Page 107 of The Sin Bin

"We'll be careful," he assured her, guiding her back toward the bed. "I've thought about this too many times to stop now."

They sank down together, finding a position that protected his injuries without diminishing their connection. Lauren moved above him, setting a gentle pace that soon gave way to more urgent need. Jax's hands memorized every curve, every sensitive spot, his focus entirely on her pleasure despite his own desire.

When they came together, Lauren's name on his lips and his on hers, it felt like completion in a way neither had experienced before. Not just physical release but emotional connection, the final barrier between them dissolving in shared vulnerability.

After, Lauren lay carefully beside him, her head on his shoulder, mindful of his ribs. Jax's fingers traced lazy patterns on her skin as their breathing slowed.

"I got a call from Stephanie this morning," Lauren said, breaking the comfortable quiet. "They've cleared the service dog program completely. We knew the allegations were bullshit and now so does everyone else."

Jax's fingers stilled for a moment. "That's amazing news."

"They want to expand the program," she continued, propping herself up to look at him. "More dogs, more training opportunities. They're getting corporate sponsors interested."

"That's great," Jax said with obvious pride. "You know, that program changed everything."

"How so?"

"It showed me I could be more than just the enforcer," he explained. "That I could contribute something positive, something that would last longer than a win streak or playoff run." He brushed her hair back from her face. "It brought me to you."

Lauren settled back against him, her head finding that perfect spot on his shoulder, careful of his healing ribs. It struck her then - how a single injured kitten had changed everything. Had Penalty not needed help that night, had Jax not shown up at her clinic, they might never have found this. Found each other.

"What are you thinking about?" Jax asked, his fingers playing gently with her hair.

"How sometimes the path forward appears when we least expect it," she answered honestly. "I was so afraid of repeating past mistakes that I almost missed seeing who you really are."

"And who am I?" he asked, vulnerability in the question.

Lauren lifted herself to look into his eyes. "You're the man who cares for broken creatures. Who protects what matters. Who's brave enough to change." She traced the edge of his jaw with her fingertips. "You're the man I love."

His eyes gleamed with emotion in the low light. "I don't deserve you."

"You do," she contradicted gently. "We deserve each other."

His lips brushed her forehead. "I want a life with you, Lauren. Not just now, not just next season. A real future."

"I want that more than anything."

Lauren lifted her head to meet his eyes, finding in them everything she'd once been afraid to want. No more words were needed as his hand cupped her face, drawing her into a kiss that spoke of promises and tomorrows. They'd found something rare in each other—not just passion or companionship, but a truth that transcended their differences. As sleep began to claim them both, wrapped in each other's warmth, Lauren knew that some journeys were worth every step, every challenge, every moment of doubt. And this one had only just begun.

Epilogue

Lauren

Three months later

Lauren adjusted her sunglasses as the summer sun glinted off Lake Quonnipaug. The warmth against her skin felt like pure contentment, especially when Jax's hand found her shoulder as he passed out cold beers to their guests. His movements were easy now—the stiffness from his playoff injuries long gone, along with the fear that had nearly torn them apart.

"To the Charm City Chill," Kane raised his bottle in a toast, "Eastern Conference Champions and Calder Cup finalists who pushed it to game seven when nobody gave us a chance."

A cheer went up from the gathered players and their partners. Though they'd fallen short in game seven of the cup finals, pushing the series to the very end after being down 2-1 had become the stuff of hockey legend.

"And to Thompson," Marcus added with uncharacteristic emotion, "whose defensive play in games six and seven ranked as the most effective in the AHL's tracking history. Guy played like he had a forcefield around the net."

Lauren caught the small, satisfied smile that crossed Jax's face as he ducked his head at the praise. His return for the final two games of the championship series—fully healed and playing the most disciplined hockey of his career—had made Lauren proud in a way she'd never expected to feel about the sport.

"Speech!" Dmitri called out, raising his bottle higher.

Jax squeezed Lauren's shoulder and stood, his thumb absently brushing over the ring on her left hand—a simple solitaire that he'd presented to her the night after the finals, down on one knee in their new backyard with Penalty and Tripod as witnesses.

---