Page 59 of The Sin Bin

"The kind of story that might make the league office see you in a different light," Jax muttered, echoing what he suspected were Vicky's exact words to her.

"Precisely," Stephanie smiled, not bothering to deny it. "Your contract is up for renewal next season, isn't it?"

And there it was—the real leverage. With his traditional enforcer role becoming increasingly obsolete in the evolving game, Jax's future was far from secure. A ten-game suspension would hurt his value; being known as a community leader would help it.

"I'll text her," he conceded, already pulling out his phone. "But if Wilson pulls any dirty shit tonight, no amount of shelter dogs is gonna keep me from doing my job. We clear?"

Stephanie's smile remained fixed, but something calculating flashed in her eyes. "Crystal. Just remember your job includes staying on the ice, not in the box. Or worse, suspended."

"Yeah, yeah," Jax muttered, already typing a message to Lauren. "I'll let you know in twenty if she's in."

Back in the locker room, showered and changed, Jax stared at his phone, weighing the best way to present the opportunity to Lauren. They hadn't discussed going public with whatever was developing between them, and an on-camera interview would certainly qualify as public.

PR wants to announce the service dog program tonight, he texted her.They're hoping you might be available for a short interview during second intermission. No pressure either way.

Her response took several minutes, during which Jax absently reorganized his gear bag, meticulously placing each item in its designated spot.

Official shelter business or unofficial "us" business?came her reply, cutting straight to the heart of the matter with characteristic directness.

Officially about the shelter program, he typed back.But appearing together on camera will probably spark speculation.

Another pause, longer this time, before:I'm comfortable with that if you are. The program deserves the publicity, and the gossips are going to talk one way or another.

It made him smile. But about an hour later, another message from Lauren appeared:Emergency situation. Just got called to county shelter for a major hoarding case. 75+ animals in terrible condition. Three need immediate surgery.

Jax's disappointment was immediately replaced with concern and understanding.Will you still make the game?he asked.

I'll try my best, she replied quickly.Might miss first period. These surgeries could take hours.

Do what you need to do, he typed back.Those animals need you more than I do right now.

What about the interview for the service dog program?she asked after a moment.

We'll work it out. Don't worry about that. Just focus on those animals. They're the priority.

As he drove home for his pre-game nap, Jax's mind kept circling between three inescapable realities: the league's threat of a ten-game suspension, the importance of tonight's game for playoff positioning, and the growing certainty that whatever was developing between him and Lauren was rapidly becoming the most significant relationship of his adult life.

With playoff positioning on the line and a rematch against Wilson looming, Jax should have been entirely focused on hockey. Instead, he thought about the look on Lauren's face that morning as she'd studied him in her bed, about her simple promise to be there regardless of the outcome, about the easy understanding in her message about the emergency.

It should have felt like a distraction. Instead, it felt like clarity.

For the first time in his professional career, Jax realized he was playing not just for himself, for his team, or for a potential contract. He was playing for a future that might include more than just hockey—a future where the man he was off the ice mattered as much as the one on it.

And that changed everything about how he needed to approach tonight's game.

Chapter Thirteen

Lauren

Lauren's hands trembled slightly as she peeled off her surgical gloves, exhaustion settling into her bones after three back-to-back emergency procedures. The animal hoarding case had been every bit as horrific as Dr. Grayson had warned—dozens of malnourished cats and dogs, many requiring immediate medical intervention.

"That's the last of the critical cases," Grayson said, appearing beside her at the sink. His scrubs were as blood-stained as hers, dark circles under his eyes betraying his own fatigue. "You're a miracle worker, Lauren. That Shepherd wouldn't have made it without you."

"He's not out of the woods yet," she cautioned, though pride flickered through her exhaustion. The dog's injuries had been severe—a festering wound that had gone untreated for weeks, leading to a systemic infection that had required complex surgery and careful management.

"Still," Grayson insisted, "I don't know another vet who could have pulled that off." He glanced at the clock. "It's nearly six. Weren't you supposed to be at the hockey game?"

Lauren followed his gaze, startled to realize how much time had passed. "Yes, I need to get going. Are you sure you don't need me for anything else?"

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