Spinning

I moved in with Patrick in the first week of December.

"You've got everything?"

I nod, grabbing my purse and doing a quick scan of the now near-empty room, "Yeah. Ready?"

He puts a firm hand on my waist and kisses my head, "Ready."

I lean on his shoulder as we turn from the bedroom which only holds a sheet less bed paired with an empty dresser, "Jill's still pissed."

"Who cares?"

I roll my eyes, stepping up to press my lips to his, "I do. She's still my friend, even if you really don't like her."

"She treats you like crap."

"You're just saying that because she never liked you."

He grins, "It's because I wouldn't sleep with her."

"What?"

He laughs, letting go of me and running down the hall.

"Patrick!" I smile, following his path down the hall, "What did you just say!"

Giggling like a child, he comes out from behind the corner and puts his hands around my middle, resting his head against my stomach, "I was just kidding. Sorry babe."

I roll my eyes, still smiling, as he suddenly picks me up, carrying me out of the room and shutting the door behind us, "Patrick!" I laugh as he keeps me on his shoulder.

"What?"

"Put me down! I don't want you to drop me!"

He moves me to his front, sitting me on his waist as my arms and legs wrap around him, "I would never drop you," he says with a sincere expression.

I roll my eyes, kissing the back of his shoulder and unwrapping my legs from his waist, settling my feet on the floor but not being released from his grip entirely as his arms stay tight around
my waist, "Never?"

The elevator doors open, "Never."

We get home, unpack, eat a little dinner and then spend the evening watching movies and relaxing. He has a game tomorrow and that means tonight will be an early one with little stress for him. Game days are different days. He's more focused and his routine is strict.

"You're hair's getting long," I say softly, moving my fingers through the thick curls as he rests his head on my chest. We've been lying in the bedroom for a while now with the movie still playing in the background. Patrick has already closed his eyes, steadying his breathing as he lays on my body, "We'll have to get it cut soon."

"Yeah," he whispers in a voice so surrounded by sleep that the syllables are almost too soft to be understood, "You'll come tomorrow, right?"

I let my fingers trail over his back, "Of course, baby."

A long silence follows and I assume he has fallen asleep. After a while, when my hand stops moving over his skin, his soft voice is heard whispering, "Goodnight, Carly. I love you."

Gosh. I love you too.

*

"Carly!"

I pull my lips from Patrick's, gasping slightly and turning to see who's calling my name.

"What're you two doing?"

I let out a sigh of relief and a grin of not being caught by someone else spreads across my face, "Andrea, you scared me!"

Ben Smith's girlfriend Andrea, a tall and pretty girl with dark blonde hair, smiles at us before continuing to skip through the basement of the arena, "Don't make him late, Car!" she teases before throwing over her shoulder, "I'll see you in a bit!"

I turn back to Patrick, shaking my head and placing a hand on his cheek with a smile, "You should go, anyway. Good luck, alright? Score me a goal."

"I'll score you three."

I smile, leaning up once more to press my lips to his, "Just do your best and be careful."

He touches his lips to mine very gently and I lean into his kiss, feeling the familiar scar on his upper lip from a high-stick however long ago it was, "I will," he says softly.

I grip his hands after that, resting my forehead just below his neck and closing my eyes. I always do this now: a simple prayer between the two of us is officially a part of his "pre-game routine". He used to roll his eyes, saying it was silly, but after a while he was the one taking my hands and reminding me to pray with him.

"God, please keep your Patrick safe tonight. Help him avoid injury, pain and allow him to do the best he can. Please keep all of the players, coaches, fans and others safe as well. We ask this in your name, Amen."

"Amen."

Pressing my lips to his one last time, I let go of his hands and he returns to the dressing rooms as I retreat upstairs.

The wives, girlfriends and children of the players have a suite to their own inside of the arena. It's a big room with food, drinks, a great view of the ice and lots of activities for the little ones to do.

"Carly!"

I smile, waving as I enter the suite, "Hey! How are you girls?"

"Great, how are you sweetie?" Brianne hugs me tightly and leads me to the table where we sit down and start to talk to the other girls.

The evening is, like all the others, a lot of fun. I play with the kids, talk to the girls and of course cheer on the Blackhawks.

"So, you and Patrick moved in together I hear?"

I smile at Breanne, Andrea and Sarah, "We did. I really didn't think we ever would but then, almost out of no where, he just asked."

"He's turning into such a sweetheart," Sarah says and they both smile, the other girls nodding in agreement, "I mean, it's been how long already?"

"Almost two years," I say with a little grin.

"That's probably the longest relationship he's ever had."

I pause, biting my lower lip and looking out onto the ice where the boys are trying to protect a one-goal lead, "I think it is."

"And you guys are still going strong even after he kissed that other girl?"

I turn to Breanne who's asked the question and feel my heart tighten with sudden emotion. Why would she bring that up? Isn't that a little personal? And, how did she even know?

"Wait...what happened?" Andrea asks suddenly, looking from my face to Breanne's.

I swallow hard as though the words I am about to say are like concrete, "Patrick got drunk at the bar one night and, well, it's in the past now."

Two of the three faces stare back at me with dropped jaws.

"I'm so sorry, Carly," Breanne suddenly blurts out, putting a firm hand on mine, "I thought they knew already."

"Why didn't you tell us!" Sarah asks, obviously ignoring my attempt at ending the conversation.

"I--I didn't think it was something that needed to be shared. It was sort of just between Pat and I."

Andrea looks at me with a face of concern, "I can't believe he did that to you, Carly. When was this?"

So, unable to avoid the subject, I explain to them the incident that occurred nearly two months back even though the thought of it still fills my stomach with dread.

"Wow."

I nod slowly, keeping my eyes on the ice and watching the boys, "But like I said, it's in the past. We figured it out."

"And you still...love him? Even after what he did?"

I turn to Audrea, hesitate in my response, "I guess I do. The way I saw it, I had two choices: forgive him and move on or forget him and go. I couldn't forget him so I forgave him. The whole 'second chance' kind of came into play." ...and a whole lot of tears.

She opens her mouth to respond but without a second's warning, the United Center erupts in a collective sound of concern and noise and I turn just in time to see the puck hit Patrick square in the face.

"Oh my god."

*

"Here, babe."

He takes the icepack from my hand, touching it to his face and wincing immediately.

"Oh, sweetie..."

His eyes are closed now but he still manages to put a strong arm around me and pull me to his chest, "I'm okay. It's just really cold."

I shake my head, putting a hand on his uninjured cheek and frowning. He's a liar but I'm not going to call out his strength anytime soon. Hell, he barley missed a shift when he got stitched up.

"I think you cried more than I did," he teases and opens one eye, grinning at me the best he can before wincing again at the pain.

"I did not," I say softly, frowning still as I move my fingers over his face where the bruises are already forming, "Doesn't it hurt?"

"A little," he admits as I settle my hands on his shoulder, looking at the gash sitting to the left of his right eye. I hate it when he's hurt. It still kills me every time I see him in pain. No matter how many times he might get injured, it never gets any easier.

"You know, I was almost sure you were going to run down to the locker room and start fixing me yourself."

I smile, now, even though it's a tiny smile at that, "The girls wouldn't let me."

He lets out a little laugh and I curl up onto his chest, using a wet cloth to wipe off the small line of blood sliding down his nose, "That sounds--ow--just like them."

I press my lips to his very softly and settle a hand on his arm, staring at his closed eyes and the way he flinches every other moment in little spurts of pain and suddenly, almost abruptly, I feel an overwhelming sense of protection for him. I feel like I need to make sure he never is hurt or scared or sad.

"I'll be right back," I whisper and slide from his hold.

"Where are you--"

I've already turned the corner, shutting the bedroom door behind me and gasping for air the moment I do so.

...and you still love him, even after what he did?

I clasp a hand over my mouth to avoid bursting into audible sobs.

...If you fall in love with him, you're risking everything. Your career, your friends, your family: your whole life.

My Father's voice echoes in my mind but I force the thoughts from my mind and enter the bathroom where I splash water on my face.

It was just a puck. A puck has never killed anyone.

But what if it had? What if he had gotten injured worse by some other means? What if I lost him? What if he didn't get back up?

He didn't. He's fine.

But what if?

"Carly?"

I turn off the water and look towards the locked bathroom door.

"You okay?"

Wiping the water from my face, I slowly unlock the door and look up to where Pat is staring down at me with his face swollen, bruised and stitched.

"Carly, what's wrong? Are you crying?"

I don't hesitate a moment longer as I wrap myself around him and bury my face in his strong arms, "I--I--I--I don't want to lose you."

"Lose me?" he laughs a little, "Car, you're not going to lose me."

I sniff, holding him tighter and squeezing my eyes shut, "You got--you're hurt and--and--you could have--b--been really, really hurt--and--"

Perhaps it was just the injury and perhaps it was the injury topped with the whole notion of the bar incident being brought back into perspective. Maybe it was even the sudden realization that if Patrick was gone, I wouldn't have a whole lot left in my life. All my family, friends and even my career was all left behind in Toronto just like my Dad had warned me.

"You're not going to lose me, Carly. You'll never lose me," Patrick's saying now, rubbing my back and making his voice very soothing like the way he might talk to a young child, "You worry too much, babe. I'm always going to be here for you, okay? I promise you that. Actually," he lets go of me and goes back into the bedroom where he kneels beside the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling something which he encloses in his fist and brings back to me.

"Oh, gosh," I laugh, wiping away a tear and letting a smile come onto my face, "No more 'presents'," I say and turn away from him but he puts a hand on my side and pulls me back.

"I barley get you gifts," he says and then opens his palm where a thin silver necklace lays, accompanied by a small diamond and a small ornament shaped into a heart, engraved with the initials PK and CH.

"Patrick..."

He smiles, lifting it up and putting it around my neck, "I was suppose to give it to you at the dinner this weekend because Sharpie said that would be a good time but I think right now is bes--this thing is way too small for me!"

I bite my lip, smiling and taking the clasp in my own fingers and closing the two sides neatly together before turning back to face him, "You don't have to buy me expensive things to make me feel better," I say simply, putting my lips to his and resting a hand on his shoulder.

"This is different."

I raise my eyebrows in the slightest, "What do you mean?"

He sighs and puts his fingers over the diamond, bringing his hand up to my chin and kissing me, "It means something."

"And that would be?"

He leans in to kiss me once more,sighing heavily, "I've made a lot of mistakes," he says in a soft voice, "and I know I'm not the easiest guy to date, with all these scars and bruises--"

"--I love your scars and bruises."

He smiles, obviously ignoring the pain as he does so, "and I love you. Just know that no matter what happens on the ice, or whatever happened off of it, I'm always going to be yours. You'll never lose me," he lets his hand trail down my chest before settling on my waist, "That's what this means."

I smile, leaning up and pressing my lips to his, careful to avoid the sore parts of his face, "Do you promise?"

"I swear, Carly."

Hugging him tightly, we turn off the lights and head back to the living room where I fix the mess that is his injury. He is exhausted as despite his efforts to stay up, it's not very long until he's fast asleep in my arms.

I want to believe him, I really do, but for some reason there is a dark cloud hanging over me as I lie here on the sofa.

Sometimes, a girl can just tell when something isn't right.