Page 100 of The Sin Bin

"Three days ago, you were lying in a hospital bed because of violence," she continued, her voice quieter but no less intense. "Three days ago, I was terrified I was going to lose you. And now you're voluntarily putting yourself back in a situation where you could be permanently injured." She wiped angrily at her tears. "I don't think I can watch you do that, Jax. I don't think I'm strong enough."

Her admission hit him harder than any punch. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I need time," Lauren replied, voice shaking despite her obvious effort to steady it. "Time to think about whether I can be part of this. Whether I can stand by and watch you make this choice."

"Lauren—" Jax took a step toward her, ribs screaming in protest.

"No." She held up a hand again, stopping him. "Please don't. Not right now. I need space to figure this out."

"So you're just leaving?" Jax asked, disbelief warring with rising panic. "In the middle of all this, you're walking away?"

"I'm not walking away," Lauren corrected, hand on the doorknob. "I'm taking a step back. There's a difference."

"Feels the same from where I'm standing," Jax replied coldly, his hurt transforming into anger.

"I watched Mark die because of head injuries," Lauren said, her voice shaking. "I stood in a hospital room while doctors explained that one too many concussions had caused irreversible damage. And now I'm watching you risk the same thing."

Her words landed like a physical blow. Jax's anger deflated, replaced by a wave of shame.

"I'm not asking you to choose between hockey and me," she continued, each word deliberate. "I'm asking you to choose a future where you can still recognize your own children someday. Where you can remember their names. Where you don't end up with traumatic brain injury because you refused to let your body heal."

"Lauren, I—"

"This isn't about hockey versus us," she cut him off. "It's about your long-term health versus one game. And if you can't see the difference, then maybe we do want different things."

"That's not fair."

"None of this is fair," Lauren countered. "Not the injuries, not the timing, not having to watch someone I care about deliberately put himself in danger when there are other options."

The real question hung between them, unspoken but deafening in its silence:What matters more to you, Jax? Your pride or your future?

"I need to play tomorrow," Jax said finally, the words feeling like stones in his mouth.

Lauren nodded slowly, as if he'd confirmed something she already knew. "And I need to not watch you do it."

She gathered her purse with trembling hands, pausing at the door. For a moment, Jax thought she might turn back, might offer some compromise, some way forward. Instead, she spoke without looking at him.

"I love you, Jax. I think I have for a while now. That's why this hurts so much."

The first declaration of love between them, delivered as a goodbye. The cruel irony wasn't lost on him.

"Lauren—"

"Take care of yourself. Please." Her voice broke on the plea. "Even if you don't think you're worth protecting, you are to me."

The door closed behind her with a soft click that somehow felt more final than a slam would have. Jax stood motionless in the middle of his living room, pain radiating from his ribs and orbital bone, but nothing compared to the hollow ache spreading through his chest.

I love you too, he thought, the words trapped behind his stubborn pride and fear. But she was already gone, the apartment suddenly vast and empty without her presence.

Tripod meowed quietly from the windowsill, observing him with unblinking eyes. Penalty curled against his ankle, unaware of the seismic shift that had just occurred. The cats remained, the takeout containers remained, but something essential had walked out with Lauren—something he hadn't fully appreciated until its absence left him unbalanced, adrift.

He sank back onto the couch, his injuries forgotten in the face of this new, deeper pain. Tomorrow he would face Wilson, face the consequences of his choice. But tonight, he faced the possibility that in protecting his team, he might have lost something even more valuable.

Chapter Twenty-three

Jax

The medical center's examination room felt colder than the practice rink.

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