. : Epilogue : .

June 26, 2010

Jenna stood at the window. She looked out at the trees and the flying birds, feeling the warm gust of wind as it blew back the curtains on either side of her. The weather for the day was perfect, better than she ever could have imagined on this day. The sky was blue and the sun was shining; it was perfect wedding weather.

Linda, her mother stepped behind her and placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “What are you thinking about?”

“Today’s supposed to be the happiest day of my life. But it isn’t.”

“What do you mean, honey? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. That’s just it. Everything’s great,” Jenna replied, smoothing the skirt of her white dress and smiling at her. “I’m happy Patrick and I are getting married. So happy, but this isn’t the best day of my life. If it were, then everything would be going downhill past today. But I know things are only going to get better, you know?”

“That’s a lovely sentiment.”

“It’s not just a sentiment. I truly believe it.”

“Marriage isn’t always easy,” Linda advised. “It’s a lot of hard work. Lord knows that your father and I haven’t always gotten along. But every good moment is worth every fight. Don’t forget that, and you and Patrick will have nothing to worry about.”

Jenna turned her head and smiled at her mother, tears brimming in her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem, honey. Don’t cry, you’ll smudge your make-up,” she replied, reaching for a tissue in her pocket—which she always seemed to have on hand—and dabbed at her daughter’s face. “You want to look nice for the pictures, don’t you?”

Jenna nodded, trying to suppress her happy tears. Her mother didn’t know that she and Patrick had already been through the worst of the worst. But they had gotten through it, and now there was nothing—absolutely, positively nothing—that was going to tear them apart. After all, if they could find a way to deal with Jenna’s infidelity and move on, then they could deal with any curve ball.

Of course, it hadn’t been easy. Jenna had cried when Patrick had symbolically re-proposed, but there had been a lot of tears that had followed afterward, too. They couldn’t just erase their memories and pretend that it never happened; they had to accept that they had each made mistakes in their relationship, and then they had to learn from them in a healthy manner and move forward. It had been difficult, and there were several times when they each had wondered if they could put the past behind them. Jenna had even suggested that they postpone the wedding until Patrick could fully trust her again, and at first he had agreed. Until he realized that he still wanted to marry her (which is why he had given her the ring again), so waiting one more year wouldn’t matter. He’d made the commitment, and he was going to stick with that decision.

Jenna and Patrick had decided to keep her affair a secret, and Jon had concurred. It didn’t hurt that Patrick had put a target on his back and had taken him out at practice every chance he got. Jon took the abuse, convinced that he deserved it, but it seemed like the two teammates had somehow gotten past it. They certainly weren’t the best of friends, but then again they weren’t before, either. They’d learned to reconnect on the ice and in the locker room. Patrick had accepted that even those in leadership positions were liable to have lapses in judgment and make mistakes, and the fact that Jon felt such immense guilt helped Patrick forgive him.

The first few weeks after their devastating blow-out were the hardest on Patrick. He had remembered every day what she had done, and he second-guessed his decision more than once. It wasn’t until Christmas, when he went the whole day without thinking about her affair, that he realized it was eventually going to get easier. That he wouldn’t always think about it every day, and that the hurt wouldn’t always be so strong.

Jenna did her best to uphold her promise. She and Patrick didn’t always agree, especially once the wedding planning had gone underway again, but she had been respectful of his opinions and had been patient with him as he worked through it all. And Patrick, likewise, had done his best to be understanding of Jenna’s stances and feelings throughout the course of the planning. They’d gone through hell together, and they had walked through the fire and come out a stronger, better couple for it.

After her mother had finished wiping away Jenna’s tears, with minimal ruining of her make-up, she pressed the tissue to her own face. It was an emotional time for her, to see her baby getting married to the man she had loved for so long. As a mother, she had wanted only the best for her only child, but she knew very well that not everyone got their well-deserved happily ever after. But Jenna was getting hers, and that’s all a mother could ever hope for.

A knock came at the door, disrupting their mother-daughter moment. Jenna invited that person in, and Adam entered. He was fulfilling his duty as best man by delivering the bride’s gift. Her mother headed to the restroom while Adam presented her with a large, velvet box.

“Okay, Jenna, before I give this to you,” Adam said his trademarked lop-sided smile, “I have to say it just once more. Are you sure you want to marry Sharpie without knowing what you’re missing out on? Because I could show you, right here, right now, what a real man can do—”

“No fucking way,” Jenna replied with a laugh. Adam was taken aback by her language and by how well she took his proposition. Usually, she would respond with venom, but she was good humored about it now. Jenna knew that she would never need to know another man’s touch to convince her that she already had a real man, overlooking the minuscule fact that she had in fact needed someone else to show her that. “And I’m sure you’ve already tried to tell Patrick that he should back out of this wedding, too, but it’s happening, Adam, whether you like it or not.”

Adam smiled at her again, knowing that neither of them ever took him seriously. He didn’t even take himself seriously, but as long as everyone was happy, that’s all he cared about.



She opened the velvet box and found a strand of flawless pearls. Jenna knew from the box that it was going to be jewelry, but the necklace took her breath away regardless. Skimming her fingers across the shiny beads, she smiled. “They’re so beautiful.”

“I think Sharpie just wanted to be able to say he gave you a ‘pearl necklace.’” He laughed at his dirty joke and sexual innuendo. “Get it?”

Jenna giggled and smiled with Adam, not letting anything bring her down from her high. As far as she was concerned, he could make any pathetic joke he wanted, because it wouldn’t affect the outcome of the day. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Wow, you must really be in a good mood if you’re laughing at my jokes.”

“Of course I’m in a good mood. I’m getting married today.”

“By the way, he’s outside. He wants to talk to you, but he wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it, because of the whole not-supposed-to-see-the-bride-before-the-wedding thing.”

“It’s okay with me,” Jenna replied. “I don’t care about the superstitions.”

Adam nodded and headed for the door, opening it and waving at Patrick to enter. Patrick walked in, looking dapper and handsome in his tux. Jenna smiled at him, and he smiled back; they shared a moment as they locked eyes and let the background fade away. Neither one of them noticed as Adam snuck out of the room, leaving them alone.

“Jenna, you look... so beautiful,” Patrick said with a low voice. He meant it with sincerity; but her angelic appearance stunned him like he had taken a hit that had knocked the wind out of him. She was in her white satin dress, her dark blonde hair pulled up loosely with a few dangling curls around her face. Now he knew why grooms were supposed to wait until the ceremony before seeing their brides, but Patrick also knew that no matter how often he looked at her, she would always evoke that response in him.

“And you, Patrick, look so very handsome,” she replied. The color of his vest brought out the fierce green of his eyes. Seeing him dressed in his tux made Jenna anxious to get the ceremony over with, wanting so badly to bind herself with him through marriage. “No cold feet, I hope?”

“Never.” He smirked at her, knowing that he could never back out now. Not only had they been through so much, but they had gotten through so much. They were always meant to be together. “May I?” he asked, gesturing toward the box in her hand. She nodded at him, and Patrick took the necklace in his hands. Jenna turned and lowered herself, allowing Patrick to easily place the strand around her neck and clasp it at her nape. Then he kissed the back of her neck, sending chills down her spine. “I can’t wait to be married to you.”

“Me either,” she replied, turning around and throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you for this.” The simple strand suited her: a classic piece of jewelry that was a staple in every woman’s collection. It was a symbol of just how far they’d come in their relationship, that Patrick would get her something that suited her personality better than her engagement ring did. But just as Patrick complemented Jenna, the ring complemented her finger.

“You’re welcome.”

“I got you something, too,” Jenna added slyly.

“Really? What?” He placed his hands around her waist, the smooth fabric of her dress allowing his hands to slide to the small of her back and pull her toward him.

“I’ll have to show you later.” She stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, “I’m wearing it under my dress.”

Patrick groaned in anticipation. “What do you say we lock this door, and you can show me right now? Hmm?” He placed his lips over hers before she could answer. His right hand moved to her face, and his thumb stroked her cheekbone.

“Patrick Sharp! Get out of here!” Linda hollered as she reentered the room. “You’ll smudge her make-up! Stop it!”

Jenna giggled as Patrick pulled away, holding up his arms to protect himself as Linda playfully waved her clutch in his direction and shooed him away from her daughter. “Okay, Mrs. Roberts! I’m going, I’m going!”

“Oh, Patrick. You might as well start calling me ‘Mom.’ But if you don’t get out of here now, you’ll be limping down that aisle,” she teased, pushing him out the door and closing it behind him.

“I love you, Jenna!” he called through the door.

“I love you, Patrick!” she yelled back, still chuckling at the antics of her mother and future husband.

“Your lipstick is all over the place,” Linda observed, pulling out another handy tissue and wiping at Jenna’s face. She let her mother perform the task before she reapplied her lipstick. After a few more minutes, Jenna’s father knocked on the door and escorted her down the aisle to an awaiting Patrick.

The whole ceremony felt surreal to the two of them. They’d already made the commitment to get through the worst; everything after this was going to be easy. Jenna and Patrick recited their vows and exchanged shiny bands of gold. She could hardly contain her tears as the officiator pronounced them husband and wife, and Patrick wiped them all away with the pads of his thumbs as he took her face in his hands and kissed her once again. No one was complaining this time that he smudged her lipstick.



Jon expected it to be more difficult to watch Jenna and Patrick get married. He sat in the pew with the rest of his single teammates; there were few of them, but they banded together to sit through the ceremony. It wasn’t so bad, though. Even though he hadn’t found anyone for himself yet, the feelings he had harbored toward Jenna had faded enough that he could watch her get married without an ache in his chest.

He planned on sticking around at the reception for just long enough to offer his heartfelt congratulations, and then he was going to leave. The two of them had been nice enough to not revoke his invitation—although it would have looked mighty suspicious if he had been the only Blackhawk to not be invited—but he didn’t want to be there if he would serve as a reminder to what had happened last autumn.

After the dinner, the toasts had begun. Jenna and Patrick drank from the Stanley Cup after each of the speeches. The Hawks had won the Cup just two weeks prior, and somehow Patrick had managed to get the Cup at his reception. Her mother had given her a plastic poncho to wear, so Patrick wouldn’t spill any champagne on her wedding dress as he lifted the giant silver Cup for her to sip from. They looked so happy, and it was impossible to not feel happy for them.

And, after all, Jon wasn’t doing so bad for himself. The team had made it to the finals, and they had taken the series in six games. The only thing that would have made it better would have been to win it on home ice, in the United Center. His family had been there to celebrate and partake in the celebration with him. What else could a twenty-two-year-old hockey captain ever hope for?

Jon and Jenna hadn’t done anything together, alone, since she had left his apartment to return home. He was sure it had been a conscious decision made by both guilty parties, even though neither of them had verbalized it. They still saw each other at team functions, but they didn’t make plans to go anywhere or do anything beyond that. There was no ill will; things were just easier that way.

He stepped up to the bar and snatched another flute of champagne. Now that he had won the Cup, he could let loose a little bit and enjoy the simple things before beginning his training routine for the next season. Things had come full circle for him—in fact, he could still remember the conversation he’d had with Jenna at her engagement party before the preseason almost one year ago.

“It’s Jonny, right?” He looked behind him for the source of the voice. It had taken him off guard; no one had called him Jonny since Jenna. “Or do you prefer Jonathan?”

He shrugged. “Either’s fine. You’re, uh, um.... Oh, shoot. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Katie,” she replied, standing next to him at the bar and taking a flute also. “We met very briefly at—”

“The Art Institute,” Jon said, finishing her sentence for you. “You’re Jenna’s friend. From grad school.”

“That’s right!” Katie smiled.

“I remember now. I’m usually a lot better with names. I had a concussion, though.”

“Oh, well then, I think I can forgive you for that. Just as long as you don’t forget it again,” she flirted.

“I won’t, Katie,” he replied, surprised at himself for flirting back.

She tried to hide her smile behind her glass of champagne. She’d asked Jenna about her friend a couple times since the three of them had met back in October, but Jenna hadn’t picked up on any of her hints or clues. Katie was glad for the second chance to make a good impression on him, but she blanked on any witty comments to say. Being around hot men usually did that to her. “It was a very nice ceremony,” she said, and then she kicked herself for making such lame small talk.

“It was. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people who belonged together better than them.” They watched as the dance floor cleared and Jenna and Patrick danced to their song.

“How romantic,” she sighed, addressing both their dance and Jon’s expressed sentiment. Between the ambiance of the reception and the sensitive man in her company, Katie could practically feel herself melt.

Jon and Katie stood in silence for a moment as they leaned against the bar and sipped their drinks, watching the bride and groom sway rhythmically in time with the music. One song ended and another began; now that their song was over, more couples began to migrate to the floor.

“Katie,” Jon began, nervously trying to find the right words. It was a simple question, but it was still hard for him to find the proper voice. “Would you like to dance? With me?”

Trying to downplay her excitement, she casually replied, “Sure.” Her pulse quickened as he held out his hand to her. She placed her palm over his, and he led them to the floor. Katie placed her left hand on his shoulder, her right still in his hand; Jon tightened his grip and placed his free hand on her waist. They stood close together, although not too close. Their bodies subtly grazed as they danced.

As they moved in place, Jon caught the eye of Jenna across the floor. She smiled over Patrick’s shoulder, and Jon nodded in acknowledgment. Jenna looked back and forth between Jon and Katie before raising her eyebrows and expressing her approval—at which Jon blushed. Jenna placed her cheek against Patrick’s shoulder, tightened her hold around his shoulders, and nestled in against him.

Jon looked down at Katie, giving her a crooked but hopeful smile. Katie returned it, marking the beginning of a billion possibilities.

. : 21 : .

Jenna was folding her dirty clothes and tossing them into an empty plastic shopping bag when Jon came back to his apartment after practice. He had been a little worried that she hadn’t responded to his message, but he never did try calling her again. Leaving her a voicemail was the most he could if she wasn’t answering anyway.

“Hey. What are you doing?” he asked her, when she didn’t even notice that he had come back.

“Getting my stuff together. I’m going home,” she replied.

“To Vermont?”

“No. Um, Patrick stopped by,” Jenna explained, looking at Jon for the first time since his return. She wasn’t angry at him, but she wasn’t happy either. “I can’t believe you just told him. Jon, I’ve never seen him so angry.”

It shouldn’t have bothered him that she didn’t call him by her nickname for him, but it sounded so strange coming from her mouth. Jenna never called him Jon—it was always Jonny. “He was so mad, and he was taking it out on the other guys, and it just seemed like the right thing to do. I tried calling.”

“Oh yeah. I got your message. After he stopped by.” Jenna sighed.

He paused. Jon was hesitant because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear this, but he had to know. “So, what did he say?”

She shrugged, her shoulders almost aching from performing the action so many times. It was a sign of her frustration and complacency and resignation. “He still wants some time to think. And I guess he’ll let me know when he figures it out.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry that this is happening, Jenna,” Jon said, wanting to apologize. This wasn’t what he had expected, or wanted, to happen.

“No, it doesn’t. This is better than what I thought was going to happen. Maybe there’s hope. Maybe Patrick just needs some space and time to miss me.” She gave Jon a weak smile. “At least I know he’s giving me a chance. No matter what he decides, at least he’s thinking about it. And I have to find solace in that.”

Jon nodded and agreed. “That’s very wise.”

“It’s all I have to hold onto.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” he offered. It was one last kind gesture to the woman he had thought he loved, to take her back to the place she called home. Jon was sad to see her go, but he couldn't keep her. Jenna didn't want him, regardless of whether Patrick wanted to take her back or not. Love couldn't be a one-sided affair, and Jon didn't want to pine away for someone who didn't reciprocate. He'd kissed Jenna because he wanted her to be happy, and he thought he could be the one to make her feel that way; poor Jon couldn't have been more wrong. Instead of making her happy, he'd made her miserable.

It wasn't going to be easy to let her go, but he had to. He had to—for Jenna's sake and for Patrick's sake. But most of all, for his own sake. Jon wondered how hard it would be, because he had really fallen in love with the idea of having a girl, like Jenna, the same way that Patrick had Jenna. A grim smile fell across his lips as he realized that maybe he had fallen in love with the idea of her more than he had fallen for Jenna herself. Either way, Jon knew that he needed someone who complemented him the way Jenna and Patrick complemented each other. He needed someone else.He needed someone that would get his mind off the rink when he wasn't there. He needed someone who would make him smile, even after the losses. He needed someone who would love him back, just as much as he loved her.

Jon sighed and waited for Jenna's answer. No, it wasn't going to be any easy task, to move on, but Jon knew how to work hard and achieve the goals he set for himself. He figured this would be no different; he could do it.

Jenna shook her head. “No, it's okay.” She looked up at his face and into his eyes. It was funny now, that she had ever been afraid to look at him for fear that a connection would be formed. There was a connection between them, but it was one forged by two people who had embarked on a crazy journey of emotional torment. Like they were two criminals who had been caught and arrested, and they'd forever have their escapade to remember and associate with their memories of each other. “I called a cab.”

He didn't argue with her or insist, even though it didn't make sense for her to pay someone when he'd do it for free as a favor to her. But then again, Jon figured that she probably didn't want to be near him right now. After all, that was why she was leaving his apartment. Jenna had relied on Jon too much during this entire ordeal when she should have been relying on Patrick, and that's what had set the ball rolling.

With an awkward nod of their heads, Jenna grabbed the plastic bag containing her clothes and started for the door, but Jon said something and stopped her. “Let me know what happens?”

“Sure,” she replied. “But I bet you'll hear about it, either way.”

“I know, but....” He paused. “I know that we probably can't be friends after this. For obvious reasons. But I just want to know that you're going to be happy.”

“We're always going to be friends, somehow, in some way,” she replied. “I owe a lot to you. When it happened, I was so upset and confused. I wasn't sure what I wanted. And now, I do. It wasn't worth it, but I can't change it. However, I gained a lot of perspective. I can only hope Patrick sees how truly sorry I am.”

“He just needs to calm down. He'll come around, Jenna.”

“I hope so. I really, really hope so.”



Patrick wouldn't have had to tell Jenna that he wasn't staying in their house. She could feel it as soon as the cab dropped her off, that he wasn't there and hadn't been for a while. The house felt empty, and not at all like the home Jenna had remembered. Patrick was like a light that irradiated throughout the entire building when he was home. His absence was not only felt in the building, but in Jenna’s core. She missed him terribly. She missed being near him. She missed his energy and his humor and his laugh and his presence. Jenna missed everything about Patrick.

The ring never left her right hand. With Patrick gone, and her only recent memories of him weighing on her conscience, that giant pink diamond was the only positive connection she felt with him. He hadn’t taken it back, even if they weren’t ready to move forward yet. She wanted that ring to be on her left hand or gone, but she also was afraid of his final answer, if that final answer were to be no.

It had been two more days, and now it was Wednesday. She still hadn’t heard from Patrick, and she was worried. The longer it took Patrick to come to a conclusion, the more Jenna thought that he was going to throw in the towel. If he really wanted her, if he needed her, it wouldn’t take him this long to realize it.

On that afternoon, she had finally gotten sick of sitting around, doing nothing, and eating greasy potato chips. Eating all that junk food made her feel greasy and disgusting, so she decided to wash up and go do something, anything. Maybe go to the Art Institute. If she was going to have to leave Chicago, she might as well go see American Gothic and Nighthawks one more time, while she still had the opportunity to do so.

As she had done in the previous few days, she left her ring on as she showered. Until she absolutely had to, she wasn’t going to take it off. Jenna worked the shampoo into her hair before suddenly feeling a sudden cool blast of air that shocked her. She turned to see the curtain pulled back and Patrick standing there.

At first, she said nothing, only making a lame attempt to cover her breasts. It was a foolish move, because Patrick had seen them plenty of times before, but it felt different. Until he made known what he wanted, she wasn’t going to give him a free show. “What are you doing here?” she eked out finally. She hoped this meant that he had made up his mind, but she wasn't sure because she couldn't read his expression.

Patrick’s eyes raked over her form. It wasn’t done in a crude way; he was looking for any tainted markings on her. As Patrick had contemplated what to do about Jenna over and over during the past several days, he came to several big conclusions. First, he knew he still loved Jenna. So much that it hurt. So much that it was why he hurt so much. He loved her spirit and her personality and her, but, in accordance with his second conclusion, he was worried if he could ever be physically intimate with her again, knowing that she had had sex with another man. Knowing that she had sex with Jon. Patrick felt that if it had been one of those stupid art guys, coming to a decision would have been easier. He wouldn't have been able to place a face to the nameless man, and he would have been able to forgive her.

He thought he’d be able to tell that she was defiled or tarnished. Like there would be fingerprints on her skin in all the places Jon had touched her. That image had haunted him: Jenna’s body, branded by another man’s caresses, and he had to see for himself. As irrational as it sounded, Patrick was surprised to find that she looked exactly the same as she always had.

With nimble fingers and quick hands, he shed his clothes and dropped them unceremoniously on the floor, stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind him. Jenna stared at him wordlessly, wondering what the hell he was doing, but she didn’t put up a protest as Patrick grabbed the soap and lathered up his hands. Those hands proceeded to roam all over her body, scrubbing from the bottoms of her feet to the tips of her fingers as well as everywhere in between.

It was a cleansing ritual; Patrick was removing any traces that Jon may have left behind. He was washing her clean so they could start all over. So her skin would be fresh and new and only remember his touch, and no one else’s.

She let him take control and perform that act, knowing vaguely in her head that that’s what he was doing but not caring enough to tell him how silly it was. He was here with her, and she would let him do anything to her if it meant he'd stay with her. Besides, she liked the feel of his hands as they worked up her arms and to her shoulders, down her back, and across to her front. It felt like foreplay. Jenna had missed his touches and the way he could make her feel, and the gentle, steady, circular motions of his hands started to drive her crazy. She wanted Patrick, and she wanted him badly; however, she was afraid to push her luck. It didn't mean they were ready for that step yet.

Patrick knew exactly the effect he was having on her. He saw Jenna bite her lip and close her eyes, and his hands felt her erect nipples as he washed her breasts. It was a mild form of torture, and he took some pleasure out of working her into an aroused state and not taking it any further than that. He grabbed her waist and held her body against his as he leaned her back under the spray, allowing the suds to rinse down the drain.

He admired the way she looked, and Jenna knew that he liked it because she could feel the proof against her stomach. Patrick leaned down and kissed the spot above her clavicle before kissing her neck. Then he pulled her towards him and placed his lips over hers. It was soft at first, until she couldn’t take it anymore. Jenna nibbled on his bottom lip and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their kiss deepened and their tongues swirled together as Patrick grabbed her ass and lifted, making Jenna hook her legs around his waist as he stepped out of the shower and carried her into the bedroom.



Patrick eased Jenna onto the bed. They were both soaking wet from the shower, but neither seemed to mind. He looked down at her as Jenna looked back up at him through hooded eyes. She was delirious with want, and Patrick hadn’t seen that look of lust from her in a while.

The only thing Patrick could think about was if this was how Jenna had looked at.... He couldn’t even think his name. It made Patrick’s blood boil, and he took it out on Jenna by making sure that she would never, ever remember one minute she spent with Jon.

His hands slid easily across her skin, disrupting the beads of water that had formed on her stomach. Jenna writhed, trying to stretch her body so his hands would touch more sensitive places, but Patrick didn’t allow her to speed this up. He was going to make her moan and scream and forget everything else besides himself.

Leaning over her, Patrick kissed Jenna hard enough to make her lips bruise and swirled his tongue around hers. He flicked his tongue inside her mouth, mimicking everything he was going to do to her body when the time was right. Jenna laced her fingers against the back of Patrick’s head and kept his lips against hers. It had been a long time since they’d made out like this.

He dragged his lips across her cheek to her ear, and he nibbled on her lobe. Patrick thought about saying something, but he wasn’t sure what; he kept quiet and put his mouth to better use as he sucked on the thin flesh of her neck. His hands cupped her breasts, and his palms rubbed against her pert nipples; they were so hard that it almost hurt. Almost. It was the perfect blend of pleasure and pain, and she arched her back and begged him to continue. “Oh, yes. Patrick, please don’t stop.”

The sound of desperation in her voice made Patrick’s erection harden even more, but he made himself slow down. He trailed kisses down her chest and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, biting down softly and sweeping his tongue over it. Jenna, who still had her hands on the back of his head, felt her body tense. As her muscles tightened, her hands balled into fists and she gripped his hair and pulled.

Taking that as a sign that Jenna liked what he was doing, his now idle hand pressed between her legs. She squirmed and adjusted the positioning of her body, trying to rub herself against his fingers. He spread her folds apart and felt how wet she was—and that was not a side effect from the shower.

Patrick dipped one finger inside of her, using her wetness to accelerate his strokes as his fingers slid across her clit as he simultaneously kissed across her chest to her other breast. Jenna shuddered and let go of Patrick, unable to hold on anymore. She tossed and turned, wishing that she could feel that way forever and also impatiently waiting to lose herself in her orgasm. Completely unable to form coherent words, Jenna choked out a few moans and sighs.

Repositioning himself on the bed, Patrick inserted two fingers inside of her while he flicked his tongue between her folds and found that hard little nub with his mouth. He could feel how close she was, so he curled his fingers to hit that spot as he pumped them into her and began to spell out his name with his tongue.

He didn’t even get to the R before she let out a loud scream and flew over the edge, her legs shaking on either side of his body and her back arching completely off the bed.

As she began to regain her sense of awareness, Patrick grabbed her hips and pulled her limp body towards him, impaling her quickly with his aching dick. He groaned and savored the feeling, forgetting completely about why he was doing this and just wanting to make love to her for the sake of making love. To be with her, because he had missed this.

Jenna bucked her hips, spurring Patrick into motion, too. They moved together, in sync with one another, working toward the common goal of finding that release. Jenna felt her body begin to tense again, and she grabbed onto the sheets for dear life as she climaxed again. As her body clenched around him, Patrick grunted and followed suit, coming inside her.

They panted and rolled over onto their sides, so they were still facing each other. Jenna looked at Patrick, noticing that his eyes looked green. She smiled at him and reached out to touch the side of his face, as if making sure that he was actually here and that actually just happened, instead of being a dream. Patrick grabbed her hand and glanced at it, his thumb rubbing over the diamond ring. Jenna tensed again, but this time it wasn’t in a good way. She was nervous. Now what?

He removed the ring from her hand and focused his eyes on it, turning it over in his fingers and thinking about how silly it was how society placed so much importance on one simple piece of jewelry. Not that this particular ring was simple. It sparkled too much for that. Exhaling deeply, he looked back at Jenna’s face.

She was worried. He wasn’t making a move or saying anything, and she didn’t know what this meant for her, for him, for them. So she made a promise, “If you let me, Patrick, I will spend every moment of the rest of my life making sure you know how much I love you.”

Patrick examined her face and saw only sincerity. It made his heart palpitate and stop beating at the same time. He believed that she would live up to that promise, if only he gave her the chance. He thought about it for only a second more before he took her left hand in his and put the ring back where it belonged.

. : 20 : .

After Patrick had stormed out of the dressing room, the players in attendance all turned to Jon to take their cues from him. They hadn’t heard exactly what was said; they only knew that whatever words that had been exchanged had been yelled. Unfortunately for them (but very fortunate for both Jon and Patrick), the thick walls of the trainer’s room had dampened the shouts so their words were indiscernible.

Jon emerged from the room only after Patrick had dressed and left. His chest was tight, and he was feeling lightheaded. The conversation that he had just taken part in had been bad enough; having to admit to his share of Patrick’s misery sucked. However, having to face his team, after he had just ripped that very team apart with his actions and admission of guilt, was worse. Terribly worse. Their eyes were all on him, silently asking Holy fuck—what the hell just happened?!

With no way to explain to them what had transpired, without dividing the room any further, he simply shook his head and went back to his stall. “Let’s get ready to practice, boys.”

“We’re still having practice?” Duncan asked, noticing how everyone was on edge. After watching Patrick go after one of his own teammates, no one was feeling a deep sense of camaraderie or fraternity.

“Of course we’re still having practice,” Jon returned, pulling his practice jersey over his head. “Let’s get out there. Coach Q is waiting.”

Once everyone stepped out on the ice and he had some privacy, Jon dug out his cell phone and dialed Jenna’s cell. He hadn’t had any intention to tell Patrick. Jon knew that Jenna wanted to keep him out of it, and he wanted anything that Jenna wanted. But he also hadn’t expected Patrick to show up at practice either. Or for Patrick to then misinterpret something Brent said and jump him, forcing Jon to pry Patrick off the defenseman. None of that was supposed to happen.

But happen, it did. And now he had to try and fix it. Jon had to tell Jenna that he had told Patrick the whole truth. She had to know that, because Jon knew what the lack of full disclosure could cause. It was keeping a secret that got him into this position in the first place. If he could have admitted his feelings for Jenna, told her flat out and let her be the one to make the decision whether she should leave Patrick or stay with him, then he wouldn’t have bottled it up. Then it wouldn’t have exploded like a shaken-up bottle of Pepsi and gotten them into this sticky situation.

The phone rang seven times before it went to voicemail. Instead of leaving a message, Jon hung up and called again, only to hear the same thing: seven rings, and then her cheerful voice, recorded at an earlier and happier time, asking him to leave a message at the tone. Maybe she was sleeping. Jon knew she hadn’t slept well since she initially passed out from crying herself into exhaustion. He looked at his phone and wondered what he should do: should he leave a message and hope that she got it before talking to Patrick, or should he leave practice and go back to his apartment to tell her?

Jon thought about Patrick’s reaction. Jon had never seen him so angry before. Not just angry, but seething. He’d done a good job of reining it in, but he was clearly beyond upset. Who could blame him? Jon understood that he had every reason to hate him right now. He’d had sex with the woman he’d seen himself marrying and starting a family with. That was unforgiveable. And in some cultures, Jon was sure, punishable by death.

But what was Patrick going to do? Was he upset enough to find Jenna and confront her, or was he mad enough to avoid her altogether until he cooled off, if ever? He didn’t have a sufficient amount of knowledge to make an educated guess about Patrick’s next move, because he’d never seen the normally easy-going forward so distressed.

Quickly, he glanced toward the runway and the awaiting fresh ice, as well as the group of players that had gathered for the optional skate. They had all looked to him for guidance, and he had told them to practice. And once again, Jon found himself at a crossroads. He could either put the team first, which he was used to doing on a regular basis—that is, until about two weeks ago—or he could forget about his professional responsibilities and follow his heart and go tell Jenna.

Jon came to several conclusions. First, Jenna didn’t choose him. He felt a little jaded; if she didn’t want to be a part of his life, then he shouldn’t feel the need to want to protect her from Patrick’s wrath. He still wanted to, no doubt, but he knew he needed to take a step back and let go of her. The timing was bad for that realization, but he couldn’t keep stringing himself along or coddling her, because her mind was made up and it wasn’t going to change with a simple good gesture. And second, he had neglected his captain’s duties and needed to concentrate his efforts on the team—his team—again. He needed to stand tall and be the leader he was supposed to be. It wasn’t a way for him to atone for the grievous misstep he’d made two weeks prior, but it was finally a step in the right direction. Jon needed to get his head straight and get his priorities back in order.

So he left the message. “Jenna? Uh, it’s Jon. Listen, I kind of, um, told... Sharpie, I mean Patrick... about us. I mean, that it was me. He showed up at practice, and well, long story short, he knows. And I just wanted you to know. I’ll see you in a few hours, after practice.”

Setting his phone on silent mode, Jon placed it on the back ledge of the bench at his stall. Then he grabbed his helmet, his gloves, and his stick and headed out on the ice for practice.



Jenna hadn’t showered, eaten, or slept since Saturday’s fiasco. She wore her misery and guilt on her face in the form of a sad, drawn mouth and dark circles and bags under her eyes. In the matter of just a few days, she had managed to alienate herself from her fiancé and one of her greatest friends. Jenna had spent a lot of time in Jon’s bedroom, lying and wallowing in her misery. There had been many times that she had thought about calling Patrick and begging for forgiveness. Or just to hear his voice. But she was terrified, absolutely terrified of what he might say to her. Like he never wanted to hear from her or see her again. Like he hated her, And that was something Jenna couldn’t stomach hearing.

With Jon gone for a few hours, Jenna finally made herself move from the fetal position she had been stuck in. Then she washed the bed sheets. After she’d spent the past forty-eight hours in them, she figured it was the least she could do. Besides, she wasn’t going to spend another night between them. Jenna wasn’t sure where she was going to do or what she was going to do, but neither of those options including staying in Jon’s apartment.

Jenna was most grateful for Jon’s hospitality. After all, she had called him crying because Patrick had left her, and he had opened his door to her. He had politely insisted that she take his bed while he spent the past two nights on the couch. Jon could have just told her “no” and refused to come to her rescue, but like a prince charming or a white knight, he came running at her beck and call. He wanted to help, and she was abusing that; the cycle of hurt had to end, and Jenna was going to put an end to it.

It would have been so much easier if she could have accepted Jon’s offer of love and affection and let him whisk her off her feet, like she was certain he was capable of doing, but easier didn’t mean it was possible. Even knowing that Patrick probably wanted absolutely nothing to do with her wasn’t enough to let her contemplate traveling down that avenue. After all, he hadn’t called. Not to make her apologize or to vent his anger. Nothing. Just silence.

She peeled off her smelly, wrinkled clothes as she tested the hot water. As she turned around, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Disgusting with herself, she threw a towel over her reflection, unable to look at the sight. Next she moved to take off her engagement ring. Jenna never showered while wearing jewelry, and the ring was probably meaningless now, but it was her last bit of hope. Keeping it on her finger, she ducked under the showerhead. It felt good to wash her body clean, seeing as though she couldn’t wipe away her bad conscience.

Jenna was debating on calling home for a bus ticket or plane fare to go back to Vermont. Jenna had nothing of her own out here in Chicago; it was all Patrick’s. His home. His car that he bought for her to drive, which was in her name, but was still purchased with his money. He paid her cell phone bill, and the cash and cards she had in her wallet were all supplied by him. She couldn’t spend any of that, but calling home and asking her parents for a ticket or money for a ticket would be like admitting defeat.

She still had hope. It was ridiculous for her to think that their relationship still had a chance, because he hadn’t called or made any attempt to contact her. As far as Jenna knew, he was still fuming with anger. And she couldn’t blame him one bit. She had always trusted him when he was out on the road to stay true to her. She’d never worried even when he was in his early twenties and out in Philadelphia while she was still working toward her undergraduate degree. Never in a million years had she ever considered the silly notion that either one of them would cheat. But yet... it had happened. And no matter the circumstances, she wasn’t going to point fingers or lay the blame anywhere else but with herself.

Jenna thought that she was being silly by holding out the slightest bit of optimism, since Patrick was only to squash it in the end. But at that moment, she needed it to keep going. She didn’t know how to live, how to exist, without him. Maybe that was a testament to the fact that they had hardly spent more than two weeks apart from each other ever since they moved in together and she was used to being around him almost constantly. Or maybe it was because she truly needed him. That they had been together so long that they had molded and melded together into one single entity.

And it wasn’t like Patrick had given her any remote indication that he was willing to forgive her or to try to get past it. There was no reason for Jenna to think they could have a future together. She hadn’t received word from him. He hadn’t even said that he needed time to think or anything—he had just left on Saturday. In fact, she thought he was probably sitting at home, not even caring about where she was.

When Jenna stepped out of the shower, she realized she had no clothes to change into. She had nothing at Jon’s, except the dirty clothes she had spend the past two days in, and she wasn’t going to put them back on. Taking one last advantage of Jon’s generosity, she slipped into a pair of his sweats, cinching them at the waist, and then pulled a shirt over her head. As she rubbed her hair with a towel, a pounding sound echoed through Jon’s moderately-sized apartment in sync with a staccato beeping of a message alert on her phone. Jenna ignored her phone and padded to the door to deal with the more pressing situation. She stood on her toes to look through the peephole, but she didn’t need to peer through to know who was on the other side.

“I know you’re in there. Let me in, Jenna, because we need to talk.”

“Patrick,” she whispered, feeling both glad to see him again but also a little worried. He sounded so angry.



“Open the door,” Patrick commanded, his voice raw from yelling. He pounded his closed fist against the barrier one more time, demanding entrance. He wasn’t going anywhere until he faced her.

Jenna’s heart began to race as her fingers fumbled with the lock. This was it; this was the very situation she had been looking forward to and also avoiding. This was her chance to hear Patrick’s verdict, to know her future. And it frightened her, because she was worried he’d kick her ass back to Vermont—which was the exact opposite of what she really wanted. Part of her wanted to let him in, and another part of her wanted to keep the door locked. But her hands slid back the deadbolt and turned the knob.

He pushed the door open, not waiting for Jenna’s slow timidity, and he pushed past her into the living room of Jon’s apartment. She closed the door behind him, and then she waited.

Patrick continued his anxious behavior: he paced the floor and ran his hand through his hair, not making eye contact with Jenna. He opened his mouth several times, but no words came out. There was so much that he wanted to say, but he was at a loss for words. Finally, he said the two words that had been swarming around in his head—the two words that Jenna had never expected to hear. “Jonathan Toews.”

She tensed. How did Patrick know? Well, the answer as right in front of her face—only two people had known, and if she hadn’t told Patrick, then Jon must have. Even though she knew that had to be the answer, she was still shocked and surprised, because she had never expected Jon to tell him. In fact, she had told Jon to forget all about it and that she didn't want to bring him into this.

But now Jon was involved and right then and there, Jenna felt her reserve of hope evaporate into thin air.

“Jonathan Toews,” he repeated, the name leaving his lips as if it were venom. There was a bad taste in his mouth. “Toews?”

Jenna wanted to cry; her body physically wanted to sob at the amount of pain she was feeling—not her own pain, but the pain she felt from seeing Patrick so torn up inside. She nodded, unable to respond verbally. There was no way to sugarcoat it. An affair was bad enough, but an affair with her Jonny—the man that Patrick had always trusted Jenna with—was a thousand times worse.

Patrick couldn't find a voice to lend the anguish in his heart. Because it was the man that Patrick had relied on to keep Jenna company when he was out with the guys. He liked knowing that they had each other while he and the boys were out celebrating the wins, because it took some of the pressure off of him. Well, he would have gladly traded that pressure in exchange for having at least a portion of this heartache avoided. If he hadn't have let them hang out together, would this have been prevented?

But another question played on his mind: was it his fault? His rational brain told him that the blame rested solely with Jenna, because she's the one who cheated on him. But Jon's words had stayed with him on the drive over. Had he not been there for her, and that's why it happened? Regardless... it had been Jon, and that was under his skin most of all. He was going to be the laughing stock of the dressing room—forget about what he was going to tell his parents and his friends. “Of everyone, why him?”

Jenna shrugged again, not to be apathetic, but because she didn't have an answer. If someone else had been there with her after returning from the Art Institute, would she have let that other person kiss her? Would she have kissed back? Would they have had sex, too? Or maybe the reason wasn't Jon; maybe it was the situation. Jenna always had a blast with her Jonny when they hung out together, because Jon was a different person than Patrick. It was a nice contrast, being able to talk with Jon and then go home with Patrick—she couldn't imagine it the other way around, living with Jon and just being friends with Patrick.

“Jesus, Jenna! I'm freaking out here! Can't you say something?” he exploded.

“I already told you that I'm sorry,” she explained. “I'm not more sorry just because you found out who it was, because I can't possibly be any more regretful. It was the worst mistake of my life to do that to you. I didn't do it specifically to hurt you, because I never, ever, wanted to hurt you.”

“Why didn't you just tell me it was him? When I asked, why didn't you say so?”

“Because I knew this would happen. I knew that telling you was going to be painful enough. I didn't want to make it worse, but I had to tell you. I needed to get it off my chest, and I needed you to know. You had to know, if we were going to get.... Well,” she mumbled, fiddling with the ring around her finger. “I, um.... I guess you want this back.”

“What?” he asked, not realizing what she was talking about until she pulled off her engagement ring and held it out in front of her. He sucked in a deep breath of air, which in turn burned his lungs. “You're giving that back to me?”

Jenna shrugged again, not knowing what else to do. When no other words were spoken, she filled the silence. “I figured you'd want it. Get your money back or something.” She still wanted to cry, but the tears just wouldn't come. “I guess if it was so hard, then maybe we weren't supposed to get married.”

Patrick was frozen. He didn't know what to do. He was hurt, he was angry, and he was confused as hell; but he didn't know if any of that meant that their relationship was over or if they'd never have some sort of future. He wasn't sure if he could get past this, or if he wanted to try. There was simply too much finality in taking back the ring, and he wasn't sure what he had decided. “I don't know what I want, Jenna. I'm... I don't know what I am. I'm mad at you. God, I hate you so much right now. But believe it or not, I still love you. I wish I could just stop, but I can't.”

She nodded, feeling relieved to know that he still cared but also feeling devastated at his proclamation of hate. Jenna had expected it, but it still hurt to hear it. They were still stuck in limbo, and she detested every minute of it. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of the cliff; Patrick could either save her, or he could push her over the edge. “So, then, what do I do with this?”

“I guess you can hold on to it,” he replied, grabbing the ring and slipping it on the third finger of her right hand. “I've got some thinking to do, I guess. I....” He took a deep breath. “I have to figure out what I want to do.” Patrick turned toward the door. He hadn't gotten any of the answers that he had been seeking, but he realized that there probably where no answers to his questions.

“I'm going back to Vermont,” Jenna blurted out, catching him as he was leaving the apartment. “Just so you know.”

“What? Why?”

“I can't stay here, Patrick,” she said, swinging her arms out around her. “There's no where for me here.” She meant it. She couldn't stay in Jon's apartment, she couldn't go to the home they once shared because it was Patrick's, and she couldn't even bear the thought of living in Chicago without him. Jenna was retreating, but she had no where else to go.

“Go home,” Patrick replied, before he realized that it sounded like he was casting back to the Northeast. “I mean, our home. I haven't been staying there anyways, so you'll have it to yourself. Until I decide,” he explained, heading out the door.

. : 19 : .

[I love your reactions. I have the best readers, ever, in the history of Blogger. Thank you all for your comments and votes. Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays!]

Patrick was feeling a variety of indescribable emotions, but most of all, he was in disbelief. He was also angry, and similarly sad; in addition, he was confused and shocked. However, the overriding feeling was complete disbelief. They'd been together over eight years. It had taken him longer than hoped or expected, but he'd proposed. They'd set a date, and they were going to get married in eight short months. The main thought in his head was: who waits until now to have an affair?

He thought that it had to be one of those artsy-fartsy fellows in art school. After all, Jenna was a busy person: she kept their home in working order; she came to all his games and did charity work for the team like all the other WAGs; and she attended graduate classes. Was it another student in one of her classes? A professor? Or maybe an artist—a guy that understood paintings and could talk to her on her level in a way that Patrick couldn’t. As her fiancé, he felt incompetent and impotent, because Jenna’s need to have an affair meant that somehow, he wasn’t enough for her.

It made no sense to him, which was probably why he had such a difficult time believing it. Now? After he was finally giving her everything she wanted? He couldn't wrap his head around the thought of Jenna cheating on him. She wasn't that type of girl.... Well, at least he had thought so. Maybe he didn't know her so well after all.

That thought irritated him like thorn stuck in his bear claw; it was festering and bothering him. He did know Jenna. Sure, sometimes he was a ditz like Paris Hilton and forgot something important, or did something that she wasn't too happy about. Like that one year he forgot her birthday. That was an accident, and it didn't mean that he didn't love her; it just meant that he needed to write shit like that down because he simply could not remember. And it wasn't like he only forgot hers—he forgot everyone's birthdays.

But Patrick felt like he knew her as in her spirit or her soul. It wasn't about just knowing her birthstone (garnet) or favorite color (green) or the name of her first dog (Sparky). It was about knowing her attitude and morals and philosophy on life. And Jenna was a good person—in fact, the best he knew. Which is why this whole thing was so out of character for her, and why Patrick was so damned confused about it.

He’d gone straight home after leaving the Art Institute, but that had turned out to be a mistake. The place reeked of Jenna; it had her touches everywhere. When Patrick had been traded from Philadelphia to Chicago, he bought this house because he needed somewhere to live. But it wasn’t until he asked Jenna to move from her home state of Vermont to Illinois that this barren building finally began to feel less like a residence and more like his home. Their home. And it didn’t feel like home now.

Jenna had decorated—she’d picked out the furniture and the rugs and arranged everything, and picked out the “accent pieces” as she called them and took pride in the presentation of their home. Everything around him reminded him of her and the future they were supposed to share together. They had built this home together, and now, it meant absolutely nothing.

As he paced the living room floor and tried to rationalize Jenna’s admission, Patrick grabbed the closest thing to him—which happened to be a glass candle holder—and launched it across the room. He watched as it shattered against the wall, and still he felt nothing. He was empty and devoid of all emotion. Except for the lingering confusion.

How? Why?

Patrick wondered to himself if it were masochistic to want answers to those questions. Didn’t he deserve an answer? As badly as he wanted to know, he couldn’t bring himself to even think about asking them—that would mean he’d have to speak to Jenna. And he wasn’t ready to do that just yet. He couldn’t imagine talking to her calmly or even being in the same room with her, which is why he’d left her behind.

Leaving the shattered pieces as they lay, he hurried up the stairs into his bedroom. He grabbed his overnight bag, which he had just unpacked hours before, and began to fill it again. Under no circumstances could he stay in this place that was supposed to be his sanctuary. Nothing compared to coming home after being away for a game or two or several, but he didn’t get that “safe” feeling he was supposed to feel here. He couldn’t be in this building any longer, especially if Jenna showed up.

So Patrick packed his bag and left for a hotel. A rented room wasn’t going to feel like home either, but he was used to traveling and sleeping alone in strange beds. There was a normalcy and consistency in the routine of staying in hotels that his home couldn’t provide for him.

Sunday was an off day for the team, and Monday was an optional practice. There was a five-day break between their games, which was either seen as a luxury or a curse, depending on which player was asked. Patrick usually would enjoy a long reprieve from the demands of the rink, but at this moment, he wished there were a practice for him to opt into going. That way, there’d be something for him to focus on that wasn’t Jenna, and there’d be a reason to not wonder about what had gone wrong. Or rather, what he had done wrong. Wonder about what he had done that had suddenly made her do something so rash and uncharacteristic. Half of him knew that it wasn’t his fault, because he wasn’t the one who had cheated; but the other half thought that he had somehow pushed her into it—that he was supposed to be man enough for her so she’d never have to turn to another person. But, as it turned out, he hadn’t been enough for her.

He went on Monday to the optional practice, though, and a few of his teammates cast odd glances in his direction as he walked in. Patrick may have been an alternate captain, but he didn’t always exude the leadership qualities that Duncan or Jon did—and no one was expecting him to show up for this practice. He tried his best to ignore those stares as he walked in a straight line to his stall to gear up.



Jon, of course, went to the optional skate that Monday. He went to every one, no matter what, which was just one of the many reasons he made a suitable captain. His direction, focus, and sense of responsibility were the driving factors of his success. But he was especially anxious for this practice. First, he wanted to see if he was progressing any further and if he could start skating again so he could play in the upcoming game. Their next game wasn’t until Thursday, when they played in Phoenix, so he hoped that he’d be okay by then. Second, he wanted to get out of his apartment and clear his head. He’d insisted that Jenna stay with him during this confusing and uncertain time, but it was emotionally draining for him.

Jenna had told him that she called him only because she didn’t know who else to turn to. After all, no one else could understand her predicament—and she sure as hell wasn’t about to tell anyone else what she had done. She was too ashamed for that. But she felt guilty for relying on him at this time. She didn’t love him like he wanted, and she felt like she was taking advantage of that by taking him up on his offer.

The worst feeling of all, for both Jon and Jenna, was that which stemmed from knowing that she had ended up coming to Jon even though she didn’t choose him. She wanted Patrick, and that’s why she had to come clean and tell him what she had done; there was no possible way for them to be together unless Patrick was keenly aware of the situation. But once he found out, he couldn’t be around her. And, once again, when Jenna couldn’t depend on Patrick for emotional support, she turned to the one person who was always there: Jon.

And Jon very well knew that his qualities of reliability and responsibility were exactly what made him a great friend to Jenna and nothing more. Dependable and reliable were things that people looked for in cars or accountants or security systems. Because romance and love weren’t predictable and definite, and certainly not rational or explainable. Simply put, Jenna loved Patrick for all the reasons she couldn’t love Jon. He balanced her out in the areas she was lacking—she needed Patrick to feel complete and whole.

Jon did not expect to see Patrick at practice. Patrick was aloof and distant as he laced up his skates and slipped into his pads, completely ignoring the banter going on around him. Not that he would have wanted to hear what they were saying, anyway.

“Seabs, dude, did you hear the rumor from Philly? Carter’s fucking Hartnell’s wife?” Keith said, howling with laughter. “That’s why they’re sucking so bad!”

“Jesus Christ, are you serious?” Brent asked. “I didn’t even know he was married! He’s such an ugly fuck, who would want to date him, let only marry him?”

“Hey, there’s supposed to be someone out there for everyone. Maybe there’s something wrong with her, and she had to settle,” Kris interjected.

“Either that, or she’s just another jersey chaser. Sounds like that’s the case, if she’s not satisfied with one Flyer. But then again, who can blame her when her husband’s Hartnell?” Keith responded.

“I don’t care, that’s still fucked up,” Brent added. “You just don’t do shit like that, ya know? Not to a teammate. I don’t care how pretty the chick is. I don’t care if her fucking pussy tastes like Dom Pérignon—you just don’t do shit like that.”

Jon reddened as he pulled his Under Armour over his head. He felt like he was being scolded. Jon knew very well that he shouldn’t have committed that social faux pas, but he also knew that hindsight was 20/20. What had felt so right in the moment back then was now plaguing him. When he and Jenna had made love, Jon had never expected this to be the outcome. When he thought about how he felt back then, when he first found himself falling for Jenna, he felt like they used to have so much potential. However, that potential had obviously since then shriveled up like a raisin. Maybe, under different circumstances, they could have had something great... but that wasn’t possible now.

“Oh, come on,” Keith laughed, poking fun at his defense partner and directing the conversation in what was supposed to be a lighter direction. “We all see the way you look at Cara. Good thing Kaner’s not here, or else he’d get suspicious.”

“Fuck you,” Brent laughed. “Besides we all know I prefer blondes. Like Jenna.”

Patrick’s head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed at Brent. He hadn’t been paying attention to what they were saying, but he heard her name. “What did you just say?”

“I said I like blondes, like Jenna,” Brent responded, answering exactly the question he had been asked but having no idea about what the consequences were going to be.

His eyes flashed, giving everyone in the room little warning about what he was going to do. He pushed himself off the bench and balanced himself on the thin skate blades before launching himself at Brent and unleashing the dormant anger which had been slumbering since Jenna’s confession days before. Patrick grabbed him by his jersey with his left hand and yanked the dark-haired defenseman toward him as he pulled back his right hand, balled tightly into a fist. He brought that fist forward, craving the feeling of his calloused knuckles connecting with his bony jaw. He wanted it more than anything, like an unconscious desire that his mind couldn’t recognize. In fact, his mind was completely unaware of what his body was doing, until he never got that satisfying feeling of punching Brent’s lights out.



“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Jon hollered, placing himself in a precarious position between Patrick and Brent, trying to push them apart. Duncan likewise had grabbed Patrick from behind and pulled.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?” Brent yelled, his ears turning pink as he flushed. “It was a joke. We were just joking around!”

Patrick tried to cast his interfering teammates away so he could finish his assault, but he was unable to do either. Instead, Jon forced them to separate and even went so far as to shove Patrick until they were in the trainer’s room. “Let go of me, Taze,” he ground out between his teeth, fire still smoldering in his eyes.

“You need to calm down,” he replied, closing the door and blocking the exit.

“But he said—”

“I know what you’re upset about,” Jon said, the words leaving his mouth before he could properly think about what he was saying.

“You know?” he asked, flabbergasted. When Jon nodded, Patrick continued, “Jenna told you? You knew, and you didn’t tell me? What kind of a friend are you?”

“A horrible friend,” he sighed, shaking his head. “But she loves you, Sharpie. More than anything.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” he spat, pissed off beyond belief. “She cheated, and you knew. She went to you, she told you, and she left me out to dry. You’re just as fucking bad as she is.”

“I am,” Jon admitted. “It was me.”

Patrick didn’t immediately understand what Jon meant. He knew what he said, but it didn’t really fit in the context of the conversation. Slowly, piece by piece and bit by bit, the epiphany came to him. “What? You? How could.... Why?” Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. “I let you into my home!” he roared, grabbing the closest thing to him and whipping it at Jon’s head.

He ducked and avoided the jar of rub. “We didn’t mean for it to happen, Sharpie. And she’s really torn up about it. She’s sorry she hurt you, and she wishes that it never happened.”

When Patrick heard that, he let out a feral, furious growl. If he knew she was penitent, then he had seen her since their blow-out on Saturday. How could Jenna possibly be remorseful if she had turned straight back to the man she had cheated with? “You asshole!”

“Just calm down—”

“Stop telling me that! I will not calm down! How could you? She’s my wife! She was supposed to be my wife,” he said, correcting himself. Either way, with a certificate or not, Patrick felt like they were married.

“I told you, it just happened!” Jon repeated, having to dodge another projectile.

“You stupid fucker! Things like that don’t just happen unless you let them happen!”

“Yes, they do! It did! Neither of us meant to do anything to hurt or spite you. I’m telling you—it just... happened.” He was being truthful; even though he had fallen in love with her, Jon had purposely kept his distance to avoid this very situation. It didn’t seem fair that Patrick’s relationship and the team’s chemistry and sense of fraternity had to be in direct opposition to Jon’s happiness. Somehow, there had to be a way to achieve all three.

“How?” Patrick demanded. His head was swimming, and his thoughts were swirling. Jon was supposed to be his friend, and Jenna was supposed to be his girl. They were supposed to be the two people in this world that he could rely on for support—he never would have suspected they’d do something like this to hurt him. Patrick felt betrayed by the two people that he trusted most, by the two people that he should have been able to depend on more than anyone else.

But worst of all, Patrick had actively encouraged the friendship between the two of them. He had liked that the two of them had each other for company during the team events and hangouts since they didn’t fit in with the other guys, and he let them spend time together, and thereby inadvertently fostered and facilitated their affair. Patrick felt like such a fool, and a wave of nausea hit him again. “How the fuck could that just happen?”

“You weren’t there for her!” Jon didn’t mean to raise his voice, but he did so instinctively.

“Don’t give me that. We travel all the time. I can’t help it, and she knows that. She knew that that’s what it was going to be like when I went pro. And it wasn’t a problem before.” He paused. “Fucking shit, you travel with the team, too! It’s a crock of shit.”

“Not physically be there. Not having to be around her all the time. Sharp, she needed you to listen and talk to her. She wanted you to show an interest in her interests. Show an interest in her world, instead of making things all about you,” Jon explained, remembering that fight that they didn’t know he overheard. “Instead you went out with Bur and didn’t help with the wedding or make it seem like you care about it—or her—at all.”

“Jenna knows I love her. Loved her. Whatever.” Patrick ran a hand through his hair again before rubbing his forehead. It would have been easier on him if he could just shut off his heart and stop loving her, because that would stop the ache in the center of his chest. Unfortunately, he couldn’t, and it didn’t.

“Does she?” Jon asked. Now was not a great time to be offering advice or sage wisdom, but it was as good of a time as it was ever going to get. “It’s not enough to simply tell someone you love them. You have to show them.”

“Like you’re such a fucking expert on love, Taze,” he retorted, still angry as ever. “That’s why you had to fuck someone’s girlfriend instead of getting your own! Well, you know what? You can have her!”

“She doesn’t want me, Sharpie,” Jon sadly replied. It had been the realization that he had known for days, but that notion was solidified when he said it out loud. It made it real. “She wants you.”

“Then she should have thought of that before she spread her legs for you.” With those last words, he shoved Jon to the side and stormed through the door. Patrick quickly shed his gear and skates, dressing back into his street clothes. He had thought that being on the ice would get his mind off his predicament, that wasn’t an option anymore. Not when he could place a name and a face to the person that had wrecked his relationship, his life, his love.

. : 18 : .

“You... you what?” Patrick stood dazed in the lobby of the Art Institute, knowing that his ears must have been playing tricks on him. Jenna would never, under any circumstances, ever have an affair.

Jenna placed her hand over her mouth, surprised at herself at how she had just blurted out her confession. There wasn't an easy way to tell him, but that certainly had been the simplest. “I, uh, had an affair.”

“No,” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You mean, you just flirted with someone. Maybe you kissed him. That’s it, right? You didn’t do anything else, did you?” He opened his eyes and examined the face of his distressed fiancée, waiting to see that this was all some kind of joke or misunderstanding. “You didn’t... sleep with him, did you?”

She couldn’t deny it, like he wished she would, so she chose not to admit it and instead apologized profusely. “Patrick, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” Jenna said, reaching out for him. She had told him; it was out in the open now. Even though she was worried by his initial reaction, the hard part was over. Now they had to find a way to work through it.

He jerked back to avoid her touch. The thought of what those hands had done, what they had touched, disgusted him. The thought of some other man touching his woman repulsed him even more. Where had he touched her? Had she enjoyed it? The thought made him physically ill; Patrick felt like he was going throw up. “Don't touch me. Don’t you dare touch me. Are you serious? You seriously slept with some guy?” He watched as Jenna slowly nodded, her eyes closed to pinch the tears back from falling down her cheeks. “Wh-when? Why? Jenna....” His voice faded out, because he couldn't find the words. “Why would you do that? Oh my god, are you still...?”

“No! It’s over and done with. It didn't mean anything to me, Patrick. I love you—”

“You can stop right there,” he snapped, running his hand over his face and trying to take a deep breath and calm down. Suddenly, though, he'd forgotten how to inhale. “You.... Oh God. You tell me you have an affair, but you love me? Wh.... Je.... I can’t, ugh, I can’t even think straight!” he yelled, beginning to pace the floor and run his hands through his hair, over his face, and then back through his hair again. “I... I love you, Jenna. How could you do this? How could you just give my love away to someone else?”

“I do love you, Patrick, and he meant nothing to me,” she admitted, realizing now that even though she had offered her body to Jon, Patrick had always had claim to her heart and soul. “It just kind of happened. I was feeling upset with you, because of the wedding—”

“So this is my fault?”

Jenna felt as if he’d thrown acid on her as his voice roared and echoed in the marble lobby. She shrunk back and glanced off to the side. It hurt her to look at him, because he was so visibly pained. She made herself look into his eyes while she offered her answer. “No, not at all. It didn’t have anything to do with you.... This is all on me. All my fault.”

“When?”

“Patrick....” Jenna whispered, thinking that she didn’t want to do this here and now. Not in public. Then again, it was because of her that they were doing this in the lobby of the Art Institute, because she had just confessed without thinking.

“Don’t Patrick me, Jenna. Tell me. I want to know. When did this happen?”

She looked down at her feet. “Two weeks ago?”

“Two... wha....” Patrick barely eked out, feeling winded. “I can’t believe this. With who?” When she didn’t answer, he pressed her for the information. “Tell me, Jenna, who?”

“Does it matter?” she whispered, looking at him again. Jenna had already done the worst of the worst that she could possibly do to the man she loved. If Patrick were to find out that it had been her Jonny, his teammate—his captain—then it would be impossible to move on from that. And as it was, Jenna wasn’t sure how things would progress from here.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” he ground out between his teeth. “You still slept with someone who wasn’t me. I can’t believe it, Jenna. I fucking love you. And this is what you do? I go out on the road and meet dozens of girls, and never once did I think about doing anything with them! You... you are the one who always does the right thing. You’re the one who makes sure I don’t fuck up. You’re the smart one. The rational one. How... how could you?”

Jenna sniffed and tried to stay strong. People were staring at them, and she hated that they all knew what a screw up she was and that she had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her. “I’m sorry. It was just a physical reaction. And I told you, that it meant nothing.”

“Well, then, I hope you’re glad to know that you just threw away eight fucking years for something—for someone—that means absolutely nothing to you. I hope you’re fucking happy,” Patrick spat, running his hand over his face one more time and wiping the tears away. “I wanted to marry you. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I still can’t believe it. I can’t... ugh, I just can’t be around you right now.”

“Please, Patrick, don’t go,” she cried, reaching out and starting to chase after him as he took long strides toward the doors they had just walked through minutes before. “Please, Patrick,” she yelled, one more time, trying her damnedest to fight against the tears, but it was too late.



Jon wasn’t expecting this phone call. He knew, without Jenna having to say it, that she wasn’t going to choose him like he had so desperately wanted. So this must have been a mere formality that she was calling him on this Saturday morning to finally tell Jon what he already knew. With a deep breath, he tried to steel himself for what was coming and answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Jonny?”

He took a sharp intake of air. Yes, Jon had been expecting this phone call, but he hadn’t expected Jenna to call in tears. “Jenna, what’s wrong?”

“Um, I kind of need a ride. Do you think you can come get me?”

So many questions flew through his head. Why was she crying? Was she stranded somewhere? And why was she calling him, and not Patrick? No matter what her reasons, Jon of course was going to do anything she asked. “Where are you?”

“The art museum,” she answered, shakily. Her whole body was racked with sobs.

Jon was glad that he lived so close to downtown. “Ten minutes. Don’t go anywhere,” he said, hanging up and quickly grabbing his keys. His feet raced like his brain, running down the stairs and heading for his car. He knew that Jenna didn’t love him, or at least didn’t love him like she did Patrick, but his heart held out hope that there was a reason she was calling him. He would find out soon enough, he thought to himself, as he drove down Michigan Avenue and pulled up in front of the lion statues and steps of the Art Institute.

Jenna recognized his car and promptly ran across the expanse of the sidewalk and got into his vehicle. The ten minutes she had to wait for him were the longest ten minutes of her life. She thought that maybe they were the worst, but that wasn’t true; the worst ten minutes of her life were those that had transpired in the lobby. That Patrick had done something so nice for her, and she done something so awful.

She looked like a wreck, and she knew it; everyone had been staring at her. And not just because of the fight. Now, Jon had his eyes on her. “Thank you,” she choked out, “for coming to get me.”

“Sure. No problem,” he replied, putting the car back into drive and merging into traffic. Jon debated on whether he should say anything. Should he ask what was bothering her? Or should he wait for her to say something? Unsure, he kept quiet, and they made their way through downtown Chicago in silence until he had to ask the inevitable. “So, um, where to?”

Jenna dissolved into tears. “I don’t know.”

Jon nodded, even though she couldn’t see. He drove the familiar route back to his apartment complex. Even though she was so upset, she was still functional and working on autopilot. When they got back to his place, she got out of the car and followed him up the stairs and into his living room before she plopped onto the couch.

Trying to be kind and sensitive to whatever she was going through, Jon grabbed a box of Kleenex tissues and offered it to her. She grabbed one and held it up to her face, dabbing at her tired, red eyes. “Thanks.”

“Sure. No problem,” he repeated, taking his seat beside her. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Jenna took a deep breath, which did nothing to help calm her. “I told him, Jonny. I told Patrick that I had an affair.”

He stiffened; Jon had no idea what this meant. Had Jenna told Patrick because she leaving him? Or to work things out with him? And even though it was a little selfish of him, Jon wondered how he fit into that—both from how Jenna was acting, and how Patrick might react the next time he saw him. No matter what, he would accept the consequences and responsibilities of his actions.

“Don’t worry, Jonny, I didn’t tell him about us. That it was you. This is about me and him, and I dragged you into it enough already.”

Jon nodded and inadvertently let out a deep breath. He didn’t even realize he had been holding it in, but he suddenly knew that part of him was feeling incredibly relieved. However, another part of him was deeply saddened. Jenna hadn’t dragged him into anything that he hadn’t been willing to participate in. He’d wanted to make love to her, and Jenna made it sound like she’d attacked him or raped him.

And plus, Jon was involved in this in too many complex ways. Jenna was his friend, and he was in love with her even if she didn’t know it. They had made love together. Patrick was his teammate, and Jon was Patrick’s captain. She couldn’t simply say that Jon was not involved in this situation; he was wrapped up in it as much as Jenna and Patrick were.

“So, you told him?” he asked, trying to coax her into continuing. Jon knew that Patrick obviously hadn’t reacted well.

“Yeah. He, um, he was upset, and he left. He said... he said I threw it all away,” she sobbed, pulling her knees up to her chest and burrowing her face into curled up body.

Jon wasn’t sure what to do—he didn’t know if it was okay for him to reach out and try to comfort her. Jenna probably didn’t want him to come anywhere near her, seeing as though he essentially just broke up her relationship. But his heart went out to her, and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her into his arms.

Jenna didn’t fight it. She allowed him to move closer to her and hold her, and she in turn rested against him. Jenna was upset, no doubt, but Jon was sad, too; he had the woman he loved in his arms, but she wasn’t his.



Jenna hated herself more than anything. Finally, she had come clean to the man she loved, and it ended with her driving him away. With no idea what to do, she turned to the other man she had been stringing along, and now she was dragging him through all her emotional muck. Jon should have just stayed far away from her, because she was no good for him. He probably didn’t even really like her in the first place; he just liked the idea of having someone there for him the way she had been there for Patrick.

The way she would never be able to be there for Patrick anymore.

It felt good to be held, even though those weren’t the arms she had hoped for. They were strong arms, and they were competent. But they weren’t Patrick’s. Jenna knew that she didn’t like Jon like that, and that made being in his apartment so wrong. Surely he knew by the way she was crying that she hadn’t picked him. Nevertheless, Jon was there for her emotionally, in the way that Patrick couldn’t be.

The two were as different as night and day. Never before in history could there have been such a sharp contrast between two people. Even though it didn’t make sense for Jenna and Patrick to work out as a couple, that’s all she wanted in this world.

She shouldn’t have told—if Jenna had kept her mouth shut, none of this would have happened. Patrick never would have found out, and she would have found a way to live with the nagging and consuming guilt. At least, that’s what she was telling herself as she cried and wailed and wept in the arms of not-Patrick.

At some point, Jenna had physically exhausted herself and she fell asleep in the puddle of tears on Jon’s shoulder. He scooped her up and carried her into his bedroom. For a moment, he thought about disrobing her—with the purest of intentions—and dressing her in something more comfortable to sleep in, but he decided against it. It’s not like he hadn’t seen Jenna naked before, but given the circumstances, it would have been inappropriate. So instead, he removed her heels and pulled the covers around her sleeping body.

Jenna slept like a rock. She was drained, emotionally and physically, and the world could have fallen apart around her and she wouldn’t have noticed. Hell, her world was falling apart around her. Everything was shattering—her dreams, her hope, her heart, and her life. But now that she was deep in sleep, she couldn’t feel any of the pain.

Jon watched her for a while, to make sure that she was okay, before he left the room and closed the door behind him gently so he wouldn’t wake her. He wasn’t stupid. Sure, he had made a lot of mistakes in the past two weeks—and he meant a lot—but that didn’t mean that he had ill will toward either Jenna or Patrick. In fact, he loved Jenna more than he had ever loved a girl in this world. And Patrick was more than a guy he played hockey with—he was his friend.

He shook his head. How had he let this happen? Jon was a smart guy, and he made plans and followed through. He was twenty-one and a captain of a professional team for the National Hockey League. He set goals, and he achieved them. He scored them. But he had never wanted to cause something like this. Jon had always considered himself to be a good person, but he hadn’t been acting that way lately.

Everything could be fixed. There was always a way to make things better, right? No, Jon couldn’t rewind time and prevent any of this from happening. The repercussions were rippling out, and the turbulence was only beginning to take its effect on their world. This wasn’t over just because Jenna had confessed about the affair. No, this was just the beginning. And if they could somehow cut this off at the pass and stop the pain before it snowballed into complete and utter devastation, then all three of them would benefit.

Jon knew he needed a plan. After all, his life had been one big plan to get to this current position. He was disciplined and focused—and when he set his mind to something, he always, always got it. Well, almost always. He wanted Jenna, but he wanted her to be happy more than anything. So if she was only going to be happy with Patrick, then he needed to find a way to get them back together.

But he also knew that Patrick was a proud man, and there wasn’t going to be an easy solution to this predicament. Jon sat back down on the couch and thought, but nothing came to him. He couldn’t just outright call Patrick, because that would look suspicious. But he wondered if Patrick wondered where Jenna was. After all, he just kind of left her behind. Sure, he was mad, but he abandoned her, too. That was inexcusable, in his opinion, because even if he was erupting with anger, he should have never, ever left her like that.

That was why Patrick was Patrick and Jon was Jon. They were different as different could be, and that’s why Jon was willing to help Jenna be happy even if it meant that he was going to be horribly, unfortunately unhappy.

. : 17 : .

[I want to thank everyone for your votes and comments. It means a lot to me. So thanks and please enjoy!]

Jon watched as Jenna and Patrick walked into the arena. He’d seen the sight a thousand times before—okay, maybe not that many times, but it felt like it. They always showed up together before games, but Jon thought that maybe today, it would have been different.

They weren’t holding hands, and they weren’t even standing particularly close to each other, either; however, they didn’t look to be completely at odds with each other. The mere fact that they showed up together was distressing to Jon—if he had been playing in tonight’s game against the Predators, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. But he was going to be sitting up in the box instead of being out on the ice with his teammates because of his concussion symptoms.

He watched as they paused by the door and listened as Jenna spoke to Patrick. “Have a good game.”

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” Patrick asked, gently placing his hand on her shoulder so she couldn’t walk away yet. “Where’s my good luck kiss?”

Instead of arguing, Jenna rocked forward onto her tip-toes and gingerly pressed her lips against Patrick’s scruffy cheek. As she began to pull away, he put one hand at her waist and then threaded his other hand through her hair to hold her in place. Patrick turned his head to the side, and their lips brushed together softly. He wanted to take it a step further, but he held back and ended the kiss.

Jenna stood still after their mouths separated, eyes still closed, her heart racing. A hundred different horrible words to describe herself flew through her head. At this point, she didn’t even care about what she was putting herself through—she just felt bad for Patrick. Sure, he hadn’t always been the best boyfriend or the greatest fiancé at times, but he sure as hell didn’t deserve what she was doing to him.

“You all right, babe?” Patrick asked her, noting that she wasn’t moving. He ran his hand through her hair and then brushed it against her cheek.

“No,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.

“What is it?” he asked softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb.

“Patrick, I—”

“Hey Sharpie!” Dustin called, exiting the lounge and looking into the hallway. “Coach Q’s looking for ya.”

“Thanks, Buffy,” Patrick responded, turning away from Jenna for just a moment to talk to his teammate.

In that moment that Patrick looked away, Jenna took a deep breath and caught herself from confessing her biggest secret. She rubbed her forehead and peered down at the floor. “Have a good game,” she repeated as she pushed his hand away and removed it from its place on her waist.

“Wait a second,” Patrick said, squeezing her hand as she moved his. He was finally close to finding out what had been bugging her over the past few days. “Coach can wait.”

“No, you should go get ready. It’s fine. We can... talk later.”

“But we leave tonight for a game tomorrow against Montreal. I won’t see you ‘til Saturday.”

Jenna cleared her throat and said, “It can wait, Patrick.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand one more time. “But I’ll see you after the game, right? To say goodbye?”

It was her turn to nod, and they let go of each other and headed in different directions—Patrick into the dressing room to find Joel and Jenna down the hallway toward the office for The Blackhawk Wives and Girlfriends Association. Jon cut her off at the pass and startled her.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized sheepishly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” she mumbled. “What are you doing here so early? Are you playing already?”

“No.” Jon shrugged. “I just like sticking to my game-day routine. Figured I could watch tape, help scout or something. But I saw you. I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he added.

“I know. I’ve been thinking.”

“You haven’t... decided... anything yet?”

“I thought you said I could have as much time as I needed?” she asked, shifting her weight from her left foot to her right and starting down at the floor.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Of course. I just wanted to... you know, see how you were doing. How things were... going.” He wanted to know if she’d decided, and also if Patrick had launched whatever hare-brained scheme he’d concocted.

Jenna pursed her lips together and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t need this additional pressure from Jon. After feeling bad enough as it was—and after knowing that she couldn’t keep stringing along either man—Jenna couldn’t stand the extra urgency Jon was adding to the situation. “When I figure it out, Jonny, you’ll be one of the first to know,” she promised. “And I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

Jon watched as she walked around him and blew right past him, shaking her head and wiping away her tears. He watched as she never looked back, and watched until it finally dawned on him that Jenna was never going to choose him. If she were, she wouldn’t have practically run away from him when she was feeling this upset. She would have wanted to be comforted by him, or at least wanted to depend on him a little bit.

He knew it now, plain as day. The answer was right in front of his face, and Jenna’s, too. Jenna was in love with Patrick, and that wasn’t going to change any time soon. While Jon had figured it out, he wondered how long it would take Jenna to see that for herself—that her decision had always been Patrick, but she just hadn’t realized it yet for herself.



Jenna had always considered herself to be a good person. She did charity work, and she always put her spare change in the donation jars the registers when she went shopping. She always yielded to pedestrians and never cut off other drivers. She helped whenever she was asked.

But now, she felt like the worst person on the face of this planet. She was the worst person on Earth. She had two men fighting for her affection, and she was stringing both of them along for no good reason. Worst of all, one of them, her fiancé, had no idea. The man she was supposed to share everything with—her life, her dreams, her happiness—was completely unaware of her crisis.

Patrick had been so sweet recently. Did he somehow know? He couldn’t possibly, or else he’d be mad and not sweet. And would be beyond mad. Furious. She cheated, and not just once. She’d done it twice. Did that constitute as an affair? Sleeping with the same man, who wasn’t her fiancé, more than once?

Jenna wound her way through the United Center and headed for the offices. Surely there would be something there that she could devote some time and attention to, something to distract her for a moment as she tried to collect her thoughts. With the holidays coming up, there would be fundraisers and raffles and tons of other things that would require planning, which was just the sort of thing she needed to take her mind off the two men in the building.

Didn’t girls usually like the idea of having two men fight over them? It was the idea of being wanted, sought after, desired.... There were times when Jenna didn’t feel like Patrick cared, and now there were too many people caring. It wasn’t supposed to work out like this. Things weren’t supposed to get so messed up. She had always wanted to marry Patrick, and have his babies, and raise them together in a happy little family. They’d go ice skating at the rink every winter at Madison and Michigan. They’d go to Shedd Aquarium and watch the fish and whales and dolphins and turtles and penguins and sharks. Most of all, she’d dress the little ones in Blackhawk jerseys, all with the number ten on the back, and they’d go to the games to watch Patrick play with hand-made signs that would read Go, Daddy, Go! or I love my dad!

And now, she’d ruined any chance of that. If Patrick knew, he’d never forgive her. But she couldn’t keep this secret forever. As it was, she’d almost spilled her guts to him earlier. She’d almost told him about the horrible thing she had done. As long as she didn’t tell him, they could be together. But if she didn’t tell him, this secret would rip them apart. It was a Catch-22, and no matter the outcome, Jenna was going to lose everything she ever wanted.

Unless, that is, if she gave it all up voluntarily. Yes, Patrick had suddenly turned sweet and loving—but was that a permanent change? Was that indicative of the way things were going to be from now on? After all, it wasn’t like Patrick was normally a jerk. He was just a clueless, blissfully unaware, typical guy that lived on a whim. That didn’t make him a bad person. He was a good person, in fact. A great guy, who just happened to forget their anniversary every couple of years or who didn’t want to take her to go see a chick flick or the like. He wasn’t in tune with her emotions, but what guy was?

Well, Jenna had an answer for that question: Jon was. He was in tune with her emotions. They were similar types of people with similar personalities. They got each other; they understood each other. But were they too similar or too identical to each other? Jenna worried that she was too different from Patrick but too similar to Jon to find a happy medium.

Jon was a great guy. Jenna couldn’t deny that. But was he her great guy? She didn’t know; she’d never thought about him like that before. He had always been her friend, the person to turn to when Patrick and Adam and the rest of the guys on the team were drinking beers and celebrating the wins. Jon was someone for Jenna to talk to before she went home with Patrick for the night. Could it be different now? Should it be different now?

Jenna sat down in one of the chairs and rested her head in her hands. It wasn’t fair to either man, to Patrick or to Jon, that she was being so wishy-washy. It wasn’t fair to Jon that she was stringing him along after he declared his affection for her and that he was willing to risk a lot—everything he’d worked for, in fact—for her. That was the biggest proclamation she’d ever heard. It was bigger than Patrick’s proposal to her that summer.

Most of all, however, it wasn’t fair to Patrick; Jenna felt the worst for him through this all. He was unaware. Usually, his ambivalence and devil-may-care attitude was his own fault, but not this time around. Jenna was sure if he knew about what she’d done, he’d have plenty to say about it.

She did her best to plaster on a smile as she got ready to take her seat for the game. No one else needed to know about the storm that was raging inside her mind. She had to make up her mind, and soon. Jenna had been saying that to herself for a while now, but she really did need to figure out what the hell she was going to do.



Patrick was ready to burst out of his skin. It took some major string pulling, but he’d come up with his brilliant idea and set the ball rolling. And it had also taken a lot name dropping, a lot of smooth talking, and a little extra money to get it done quickly like he wanted, but it was going to be so worth it. Patrick knew down to his core that Jenna was going to love this. Yes, he knew that she didn’t care about how much money he spent on anything, but this seriously hadn’t been about the money to Patrick. This time, it was all about the look of pure elation that was going to be on Jenna’s face, like a kid on Christmas morning.

He’d started with the calls on Thursday, before the home game, when he should have been napping. But once the idea came to him, he was way too excited to sleep a wink. So he’d set the plan in motion and had forsaken sleep. His play had suffered for it, and the game had ended with them being shut out and everyone kept off the score sheet. It had been a bad game for the entire team.

When the game was over and the team had showered and changed, they headed in a line toward the bus like school children getting ready to go on a field trip. Women and families were lined up along the way, so the guys could say their quick goodbyes while being herded to the airport. Patrick stepped out of line when he saw Jenna; she never saw him coming, because she wasn’t looking for him. Her arms were crossed below her breasts, and she was staring at the floor.

Patrick wore a half-smile. Even if she didn’t look thrilled to be there, she had still waited for him. Once again, he sidled up to her and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. He kissed her temple first, and then her lips. “Hey. So, we’ll be back right after tomorrow’s game.”

“Okay,” she replied, still concentrating on the floor.

“Don’t make plans for Saturday,” he continued.

Jenna looked up at him suddenly, a bit of concern in her eyes. “Why?”

Patrick smiled down at her. “Well, I guess you’ll find out on Saturday, now won’t you?” He kissed her one more time before he let go suddenly and trotted toward the bus. The ride to the airport, the flight to Montreal, and the game against the Canadiens passed by so slowly for him as he waited for Saturday to roll around. He was more excited for this than anything else in recent memory.

In fact, once he got home from the away game—which they had regrouped to win three to two—he could hardly fall asleep in his own bed. Patrick was anxious and excited and unable to keep still.

“Aren’t you supposed to be tired?” Jenna mumbled at some point, agitated by Patrick’s tossing and turning.

“I’m excited,” he whispered in her ear. “Let’s get ready.”

“It’s barely six thirty. Patrick, go to sleep.”

He allowed himself to flit in and out of sleep for the next few hours, unable to drift off and get some rest. Jenna finally threw back the covers around eight o’clock. True to her schedule, she showered before dressing in jeans, a beige sweater, and brown heels. She was just about to start fixing something for breakfast when Patrick bounded down the stairs, dressed in black slacks and a green button-down Oxford shirt. That was Jenna’s favorite shirt on him.

“What’s going on, Patrick?” she asked warily. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

He smiled broadly. That smile always made Jenna’s knees go weak. “Well, come on and I’ll show you.” He grabbed her hand gently and tugged on it so she had to follow him. “I promise you that you’ll appreciate it.”

Jenna bit her lip, both intrigued and a little scared. She let Patrick open the passenger-side door of his car for her, and she sat patiently as he navigated the streets of downtown Chicago, following a familiar route that she knew well. “Patrick, what are we doing at the Art Institute?”

Again, he smiled. “You’ll see.”

So many thoughts buzzed through her mind, so she easily complied as he parked and directed her toward the inside lobby. He left her by the entrance as he talked to the clerk, and then she let him direct her further into the lobby. Instead of going up the stairs or heading into the first-floor gallery, he stopped, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. “Seriously, Patrick, what’s going on?”

He spun her until she faced the wall, and then he pointed. “See?”

Following his line of sight, she looked at the collection of plaques on the marble. One was shiny and new, reading Jenna Sharp. “What... what is this?”

“I wanted to do something to make you smile. I thought about it a lot, about what I could do to make you happy.”

“Patr—”

“Hold on a sec, babe,” he said. “You like art. I thought about getting a painting that you would like, but... you like so many different kinds. Honestly, I was a little afraid to get something that you wouldn’t like,” he continued with a chuckle. “And, I know you like art, but you also like to share it with other people. I mean, you’re always trying to drag me here. So, this is what I did. I made you a beneficiary to the President's Exhibition-Acquisition Fund, so that the Institute can bring new pieces to the museum, for everyone to see. I hope you don’t mind that I gave them your new name, since we’re getting married this summer.”

“You did... what?” Jenna was stunned. She was speechless. This was, quite possibly, the most incredible thing that anyone had ever done for her. It wasn’t about Patrick spending money on her; yes, he did it for her, but he did with her wishes in mind and not so she could show off.

“I figured that sharing a lot of art with other people would be better than getting one painting for you. So tell me, Jenna, what do you think? You love it, right?”

“Patrick,” she began, her mouth agape. “This is the nicest thing you’ve ever done.” She ran her fingers over that name, Jenna Sharp, and wondered if she would ever be called that. There was only one way she’d know: if she told him, and if they could somehow, possibly, maybe, find a way to work it out. She wanted that name, but it had to be up to Patrick now. “But I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

Her eyes began to cloud with tears. She had to tell him, even though it would render that plaque meaningless if he never wanted to see her again. If he decided against giving her his last name. She still wanted it, but it was all up to Patrick now. “Patrick, I... I had an affair.”