from the room. I can only gape at his retreating figure before clasping a hand to my mouth and failing to fight back tears. Shakily, I pick up my purse and walk slowly out to the living room where he's sitting with his face in his hands. I won't let him get to me. I won't fall back into his arms. I won't try to help him, and fix his fucked up vision of life. I won't do it anymore.

I go over to him without hesitating and kneel, lifting his head and holding it in my hands. "I loved you so much, Patrick Timothy Kane. You meant everything to me."

He's silently crying but I can't tell if the tears are from sadness or from anger.

"We tried, Pat. We did. But I can't share you and I'm sorry for that."

He closes his eyes, leaning into my hand and kissing my palm. I pull myself back from him, though, and carefully lift my hands to remove the necklace round my neck that he gave me all those months ago.

"You're going to make someone really happy one day," I tell him, closing the necklace in his hand and then kissing his forehead for the last time, "and I really hope you treat her better than you treated me."

I stand up and watch those blue eyes fill with pain and frustration. He doesn't think I'm leaving. I see it in his eyes. But as much as I do love him, I don't know how I can possible forgive him and that is why it has to end.

It just has to.