Page 104 of The Sin Bin

"Locker room. Now. We'll discuss it after."

There was no arguing with that tone. Jax made his way down the tunnel, frustration and confusion warring in his chest. What the hell had Ethan been thinking? And why did Vicky think Jax was behind it?

In the empty locker room, Jax carefully removed the face shield, the weight of his failed comeback settling over him. He hadn't even stepped on the ice, hadn't played a single shift, and now he was watching the game on the monitor above the equipment manager's desk.

The first period was a disaster. With both Ethan and Wilson ejected, the line combinations scrambled, and Jax confined to the locker room, the Chill looked disorganized and tentative. Philadelphia capitalized, scoring twice on defensive breakdowns.

Dr. Rivera appeared during the first intermission, checking Jax's orbital fracture with professional detachment.

"Since you're out," he said, "we should do a proper assessment of those ribs."

"They're fine," Jax muttered, still watching the monitor where the team was regrouping.

"Humor me."

The examination confirmed what Jax already knew—the ribs were badly bruised, possibly cracked, and any significant contact would risk further damage.

"How long for full recovery?" Jax asked finally, accepting the reality of his situation.

"Three games minimum," Dr. Rivera replied. "Possibly more, depending on how they respond to treatment."

A memory surfaced—Lauren in the hospital, her voice tight with fear as she talked about Mark's death, about the cumulative damage that had finally claimed his life. About watching someone she cared for make choices that led to irreversible consequences.

Jax nodded slowly, a decision crystallizing. The team needed stability, not the distraction he'd become. Ethan's reckless stand-in had only made things worse, creating chaos instead of resolution. And Lauren...shit...he had been a fucking idiot for almost screwing that up. She was right. He should have listened to her. He only hoped that it wasn't too late for them.

"Tell Coach I'm sitting out games four and five, if there is one." Jax said.

Dr. Rivera blinked in surprise. "That's... actually very sensible. I'll let her know."

After the doctor left, Jax checked his phone again. Still nothing from Lauren. The game continued on the monitor, Philadelphia extending their lead to 3-0 by the middle of the second period. The Chill looked lost, their defensive structure breaking down repeatedly without the steady partnership of Jax and Marcus.

By the third period, the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Philadelphia won 4-1, making the series 2-1, with momentum now firmly on their side heading into game four as they headed back to Philadelphia. But he didn't care about that right now. He needed to see Lauren. Tell her that he loved her and had been the biggest moron on the planet for not giving her what she needed from him.

Post-game, Coach Vicky found Jax in the training room, where he was receiving treatment for his ribs.

"Rivera told me your decision," she said without preamble.

What changed your mind?"

“Lauren.”

She nodded.

"The team needs me for the long run. Playing puts that at risk."

"That's leadership, Thompson. I'll adjust the lines." Vicky studied him for a long moment. "Did you put Ethan up to that stunt?"

"Nope. I had no idea what he was planning. I would have stopped him if I'd known."

She nodded slowly, accepting his word. "Kid says he did it on his own." She sighed heavily. "Rookies."

"I'm sorry," Jax said, meaning it. "But we've got this."

"We do. Get yourself healthy," Vicky said, turning to leave. "We're going to need you before this run is over."

After treatment and a shower, Jax finally checked his phone to find a text from Lauren:

Just out of surgery. Heard about the game. Are you okay?

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