Spinning

I drove until I didn't want to drive anymore.

Rolling my SUV to a stop, I let my head fall onto the steering wheel that I'm gripping tightly with my hands. Tears slip from my closed eyes and beside me, my phone is still vibrating with alerts I've received.

It's snowing outside again and in the far east skies, I can see the horizon turning into faint shades of purple and red, signaling the approach of dawn. How long have I been out here?
I lean back in my seat, keeping the car turned on and wiping tears from my cheeks. With the sun rising, it's officially December 21st.

I feel my stomach tighten with pain. I left Patrick. I left Patrick three days before Christmas.
Pulling the phone out from my purse, and ignoring all the messages on it, I dial the number with shaky fingers.

"Daddy? It's Ca--" but the sound of his voice causes me to burst into tears and before I can even say my own name, "He--he--" and it doesn't take a second longer until I'm telling my Father everything, from what Sarah said about Florida to the kiss in the bar.

"Where are you, Carly?"

I swallow hard, trying to maintain some sort of composure, "My car."

"At the apartment?" he asks carefully.

"No."

He sighs heavily, probably removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes like he often does,
"Carly, I know I've always been against this...relationship you have with Patrick but," he pauses and I can hear his voice become softer, "but I think you need to speak directly to him and not Sarah or whoever else you spoke with. Do you understand?"

I sniff, pulling my legs onto the car seat and staring off into the skyline, "I don't know how to talk to him anymore, Daddy."

"Of course you do."

"I don't," I reply weakly, "I can't figure out when he's lying or when he's telling the truth and then everyone around us tells me different stories. I don't know what's real and what isn't."

He sighs once more and there's a long pause before he replies, "You know him, Carly. Hell, you probably know him better than you know yourself," a door shuts behind him as he continues speaking in a lowered voice, "It's all a matter of communication."

A whimper escapes my lips and I close my eyes, wanting to prove to him so badly that I'm stronger than this.

"Carly, honey, I wish I could make it all better. I really do. But for now, you need to trust me and understand that the only way to solve this is to go and speak with him and only him, not anyone else."

I nod, even though he can't see me, "Okay."

"Then give me a call back and let me know the real story. Sound good?"

A small smile comes upon my face at the familiarity of his last two words, "Sounds good."

"I love you, baby," he says after clearing his throat.

"I love you, too."

About an hour later, I'm carefully knocking on Patrick's door with a tired hand. I haven't planned any sort of speech or even thought about what I'm going to say but there's no way I could turn back now.

"Carly."

I lift my eyes to meet his as he stands in front of me. He's not that much taller than I am but those few inches, and that extensive amount of muscle, suddenly makes him appear almost twice as large as ever before. He makes an involuntary movement as if to reach out and hold me but quickly, he stops himself and instead keeps to looking at me with eyes so full of emotion that I cannot help but stare into them even deeper.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, letting the words fall from his lips as if he couldn't contain them for a moment longer.

"Can we talk?"

He nods quickly, stepping to the side and allowing me to come inside. I've never felt this small or this fragile in a very, very long time.

"Pat..."

He makes another move to hold me but I lower my eyes and avoid his arms.

"I need you--" I swallow, sitting down on the couch across from him, "to tell me everything."

He keeps his eyes on mine, unsmiling and looking unsteady, "I--well, of course. What do you mean 'everything'?"

I simply lower my stare and fight my want to get up and leave, "What do you think I mean?" I reply coolly, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Carly," he starts, "I'm just so sorry about all of this."

I force myself to look up and for the first time, I notice how tired he is. From the redness of his eyes to the deep circles that sit beneath them, I wonder if he'd spent the majority of the night awake.

"I didn't want you to find out this way," he continues, though his voice has grown weak upon our eyes making contact, "I was suppose to be the one to tell you. Not Sarah."

My heart has tightened in my chest and it feels like cotton has filled my throat. So it really happened then: he cheated on me. Twice. And he never said a thing until now.

"Carly, please hear me out, okay? Please don't leave."

His hand touches my knee and I grow cold. The fear of reality, of what has actually occurred, makes me feel sick to my stomach.

"Let me explain, Carly," he says again, staring me firm in the eyes as I slowly sick back down, having apparently stood, "Just give me a moment."

I can't find my voice.

"Baby," he says instead, squeezing my hands and looking at me with almost desperate eyes, "I never--"

I shake my head, interrupting him and pulling my hand from his grip to instead grip his shoulder. I don't want to hear his apology nor an explanation because I know exactly what happened. I can only rest my forehead on the shoulder that I'm clutching tightly, breathing softly and closing my eyes, "Why do I still love you, Pat? Why doesn't it matter what you did?"
He seems to freeze and I only clutch him tighter, breathing in his familiar scent and trying my best to not cry, "I don't understand it, I don't understand why I still want you, even after what happened. It's so stupid."

His hands falls from my back and his shoulder seems to slump under my weight.

"I still love you and that's what kills me. Why should I still love someone that doesn't love me the same way? You slept with Sarah," I add quickly when he tries to speak, "you made out with someone you didn't even know and you never told me a thing about any of it," a shaky laugh leaves my lips, "and yet, Mr. Patrick Kane, I would crawl right back into your arms even if you did it all over again."

"You wouldn't."

I look up, meeting his gaze and seeing his own eyes glazed over by emotions, "I probably would," I say, wiping the tears from his face and kissing his lips, "I would because I will always love you. No matter what the hell happens, or how many girls you sleep with, I'm going to still love you with so much of my heart and soul that's it's going to destroy me."

He doesn't say anything and I can't stop moving my hands and fingers over his cheeks, neck, arms and chest just to hold him, and feel his familiar body. I need him more than I can even understand.

"Carly, I'm sorry."

I shake my head, running my fingers through his curls and frowning, "No you're not. Why would you be sorry?"

"Because I cheated on you, Carly. Because I hurt you. But, I love you too. Okay? That's all there is to it. I love you, I love you, I--" he presses his lips to mine, "love you. Understand that. Four months ago, I slept with Sarah. I did. We were both drunk, I missed you way too much, and she was right there. So, we did it. And you know what? All I could see was you."

My fingers are white from gripping his shoulder so tightly.

"Carly, I regretted it with everything I had. I woke up that morning and I wanted to call you right that moment and tell you everything but I was too afraid of you leaving and of...of losing you."

"So you chose to just not tell me?"

He opens his mouth to reply but closes it again, placing his hand on mine so that I loosen my grip on his skin, "I've been wanting to tell you for sixteen weeks, Carly. I just didn't know how."

"You're suppose to be able to tell me anything."

He leans forwards, resting his forehead to mine, but I push him gently back.

"You're suppose to be honest with me."

He closes his eyes, touching his lips to my cheek and moving my hair behind my ear, "I tried."

"You didn't."

He sighs, putting his lips to mine and I don't pull away, "How do we fix this?" he asks me softly, keeping his lips on mine.

"I'm not sure," I say simply, moving my fingers over his cheek where the stitches are slowly healing, "Maybe we should take a break."

"A break?"

I sigh, unable to let go of him, "Yes, a break. We'll go do our own things for a little while and then go from there. I've been meaning to visit my parents for a while now anyway so you can have the apartment and I'll--"

"Carly, no..."

I focus my eyes back onto his and blink slowly, "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I don't want to take a break."

A frown comes onto my face at the sound of his soft, almost scared, "I think you need a couple weeks to think about what you really want and I...I need some time to think."

He just shakes his head, leaning forwards and resting his head on my shoulder where he
proceeds to kiss my skin my exposed skin, "I know exactly what I want."

"And what would that be?"

"You."

I close my eyes, leaning forwards onto his chest with my left hand running through his hair. I'm not mad at him anymore and, if anything, I forgive him entirely.

"It was months ago, Carly. I swear to you I haven't been with anyone other then you since then and besides that night, and the night at the bar, you've been the only girl I've--you know--the only girl." He touches his lips to the top of my head and holds me close to him, "I'm not going to do it again. I would never do it again."

"How many chances am I suppose to give you?"

He lifts my chin so that my lips touch his, "One more, baby."

I close my eyes, putting my hands on his shoulders as he puts his on my waist and pulls me onto his lap, "and what if you do it again?"

"I won't."

I keep kissing him, unable to stop. It's like falling into a trap, "I want to be able to trust you, Patrick. I want you to tell me the truth, even if that means sharing your mistakes. I want to be enough for you."

He kisses me again, holding my cheek in his palm and whispering, "You are, baby. You're more than enough."

His cell phone rings I pull my lips from his, leaning back onto the couch and nodding for him to answer it, knowing it's probably important, "Jon? Yeah. Hey. I'm going to have to call you back I'm--yeah, we're talking--I know, I'll be there. Bye."

"Do you have to go?"

He shakes his head, "Not until nine."

"It's eight fifty-seven."

He chews his lower lip before pressing them to mine, "Then I guess we'll have to do this quickly."

I furrow my brow, "Do what quickly?"

"Talk. Figure this out. Fix things."

He's scared. For the first time, I see fear in those blue eyes, "It takes time to fix things."

"I don't have a lot of that."

"Should we postpone until the off-season?" I tease gently, trying to soothe him somehow.
He shakes his head, half-smiling as he takes my hands and kisses my palms, "I can't be away from you, Carly. Not for a day, or a week, or a month. I can't."

Blinking slowly, I kiss him once more, "You better get going, or Tazer'll have your ass."

"Promise you'll be here when I get back."

I can't help myself as I wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck, "I promise. Now, go change. and be safe."

"I will."

I let him go as he hurries into his bedroom, quickly putting on his suit before meeting my lips once more as his strong hand holds my back steady, "I love you," he whispers firmly, "I'll be home by eleven."

I sit there for a long time, trying to figure out what exactly just happened.

First of all, I'm completely and madly still in love with him. That is something I know for sure.
But why do I still love him without any consequence, despite what happened? Why can I forgive him with only a very minimal hesitation? It isn't logical.

Though, maybe that's part of what love is. Or part of stupidity.

I shake my head, confused beyond what I can handle. Am I just that desperate for him? Or is he just a very, very persuasive individual?

Probably the latter of the two.

I start picking up the clothes he's strewn around the apartment. There's dirty dishes in and around the sink so I wash those, wiping off the counters and sweeping the floors. By a few hours or so, the apartment is cleaner then it has been in a long while.

By eleven, as the morning sun streams through his huge window-framed apartment, I walk over to the couch and lay down. Exhaustion has finally hit me and the moment I close my eyes, I've fallen asleep.

"Hey, sweetie."

I open my eyes slowly, breathing deeply as he crawls onto the wide couch beside me,

"What're you doing home?"

"Pre-game nap," he whispers, kissing my cheek as I curl into his chest and close my eyes once more.

"Why's it so dark then?" I ask, apparently a little delusional as he chuckles and kisses the top of my head.

"I closed the curtains," he says, grinning, before pulling me closer to his body, "Now, go back to sleep, baby."

When I wake up for the second time, he's gone. I sit up, wrapping myself in the blanket and turning on the television where the game is just about to start. I check my phone, seeing it's just past six, before reading the text message he's sent me.

Didn't want to wake you, babe, but thanks for cleaning the apartment. I love you. I'll see you after the game.

I put my phone down, focusing my attention to the television where they've began to sing the national anthems. They pan over Pat's face and my heart seems to swell with affection as he sways back and force, staring up into the stands with those blue eyes.

I watch the entirety of the game in a sort of trance, unmoving except for my eyes which follow the players' every move. Quickly, about half way through the first, Patrick scores with a smooth shot that slips past Detroit's goaltender. I can't help but grin and clap right along with Chicago as he jumps onto the glass before getting encircled by his teammates. He's damn good at hockey and when he scores a second goal, adding a quick assist late in the third, I have nothing but feelings of pride for him.

He's home by midnight and when he walks in, tired but grinning after the win, I just let him take me in his arms in a long, silent hug.

"I'm so proud of you."

He laughs, walking us over to the living room once more where I unbutton his suit jacket and set it over the couch, "I scored that for you, by the way."

"Did you really?" I say with a smile, kissing those lips as he pulls off his bottoms, tossing them to the floor. I undo his dress shirt as he tells me about the evening between gentle kisses and a smooth hand moving over my neck and shoulders.

"But about earlier," he says, suddenly changing the tone of the conversation as he lays down beside me on the couch, "I'm sorry about what I did and I just want you to know that I'm not like that anymore and I'm going to do everything I can to prove that to you. Okay?"
I just nod, touching his lips and staring into his eyes.

"Stay with me, Carly."

I nod again, slipping his falling curls behind his ear and whispering, "I'm not going anywhere."

And that's the truth.